August 22, 2015Uncategorized

Benjamin Eveslage

Published Online: August 22, 2015
Full Text: HTML, PDF

Abstract: In Ghana and other countries, heightened social stigma and discrimination towards gay men and other men that have sex with men (MSM) is compounded by the criminalisation of homosexuality. These are factors that influence them to avoid in-person peer-networks and settings where HIV prevention and care services are available. Yet in Ghana, and more globally, these same populations are increasingly using online social media networking practices to connect with people and information. This is because it is perceived to be safer and more anonymous. From an HIV prevention and care perspective, this makes online social media—particularly Facebook—uniquely well suited for connecting these at-risk populations to sexual health interventions and services. Drawing on findings from an ethnographic study, I outline how CBOs and NGOs delivering sexual health services could possibly improve HIV prevention and care outreach within these subpopulations of gay men and MSM by mimicking how they use social media. Such an approach entails ambitious and undercover methods for leveraging these subpopulations’ use of social media networks in order to connect them to localised HIV prevention and care services. However, the approach of mimicking how sexual minorities use social media presents new ethical dilemmas.  I consider these ethical dilemmas. Then I outline a number of logistical considerations and specific methods sexual health CBOs and NGOs could implement using social media for HIV prevention and care, arguing they have the potential to improve outreach to underserved subpopulations of gay men and other MSM in contexts where discrimination, fear and stigma prevent them from accessing these vital resources.

Keywords: social media, Facebook, gay, MSM, sexual minorities, sexual health, HIV, NGOs, Ghana

Sexual health organisations, sexual minorities and social media

At the 2014 International AIDS Conference in Melbourne, it was made clear that those who provide sexual health services to gay men and other MSM need to rethink the intersection between sexual health organisations, sexual minorities and social media in “stepping up the pace” to address HIV. It is critical to better understand how sexual minorities’ use of social media can inform sexual health interventions targeting these populations. Gay men, other MSM and transgender women are sexual minorities targeted by sexual health organisations because they are at a disproportional risk for contracting and transmitting HIV and other STIs (UNAIDS, 2014; Wilson et al., 2013, Baral et al., 2013). These sexual minorities, as well as people involved in sex work and people who inject drugs comprise the “key populations” framework for targeted HIV/AIDS interventions by USAID (2014).

In this article, I argue nongovernmental organisations (NGOs) and community-based organisations (CBOs) who focus on sexual health could broaden their reach within and to subpopulations of gay men and other MSM by mimicking how these populations use social media. Such an approach entails more ambitious and undercover methods for leveraging these populations’ use of social media networks, like Facebook, to better connect them to localised HIV prevention and care services. In what follows I review a number of successful HIV programs to highlight successful examples of NGOs and CBOs using social media to provide HIV services to gay men, other MSM and transgender people to underscore the potential benefit of integrating similar approaches to strengthen HIV efforts into the future.  Then, drawing on an ethnographic study with sexual minorities in Ghana, I describe specific methods and logistical considerations used to successfully reach underserved populations using Facebook. Drawing on data sets across participants from urban areas in six regions in Ghana, I illustrate how many gay men and other MSM in Ghana reported having little or no knowledge of local sexual health services. Findings highlight the need to expand the reach of sexual health interventions on offer in Ghana targeting gay men and other MSM. This led me to explore the potential benefits of using Facebook to broaden and diversify the reach of HIV services to gay men and other MSM, as well as other sexual minorities disproportionately at risk to HIV. However, new ethical dilemmas arose as a result of my “when in Rome, do as Romans do” approach of mimicking how sexual minorities’ use social media. I conclude by examining these ethical dilemmas and then outline how they influenced my recommendations for approaches sexual health NGOs and CBOs can implement. I argue these methods have the potential to better reach underserved subpopulations of gay men and other MSM in Ghana and more globally to provide contextualised HIV prevention and care.

Outreach to sexual minorities through social media

The increasing ubiquity of online social media corresponds with a surge in numbers of sexual minorities engaging these platforms (Jones & Fox, 2009; Martinez et al., 2014; Oosterhoff, 2014). Furthermore, the recent and dramatic politicisation of homosexuality and high levels of stigma and discrimination in many Sub-Saharan African countries not only influence some sexual minorities to avoid public interaction, but also negatively affects the provision of HIV care and prevention services (Corey-Boulet, 2012, Currier, 2014, Epstein et al., 2004; IRIN, 2006; Walsh, Laskey, Chiayajit and Morrish, 2010). Over the past decade, Ghana has witnessed not only a proliferation of more affordable information communication technologies (ICTs) (Frempong, 2012; infoDev 2014), but also the politicisation of homosexuality and increased instances of human rights abuses directed at sexual minorities (Eveslage, 2015; Essien & Aderinto, 2009; PANA, 2011; Citi FM Online, 2010; Daily Guide, 2010; Mac-Darling Cobbinah, 2015). In this context, online social media networking becomes increasingly attractive for sexual minorities seeking sexual partners. It also provides unexplored platforms to maintain anonymity and discretion in accessing health services and information. Importantly, this also potentially opens up new avenues of exploitation (O’Mara, 2013) and violence (Wood, 2014; Avari 2014).

HIV prevention and care interventions in various regions – from North and Central America (Allman et al., 2012; Rivas et al., 2014) to Africa (Henry et al., 2012; Scheibe et al., 2012) and Asia (Avery et al., 2014; Chaiyajit & Walsh, 2012; Dasgupta 2012) – have highlighted the ways sexual minorities use social media to better inform the practice of HIV prevention and care (also see Kahema et al., 2014; Beck et al., 2012; Young & Jaganath 2013). These research studies highlight the importance of understanding how and why sexual minorities use social media in order to improve outreach into the virtual locations where they connect and communicate (Hanckel et al., 2014, p. 183-185). The available ICT resources range in their ability to directly reach gay men and other MSM. For example, designing a new website for sexual health education as Muessig et al. (2014) describes may allow for more tailored messages and service delivery, but will likely be encumbered with getting their target population engaged on their platform. Instead, Rivas et al. (2014) and Chaiyajit and Walsh (2012) document projects that more directly reached sexual minorities through chat rooms and social media websites already in use by sexual minorities. Specifically, the Sexperts! project, developed by RFSL (2009) in Stockholm and deployed by Mplus+ Thailand and TLBz Sexperts!, included two CBOs in Thailand that engaged on social media to reach populations of MSM and transgender women (Walsh, 2008; 2011; Walsh,  Chaiyajit & Thepsai, 2010). In Thailand, the TLBz Sexperts! Program is “a low-cost, transgender-led, community project offering accurate online transgender-specific sexual health information, social support and legal advice” (Chaiyajit, 2014). With 10 years of experience, the Sexperts! projects serves as example of directly reaching key populations to connect them to HIV and broader STI education.

In Ghana, Green et al. (2014) detailed the experience of USAID-funded HIV prevention and care efforts for key populations under the SHARPER project. In 2012 they reached less than 50% of the estimated number of MSM in Ghana when using traditional means of reaching MSM through “peer educators” (p. 210; Aberle-Grasse et al., 2013). However, peer educators within their project “were aware of other MSM networks – particularly those that were older or discreet about their sexuality, and who were not interested in being directly contacted by a peer educator” (p. 210). To incorporate these un-reached populations SHARPER invested in new efforts to reach MSM through social media (including Facebook and dating websites), increasing their coverage to 92% of the estimated population of MSM in Ghana (ibid.).

These studies evidence that sexual health CBOs and NGOs are capitalising on expanding ICT resources and social media used by sexual minorities. However, there remain large populations out of the reach of current HIV programming for various reasons.  For one, many of the population size estimates of gay men and other MSM – which are used to measure the success of HIV reach, prevention, care and treatment services – are typically based on biased starting points such as respondent driven sampling or a “wisdom of the crowds” approach (Paz-Bailey et al., 2011; Quaye et al., 2015).  While there are methods that attempt to control for this bias (Lane, 2009, p. 73), they tend to overlook subpopulations not connected to peer-networks whatsoever. Furthermore, there remain issues of how researchers and demographers understand sexual identities and how they conceptualise the impact of these identities on sexual behaviours (as discussed in Lane, 2009, p. 71; Sandfort & Dodge, 2009, p. 55; Nel, 2009).

The current approaches harnessing social media and ICTs to reach subpopulations of gay men, other MSM and transgender women to connect them to HIV services have room for growth. The goal of my research, reported below, is to add to and augment these methods by describing a study that could also be used to connect an at-risk population in Ghana to sexual health interventions and services. In what follows, I describe an independent field study conducted in Ghana that leverages subpopulations of gay men and MSM’s use of Facebook—by mimicking how they use social media—to:

  • broaden the reach of sexual health CBOs and NGOs to currently un-reached sub populations of gay men and other MSM on Facebook in Ghana;
  • to bridge the gap from online to in-person CBO and NGO contact with gay men and other MSM (e.g. to connect them to research studies or HIV prevention, care and treatment); and
  • to successfully navigate and address ethical dilemmas that arise when using such an innovative approach in a context where social stigma and discrimination towards gay men and other men MSM is severe.

Detailing my field study experience in Ghana will provide a deeper context for how sexual minorities use social media in Ghana and how sexual health CBOs and NGOs can learn from and mimic sexual minorities’ use of social media to develop methods to reach largely hidden subpopulations of gay men and other MSM who have little to no knowledge of sexual health services available to them.

Using Facebook to reach gay men and other MSM

Background and review of the study

To provide a background to my research, my use of the phrase “when in Ghana, do as sexual minorities do” is a reflection of my own experience as a sexual minority, and within broader sexual minority populations in Ghana. Over a 10-month period between 2009 and 2010 I became acquainted with sexual minority populations in Ghana as well as a number of sexual health NGOs targeting key populations at disproportionate risk to HIV. Unquestionably, I operated from a position of privilege being a white, male foreigner while in Ghana. However, my methods of making contacts and developing friendships within these populations were similarly shaped by the apparent risks that sexual minorities experience when connecting with others and disclosing sensitive information about sexuality. I also learned about methods of networking within sexual minority populations by interacting within sexual minority communities, taking their advice, and learning from their strategies. The experience integrally shaped my understanding of how sexual minorities interacted, connected and socialised on Facebook in the context of heightened stigma and discrimination.

My field research in Ghana was conducted in 2014 for my Masters degree at the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London. The field study was designed to gather a broad range of data to address the research question: “How have the politicisation of homosexuality and the transcultural production of sexual orientation and gender identity impacted people with non-normative sexual orientations and gender identities in Ghana?” Preparation for the field study began in January 2014 including obtaining ethical clearance and designing field research methods. Beginning in March, and spanning till the end of the field study in August, I reached out to 400 gay men and other MSM on Facebook to recruit research participants (Facebook recruitment methods are described in the following section). From mid-June to mid-August I was located in Ghana to collect data from participants recruited from Facebook, as well as through respondent driven sampling (i.e. snowballing) and gatekeeper referrals that brought in some lesbian women participants.

Participants predominantly included sexual minorities, including 113 gay men and other MSM and five lesbian women.  A small number of participants recruited described themselves as heterosexual during interviews (N=9).  Additional interviews included staff of human rights and sexual health NGOs and other business, civil society and community leaders that impact sexual minorities (N=9).  While my field study sought to speak with a diversity of sexual minorities, this chapter specifically focuses on how I identified and recruited gay men and other MSM using Facebook.  Data collection with the larger group of gay men and other MSM included in-depth interviews (N=70), focus group discussions (N=36) and participant observation (N=7).  Gay men and other MSM recruited using Facebook only participated in-depth interviews, while some recruited through snowballing, gatekeepers and sexual health NGOs participated in focus groups.  Of the 113 gay men and other MSM who participated in the study, Facebook recruitment methods recruited 64 participants, while 49 other participants had been identified through traditional strategies.  In-depth interviews lasted between 30 minutes to three hours, with an average of about 90 minutes.  An interview discussion guide was used in all interviews and focus groups, which included a list of standard open-ended questions (see Appendix 1), divided between these eight sections:

1)     Social-demographic profile (age, religious/ethic background and family details);

2)     Economic profile (means of livelihood, education and future plans);

3)     Sexuality profile (description of sexuality, sexual behaviours/dating life, and any economic factors related to sexual relationships);

4)     Globalisation and perception of sexuality (Connectedness to ICT resources and friends located globally, means of learning about sexuality, perceived marginalisation/agency that comes with their sexuality);

5)     Politicisation of homosexuality (Understanding of the politicisation of homosexuality in Ghana and how this has impacted their life);

6)     Societal norms (perception for how societal norms and others’ expectations impact their gender performivity and their relationships including marriage and having children);

7)     Religious/spirituality profile (Role/impact of religion in life, marginalisation experienced and agency demonstrated through participation in religious activities/organisations or spirituality); and

8)     Sexual health knowledge (knowledge of sexual health services/NGOs, health seeking behaviour, and suggestions for organisations working with sexual minorities in Ghana).

Analysing this data took the form of transcribing interviews, where I categorised responses into themes that I then codified and tallied.  However, the data collection was not administered uniformly across participants. Some concepts and questions were added to interviews after participants identified them as important. At times, participants commanded the direction of the interview, addressing many of the questions on their own, while at other times, I led the conversation and adapted the wording and order of questions to maximise continuity and depth of conversation.  At the conclusion of interviews, I typically sought to clarify any unclear responses or address skipped questions.  Yet, in some instances not all sections or questions were answered, resulting in a number of incomplete interviews.

Methods for identifying gay men and other MSM on Facebook as potential research participants

Three methods were used to identify gay men and other MSM on Facebook as potential participants for my research project. Some of these methods are distinguished from others employed by other NGOs because they reached populations whose status as gay or MSM was not assured before contacting them, leading to both an imperfect but also widely cast sample. These methods included:

  1. Adding friends-of-friends: I reached out to my previous contacts and friends in Ghana who I knew as gay men or other MSM by requesting their “friendship” on their Facebook profile. From this initially small group of Facebook contacts, I requested friendship with their friends, and friends of their friends (and so on).
  2. Joining Facebook groups for gay men and other MSM: I searched for and joined Facebook discussion groups for gay men and other MSM.  To connect with the members of these groups, I posted a short research description in the discussion board indicating that interested members could reach out to me directly to participate and I directly contacted and requested friendship with some members.
  3. Searching for “men interested in men”: I used Facebook’s search box to find “men interested in men”. Using this last method, I searched for “men who are interested in men from [name of city]“. Entering these search criteria returned profiles on the basis of the details that Facebook users entered on their profiles, such as their gender, who they are “interested in” (which can include “men, women, or both”), and their current location and hometown.

Each method had unique strengths and weaknesses for identifying gay men and other MSM as potential participants.  For instance, those I identified using methods two and three created additional entry-points for the first method to be used again to deepen and broaden to friends-of-friends.  However, the first method’s accurate identification of gay men and other MSM was predicated on the assumption that my initial contacts (and their friends) used their Facebook profile primarily to connect with similar men.  This appeared especially true for those who used an anonymous Facebook profile (i.e. containing no personally identifiable information or photos), which allowed them to connect with other gay men and MSM and openly discuss matters related to sexuality and sexual interests while avoiding exposure.  However, some individuals reached using this method did not only use Facebook for these reasons, some had friends who were heterosexual or others were pretending to be gay or MSM to in order to exploit/blackmail or direct violence towards these groups.  Others used their real name and photo to connect with gay men and other MSM among a range of other people including friends and family.

Many Facebook groups for gay men and other MSM are openly accessible, which allowed me to view the list of group members and communicate with members directly. The openness of these groups also indicated they were particularly high risk, as they were open to any Facebook user including people interested in finding other gay men for financial gain (e.g. commercial sex work, blackmail or and theft/violence). Accurately identifying potential participants by searching for “men interested in men” on Facebook was predicated on the assumption that “interested in” meant a sexual interest. Many people I identified using this method appeared to use Facebook profiles that were not anonymous, meaning that some gay men and other MSM used the “interested in” section of their profile to discreetly communicate sexual interests to other gay men and MSM who could interpret this.  For example, some participants I identified using this method, and later interviewed, described that their Facebook friends who are neither gay nor MSM would understand “interested in men” on their profile to mean an interest in friendship with other men.  Using this method allowed me to identify potential participants located in regions where I had little success with other methods. However, this method also identified a number of “straight” or heterosexual Facebook users (as was revealed during interviews).

In each of these methods, I targeted Facebook profiles that I judged as being more likely to be owned by gay men or other MSM, such as profiles with a high number of mutual friends with me or those who used their Facebook to discuss topics about gay men or other MSM.

Interview recruitment strategies

Knowing how gay men and other MSM use social media not only guided my methods for identifying potential participants on Facebook, but also my strategies to recruit these contacts into in-person interviews. I focused the use of these recruitment strategies on contacts with interest to participate in the research.  Conducting my research in Ghana as an independent researcher required that I build my credibility as a legitimate researcher to those I reached on social media.  For instance, because Facebook is commonly used as a dating website among gay men and other MSM in Ghana, it was important that I first clarified the goals of my study to those I reached using plain language and inviting a wide range of participants to join the study.  In order to protect the privacy and non-disclosed sexuality of possible participants recruited using Facebook, my project description was authored in such a way that it avoided narrowly targeting sexual identities with admittedly quite vague wording. An example of the standard messages sent to those identified on Facebook as possible research participants are included in the graphic below. (The image was edited to blur the profile photo and the named was changed).

eveslage1

Figure 1: Screenshot of Standard Recruitment Messages on Facebook

Being an independent researcher allowed me to travel alone and remotely in order to meet with participants in a variety of locations and settings comfortable to them.  Being a gay man who also used social media to connect with other gay men and MSM, meant I assumed additional risks when meeting with participants for interviews.  I believe this context offset the typical unequal power relationship between researcher and participant, providing for a friendlier two-way discussion by showing that (in some ways) we had our queer sexuality in common.

For many potential participants identified on Facebook, my positionality facilitated the process of building trust and setting up interviews.  Most notably, I am referring to being an “out”, gay, white male researcher who is not from Ghana.  Many participants indicated they would not have met with me had I been Ghanaian, or even black.  Being seen as an outsider (and my whiteness being evidence of that) but also an insider as a sexual minority, meant many of the contacts I made on Facebook felt more comfortable meeting with me to discuss issues related to their sexuality.

Obtaining informed consent and addressing other ethical considerations
My methods and strategies of reaching gay men and other MSM on Facebook led to unique ethical dilemmas. Here, I account for how participants’ informed consent was obtained, anonymity ensured, confidentiality of personally identifying information secured and the chance for undue harm reduced.
Obtaining participants’ informed consent

To obtain participants’ informed consent, I sent those I reached on Facebook who were interested to participate in the research a “participant consent form” (see Appendix 2 & 3), which detailed the purpose of the study, procedures, ethical considerations, benefits, duration and a statement of confidentiality.  I asked each participant to review the participant consent form through Facebook (where possible) before deciding to meet for an interview.  Further, I reviewed the participant consent form fully with all individuals who met me for an interview by asking them to read it or, where that was difficult, I read it to participants.  Before moving into an interview, I addressed any remaining questions and confirmed their voluntary participation with a verbal consent (to avoid any names being written on paper for anonymity purposes).  All of those who met with me consented to participation in the research, while a few opted for informal discussion instead of a formal interview.

Ensuring anonymity and confidentiality of personally identifying information

At the point when my contacts on Facebook indicated an interest to participate, I noted their details into a password protected key file, which included their Facebook name, a link to their Facebook profile and additional contact information provided (e.g. email and phone numbers).  I commonly made note of their city or neighbourhood location to schedule interviews by geographic location.  I never asked for real names, but rather asked for a name they preferred to use. During audio-recorded interviews the participant and I used a completely new pseudonym that no one knew the participant by.  All notes and files associated with participants’ interview responses were linked to their pseudonym and a 4-digit code and only linked to their other names and identifying information in the key file.  All field study data, including the key was encrypted before backing up to Google Drive.

Interviews were held in various public and private locations, but never in designated, interview sites or rooms where former participants could find me interviewing later participants.

Reducing chance of undue harm

Even before a participant agreed to participate, those I reached on Facebook could be adversely impacted.  For instance, there remained chances that my Facebook ‘friends’ could see whom I was connected to on my Facebook and might suspect these contacts as sexual minorities. For these reasons, I hid my list of friends from others and was sure to invite a wide range of participants (and not narrowly target sexual minorities) so others could not assume that I only connected with sexual minorities on my Facebook account.  Further, I depended on those I reached and recruited to recognise and mitigate their own risk when using Facebook, such as using privacy settings, or preventing others from viewing their communication with me on their phone, laptop or public computer.

Minimising risks to participants also resulted from me acknowledging participants’ level and manner of communication and matching this, commonly using less than straightforward language that preserved discretion and plausible deniability for their participation in my research or any basis for them to receive undue harm.

Data and results

Knowledge of sexual health services

Of the 64 interviews with gay men and other MSM recruited through social media, 55 completed the interview discussion guide section on sexual health services. Data from these interviews revealed a very low level of knowledge about sexual health services. Of these 55 men, 24 (44%) had no knowledge of sexual health services for gay men or other MSM in Ghana, while 14 people (25%) merely knew of their existence, but could not name the organisation or what their activities were. A remaining 17 people (31%) were familiar with these organisations and their services (see Figure 2).

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Figure 2: Knowledge of Sexual Health NGOs/Services for Gay Men & MSM in Ghana

Another series of questions asked participants about their knowledge of, connection to, and interest in “peer educators” and their services.  40% of participants recruited through social media (N=23) had no knowledge about peer educators.  The remainder knew about peer educators (25%), had peer educators as friends (24%) or was either a peer educator himself or had been previously (4%).  Slightly more participants were aware of the kinds of services that peer educators provide (N28), while 26 participants (44%) had no knowledge about their service (See Figure 3).

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Figure 3: Knowledge of Peer Educators for Gay Men & MSM in Ghana

After confirming that participants were familiar with peer educators (or after I told them about the kinds of services they provide), 34 participants indicated that at some point they would have wanted to speak with a peer educator about issues they were facing. These participants demonstrated unmet needs for peer educators’ services because 15 people indicated both that they did not know about peer educators, but would have liked to speak with one had they known. However, 10 participants who were aware of peer educators did not want to speak to one.  An additional 8 participants similarly felt no need to speak to a peer educator even after learning about their services (see Figure 4).

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Figure 4: Demand for Peer Education Services

A number of these individuals explained that they felt no need to speak with a peer educator because they already received education on sexual health or felt more confident using the Internet or books to find reliable sexual health information.  Some of these respondents did not face many barriers to accessing commodities provided by peer educators (i.e. condoms and lubricant).  However, a few indicated that they actively disassociated themselves from sexual health services for gay men and other MSM (e.g. peer educators).  For instance, a participant called “Michael” indicated awareness that peer educators provided services to gay men and other MSM in Ghana.  “So I know these things are there,” Michael said.  “I think I have made a conscious effort not to be a part of them”.  Like Michael, there were other participants who shared his sentiments, indicating a self-distancing from sexual health organisations and services targeting sexual minorities – not due to their lacking awareness, but because they wanted to avoid compromising the confidentiality of their sexuality by affiliating with such organisations.

Limitations

Despite successfully gathering a broad range of participants both demographically and geographically (see Appendix 4-6), my methods proved unsuccessful or insufficient for including some groups of gay men and other MSM (e.g. those older than 45 years old, those located in rural areas or outside the six regions where I conducted fieldwork).  Furthermore, my positionality as a white, gay researcher likely complicated the participation of gay men/MSM who engage in blackmail against others because it would be financially non-remunerative (I offered no incentive for participation) or they could feel morally vexed by being interviewed by a queer researcher and may be afraid to discuss how they exploit other gay men/MSM for financial gain.  My use of social media also did not help me to reach those not using social media (or those not using it for same-sex sexual interests) and those who cannot speak or read English (due to my own language limitations).  For a number of these gay men and other MSM who remain unreached, they likely face added factors making them vulnerable to sexual health concerns (e.g. economic vulnerability) and are distanced from the NGOs who provide sexual health prevention and care services. These sub-populations are a new frontier for future research and service delivery methods in the field of sexual health.

Discussion and conclusion

My field study in Ghana is relevant to sexual health organisations because its methods facilitated outreach and recruitment of gay men and other MSM who are not being reached by the sexual health services targeted for them. I argue this offers a new and innovative approach that sexual health CBOs and NGOs, who are possibly struggling to reach gay men and other MSM, could leverage to provide their services. Furthermore, my participants’ knowledge of, and attitudes towards, available local HIV services can also usefully inform programmatic options to address the sexual health needs of more diverse groups of gay men and other MSM.

Improving sexual health CBOs and NGOs’ outreach to gay men and other MSM

I argue my approach of mimicking how sexual minorities use social media—specifically Facebook—is a timely approach that sexual health CBOs and NGOs could possibly implement to improve outreach to subpopulations of gay men and other MSM in Ghana and elsewhere where homosexuality is criminalised (or where gay men, other MSM and transgender person face extreme stigma and discrimination).  CBOs and NGOs could also possibly appoint a social media peer “champion” from the community tasked with mimicking how sexual minorities use social media to improve and augment their outreach programs.  Such a peer champion could connect with other gay men/MSM by accumulating contacts and by snowballing through his contacts’ Facebook “friends”, by joining and contacting members of Facebook discussion groups for gay men and other MSM, and by directly searching for “men interested in men” on Facebook.

By using these methods, along with traditional recruitment methods, my research project included the experiences and opinions of 121 sexual minorities; 113 of whom identified as gay men or other MSM.  With nearly 70% of participants recruited on social media having little to no knowledge of sexual health services for MSM, it struck me that not only were existing CBOs and NGOs still struggling to connect to sexual health services to these populations in Ghana, but also that outreach strategies, similar to those outlined in this study, could help address this issue.  Furthermore, outreach in this manner could connect individuals to sexual health services that they want but don’t know exist (27% of social media-recruited participants indicated this). While some participants did not want to be associated with these sexual health organisations and services, the larger number who did gives cause for sexual health services to continue rethinking how they provide outreach to gay men and other MSM.

Ethically integrating methods into sexual health CBOs and NGOs

While my methods for reaching gay men and other MSM and strategies to recruit participants worked well for my study, they may not be entirely suitable or appropriate for implementation by CBOs and NGOs.  Mimicking gay men’s and other MSM’s use of Facebook is a complicated task for sexual health organisations, namely in how they integrate the methods that I was able to employ as an independent researcher into their organisational structure given the many ethical and political dilemmas that may arise.

The specific strategies I chose for identifying participants on Facebook were relatively simple and could be adopted by sexual health CBOs and NGOs. If sexual health CBOs and NGOs do not need to recruit sexual minority participants for studies or have them meet with their staff in-person, these social media recruitment strategies could be implemented quite easily.  For instance, the peer educators of some sexual health CBOs and NGOs already use social media to increase their outreach to broader sexual minorities populations, as noted by the SHARPER project in Ghana (Green et al. 2014). However, more ambitious methods could seek those left un-reached by other methods by extending beyond the networks of gay men and other MSM on social media that peer educators are already in contact with.  They could diversify the entry points into these virtual networks by incorporating contacts well beyond their circle of friends, by adding friends of friends, including 3rd, 4th, and 5th degree connections. They could also join social media groups meant for sexual minorities or simply search for “men interested in men”.

Because these strategies cast a wider net, and are based on assumptions about how gay men and other MSM use social media, it means many “straight” or heterosexual people may be included in those who are contacted.  This sort of recruitment and outreach by sexual health CBOs and NGOs should be encouraged while also tailoring the language of sexual health messages for relevance to both broader audiences as well as to sexual minorities. Broadening the language of sexual health services to avoid messages targeting only gay men and other MSM would help prevent ostracising some audiences who would not want to be associated (on social media or otherwise) to organisations or people known to have this focus.  This is particularly important for social media outreach to gay men and other MSM who are using a Facebook with personally identifying information.

However, peer educators and sexual health CBOs and NGOs using these approaches may be placed at increased risk, because they will likely reach audiences that are beyond the safety and trust that is developed within in-person peer-networks. Peer educators may not be open about their sexuality beyond small groups of friends or the sexual health CBO or NGO may be discreet about their outreach efforts. Maintaining a balance between methods that seek to reach people who are more likely to be gay men or MSM, while at the same time mainstreaming the communication and messages for general audiences may help to reduce these risks. Additionally, it may help for peer educators to conduct outreach in cities, regions or even countries different than their own and where they feel comfortable with the risks. Alternatively, peer educators could also use anonymous Facebook profiles to conduct outreach if it is not important for sexual health organisations to recruit the gay men and other MSM for in-person meetings.

When sexual health CBOs and NGOs seek to recruit sexual minority populations into physical meetings for research or to deliver sexual health services, there are more pronounced ethical and logistical considerations. Many sexual health NGOs are not well suited to employ the tactics I used to successfully bridge the gap between social media outreach and recruitment for in-person interviews.  I was successful in this regard due to the manner of my fieldwork and my own positionality.  For the most part, my fieldwork was conducted in isolation from sexual health CBOs and NGOs and as an independent researcher.  I chose this manner of fieldwork to distance myself from the stigma that many participants feared when associating with groups who target gay men and other MSM.  Operating independently in the field also allowed me to be more vulnerable and accessible to potential participants, meeting them in contexts and in manners convenient to them.  This helped reduce the inhibitions of some participants to meet me. Furthermore, my positionality as a white, gay, foreigner who was not working for sexual health CBOs or NGOs was especially important for securing in-person interviews.

My experience demonstrates a case for sexual health CBOs and NGOs to consider employing independent consultants or even including foreigners into social media outreach in addition to their domestic peer educators and researchers.  Many of my research participants only met with me because I was a foreigner.  However, when dealing with sexual minority populations and marginalised populations generally, there are heightened concerns for sexual health CBOs and NGOs who may want to employ independent researchers.  The lacking ability for these CBOs or NGOs to oversee these researchers’ operations is one concern, as well as reconciling their specific policies and ethics procedures that detail how to engage with marginalised populations. This is not to mention the prohibitively high cost of hiring foreign staff by these CBOs and NGOs. Striking a balance between researchers whose positionality and experience will grant them preferential access to sexual minority communities is integrally important. My positionality and experience was helpful for my participants to feel comfortable to talk with me on social media as well as in-person during interviews.  However, it is unlikely that any single researcher will be capable of adequately accessing all sub-populations. Even with my preferential access, I was also disadvantaged in accessing other subpopulations.

Targeting gay men and other MSM for HIV prevention and care

My research sought to improve outreach of HIV prevention and care to gay men and other MSM, however it also brings into question the logic of targeting these groups in the first place.  While 44% of those I recruited through social media had no knowledge of sexual health services in Ghana for gay men and other MSM, this should not be construed as an overwhelming desire for such services among these participants.  For participants recruited through social media, 18% (N10) were aware of peer educators and the sexual health services for gay men and other MSM, but were not interested in their services. Another 15% (N8) were not aware of these services, and even after being informed about peer educators and their services, were not interested. Some of these participants indicated that they did not experience any barriers to accessing sexual health services, but others avoided sexual health services targeting gay men and other MSM specifically because they targeted gay men and other MSM.

My research found that some gay men and other MSM feared the stigma of being associated with these organisations.  Recognising this, I argue that complementary efforts should be employed by sexual health CBOs and NGOs to better reach those who actively avoid them.  This is important because these populations are still at a high risk to HIV, yet social circumstances and personal preferences place them at odds with accessing the currently available services directed to them.  These additional efforts should include stigma reduction through nurses and doctor trainings within the public health services and offering more affordable private health services that can meet the health needs of gay men and other MSM.  Human rights organisations may be well suited for this mandate, including the broader work of educating the public about sexual minorities and addressing misconceptions and stigma that exacerbate health outcomes for these populations.  While the targeting of HIV care and treatment to key populations is certainly a frontier worth furthering, especially for the sake of populations who are denied health services on the basis of sexual orientation or gender identity, other methods will be necessary for those who would avoid these organisations’ targeted services.

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Acknowledgements

The chapter is based upon the author’s Master’s dissertation submitted to the School of Oriental and African Studies in September 2014 titled, “The Transcultural Production of Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity (SOGI), Securitisation and the Politicisation of Homosexuality in Ghana”.  For the support, feedback, comments and criticism spanning the planning, fieldwork and multiple drafts of this research, he would like to thank Dr Christopher Walsh, Dr Colette Harris, Dr Rahul Rao, Kwame Edwin Otu, the participants at Oxford University’s Researching Africa Day 2014 and Birkbeck University’s Re-Writing Homophobia conference in 2014, and all participants and informants in Ghana, particularly John David Dupree, Mac Darling Cobbinah and Nana Fosua Clement.

Biographical Statement

Benjamin Eveslage is a consultant to FHI 360 on the LINKAGES project. He holds an MSc in Research for International Development from the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London. His research focuses on analysing the experience of marginalised populations within processes of transcultural change and international development practice. He has taken on a number of capacities during his 15 months in Ghana from 2008 to 2014, including fieldwork with sexual minorities, key populations and sexual health organisations. From these experiences and research endeavours he hopes to highlight the tensions and prospects for joint health and human rights approaches in international development.

Contact: ben.eveslage@gmail.com

Leanne McRae

Published Online: August 22, 2015
Full Text: HTML, PDF

Abstract: Ubiquitous computing describes the current conditions of our interactive, screen-based habitats where movement between screens has become a defining trope of everyday life. As students and teachers increasingly deploy screen-literacies within the education process where laptops, tablets and mobile phones become the mechanisms by which education is accessed and activated, new ways of thinking about and through attention, learning, and scholarship need to be deployed. The possibilities of a decelerated curriculum offers opportunities to re-encode the structures and styles of learning students engage with to enable them time to absorb, ponder and problematize the processes of their learning. By asking students to slow their interaction with texts, interfaces, digital and analogue environments teachers are able to engage with digital technologies and ubiquitous screens in meaningful and challenging ways via course content and assessment strategies that enable new technologies a critical and relevant space within their teaching and learning landscape. In this paper, the example of a staged assessment structure is used to demonstrate the ways in which multiliteracies can be activated via deceleration but in ways that permit screen-based interactions while creating a space for critical reflection on the networks of attention that flow across screens.

Keywords: Ubiquitous computing, pervasive learning, digital technology, pedagogy, teaching and learning

Introduction

In an age of ubiquitous computing, how we manage technology in the classroom is essential to effective teaching and learning.  Instructors are urged, by university hierarchies, employers, marketers and even students themselves to offer course materials and deliverables via new media technologies online and via apps on mobile devices. This delivery is aligned to the lifeworlds and desires of digital natives.  Many students are hyperlinked, hyper-connected and have hyperactive attention spans. Therefore, assignments and courses need to be delivered through networks and modalities that capture and sustain their attention through ‘sexy’ interfaces and ‘fashionable’ frameworks.

How this technology is mobilised within the classroom and via external nodes needs to be closely considered. This research is situated within a wider understanding of communication, digitisation, and education particularly in light of recent work in this area by Cinque and Brown (2015) who locate this debate as “a major issue in Australia (and elsewhere)” (p. 1). They affirm the importance of understanding these relationships.

we aim to contribute to this debate by examining the pivotal issue of how young people are actually using screen media – an issue that often seems to be overshadowed in the enthusiastic, if not hasty, conclusion that students and education will ‘never be the same again’(p. 1).

The unproblematic classroom deployment of a variety of tech-based interfaces from PowerPoint slides and click-through online tests, on to YouTube clips and Ted Talks, disperses resources with little consideration of content criticism, pedagogic outcomes, or the literacies flowing around and through these interfaces. How students use this technology to manage not just the unit content but their active and interactive engagement with the context of classroom and out-of-classroom instruction remains an important area for research.

It is easy to lament the students’ lack of attention and their reliance on digital technologies to shift their focus away from theories, ideas and concepts, on to Facebook, text messages and tweets. But the intersecting dialogue between attention capture and distraction via technologies, platforms and interfaces sits uneasily within the debate. More nuanced understandings of how technologies of pleasure, leisure, pedagogy and empowerment might circulate through teaching and learning is needed to reframe the expectations of students and teachers alike.

The purpose of this paper is to rethink the relationships governing the deployment of technology by teachers and students within the classroom. While instructional staff are the bearers of responsible delivery of service, the use of technology by students to receive that service is often constructed as irresponsible and even corrosive. This is not always the case. Teachers need to have reflexive understanding of the role that digital technologies play in relation to pedagogy, not to demonise or dismiss new technologies within their teaching, nor to celebrate and uncritically deploy them.  Instead, a nuanced understanding of when particular technologies are useful, in what capacity, and when to engage them needs to be considered.  Importantly, teachers and students also need to know when not to engage them – when to allow analogue deployment of ideas, discussion of concepts and even silence to percolate through online and offline spaces. Students need not be demonised as irresponsible technology users in relation to their education, but instead can offer advice to instructors to guide their use of online, mobile and digitised devices to reconfigure these relations positively.  This reflexive interaction can manifest in new ways to construct the curriculum to model and mobilise moments where technologies are centralised, cultivated and creative and then marginalised, silenced and separated for different pedagogic purposes and outcomes. An astute unpacking within the context of education strategies, effective learning and mobile, digitised devices that permeate through everyday lives can reveal new lessons being learned at all levels of education.

In the first section of this paper, the propagation of ubiquitous computing will be discussed to better understand the contexts in which students are functioning and deploying technology inside and outside the classroom. In the second section, the ways in which movement between multiple screens can disengage students from learning will be unpacked. How student attention is mobile and fragmented will be examined to consider the ways in which time is activated in education and might offer a rethink of the relationships between learning and digital technology. In the third and final section, the place of a decelerated curriculum that integrates, hails and tracks, but also hesitates and hampers technologies in education will be positioned as a possible mechanism by which to encourage students and staff to ponder and politicise the way in which digital technologies can be combined with the analogue to facilitate learning.

Youth and Ubiquity

Digitally literate students are increasingly populating classrooms. This generation is often referred to in the popular media (DeGraff, 2014) and by other educators (Palfrey and Gasser, 2008) as ‘digital natives’, meaning that they possess a particular multitasked literacy and a variety of attention strategies that enable them to leverage the power of  digital devices in a myriad of circumstances and simultaneously manage their analogue experiences. Accordingly, “these young people having grown up with computers and the Internet are said to have a natural aptitude and high skill levels when using new technologies” (Jones, Ramanau, Cross and Healing, 2010, p. 722). This philosophy suggests they are accelerated, multiliterate learners with high levels of adaptability and mobility between different genres of entertainment and educational frameworks. Education theorists have sought to harness new and effective ways to capture the attention of this cohort who are pulled between their screen lives and their offline interactions. The trope of ‘attention’ is framed as the battleground for new educational interests and instructions. Sue Bennett (2012) has argued that these students offer a convergence for reframing educational practices and policies.

It is argued that the existence of the digital native makes dramatic educational reforms necessary because traditional education systems do not, and can not, cater for the needs and interests of young people. As a result, outdated schools and universities and outmoded teaching simply alienate students from learning, leaving them disengaged and disenchanted by education’s failure to adapt to the new digital world. (p. 213)

However, the prevalence of the digital native may be overstated. While digitally literate students do possess unique multisensory interactions, these skills do not necessarily translate effectively into efficient learning strategies. ‘Digital natives’ still need to be taught interpretive and critical engagement skills that cannot evolve through exposure to digital devices and interfaces. Students may be “immersed in social media, consumer electronics and video games, but they are not nearly as proficient when it comes to using digital tools in the classroom” (Toliver, 2011, p. 60). Assuming that critical literacy arrives through exposure to digital devices does not effectively service the incoming (or outgoing) generation of university students and produces an instructional gap between what teachers assume these students know and what knowledges they really possess. Interpretive skills must be taught, reinforced and activated throughout learning experiences. For teachers, addressing the proliferation and integration of screens within everyday lives becomes the key struggle for effective teaching and learning. Understanding how screens reinscribe relationships with the real and the mediated reshapes knowledges and how they circulate through an educational landscape. The scale of screen interactions and the rise of ubiquitous computing offers new terrain through which to consider the connections between the self, information, knowledge and expertise.

Ubiquitous computing describes the conditions of being surrounded by screens and computer interfaces whereby “information technologies and telecommunications … [are] embedded into everyday objects, the environment and even the human body, to allow wireless and seamless identification and connectivity” (Hua, 2012, p. 40). The prevalence of these devices makes them invisible. Thomas (2006) argues that “the key technological requirement within a pervasive scenario is that technology recedes into the background, that it is unobtrusive, inconspicuous – it does not attract attention” (p. 48). We are so used to their presence that we do not even see them as screens or devices anymore. This invisibility means that we do not question their role nor identify these objects as barriers or problems to social, political or educational interactions. They are more likely hailed as effective social, professional and educational lubricants that create accelerated efficiencies in information management, interpersonal interactions, and knowledge distribution. Access to fast and cheap broadband service means we have “an opportunity to be online all the time” (Petersen, 2007, p. 84) meaning that ordinary and everyday activities and chores are punctuated by the computer, the screen or device, situating screens centrally within the ordinary and mundane. This is more than having the TV on during the day while moving in and out of the room where it is located doing household chores, for example. It means having access to a screen and different types and styles of screen-based interaction at all points of mobility. As a result, the boundaries between public and private, entertainment and education, leisure and work begin to collapse.

Spaces, Screens and Self

The proliferation of screens within our everyday lives creates a particular flavour to our engagements with others and our understandings of self. At all levels these experiences are now mediated.  Connection and communication is defined via poking, liking, friending and texting. Meaningful relationships are crafted in hyperlinked, timelined and tweeted contexts and commitment extends to liking posts, favouriting tweets, and up-voting reddits instead of actual interactions with people in linear time. Asynchronous communication creates the façade that we are interested, invested and engaged with other people’s lives, but also obsessed with our own profile and crafting the right update to create a “controlled casualness” (Pascoe, 2010, p. 124) in managing our digital identities. The curation of these intimate, public and private spaces of the self provides a nexus for critical interrogation of the mediated nature of identity and the seduction of screen cultures for the archiving and curating of relationships. The function of small screens in alienating “users from other occupants of the space in which they reside, as users wander around engrossed in their handheld devices” (Cao, Oliver, and Jackson, 2008, p. 88), for example, serves to remind us of the ways in which different spaces are regulated by digital and analogue technologies. Cao, Oliver and Jackson (2008) identify the different functions of “public spaces, social spaces and private spaces” (p. 88) which govern behaviour. Within these macro-spaces are a number of subspaces like personal-private spaces, which include “a telephone booth on the street” (p. 89) and social spaces that are semi-public like “schools, libraries and theatres” (p. 89). In each of these, the use of technology is contingent. In the age of mobile devices and ubiquitous computing, behaviour once exclusively contained within the private has moved into the public creating a blurring between these spheres. While this appears to offer a greater range of permissive behaviour, the blurring of boundaries has emerged in an age where public (and private) spaces are also increasingly regulated via “more surveillance” (Eriksson, Hansen and Lykke-Olesen, 2007, p. 33) including CCTV and cell-phone meta-data collection that seek to contain and control public and private behaviours. According to Cao, Oliver and Jackson, (2008) this can lead to conflicting expectations and attitudes towards the deployment of digital devices. The integration of private information (passwords, banking details), public activities (events, profiles), and interpersonal interactions (Facebook, geo-social networking) on mobile devices as individuals move through public or semi-public spaces means that “the very visibility of such behaviour has potentially undesirable consequences in that is it likely to negatively affect the integrity of a person’s interactions and communication with other occupants of the space” (p. 91). It also means that post-PRISM privacy has corroded and the premise that “social life is a continual shift between intermittent presences” (Wang and Stephanone, 2013, p. 439) in a free and frivolous manner can no longer be effectively sustained as people ‘check-in’, Instagram, Snap-Chat, and update.

When these devices move into the teaching space, the tensions between the social, private and public dimensions of that space situates the use of technology as a mediator between these experiences. The blurring of behaviours, attitudes and realities constructs a culture where “self-disclosure and self-exhibitionism have become prevalent, not only because of the private expressions of self that can easily be posted online but also because they promote online sociability with “networked publics”” (Wang and Stephanone, 2013, p. 444). Students use this increasingly normalised interaction with the world and the self to mediate and moderate their engagement with education and learning. They understand their sphere of importance through digitised devices and use the technology available to them to integrate learning nodes into their experience of the everyday. The professional, the public, the personal and the intimate blur as screens mediate engagements in multiple environments. Their ‘networked publics’ pervade and perpetuate. While this might appear to offer the potential for a seamless and integrated ‘pervasive learning’ which is described as “a social process that connects learners to communities of devices, people and situations so that learners can construct relevant and meaningful learning experiences, that they author themselves, in locations and at times that they find meaningful and relevant” (Thomas, 2006, p. 45), it can mask the situations and circumstances that limit rather than extend capacity for learning. Access to a portal, device or screen does not equate to access to an education. The skills required for effective learning are integrated and deployed beyond the screen. When access to digital technology is serviced as an essential for effective delivery of educational product to students-as-consumers, the constructs of education are diminished and teacher’s roles as experts is denied. Instead they become facilitators, providing unit content uploaded into the cloud where students can download, decrypt and distribute into assignments and tests. Teachers must model knowledge for students, display its contrasts, conflicts and capacities. While understanding the ways in which students are connected to digital resources and online oeuvres is important to effective instruction in an age of ubiquitous computing, understanding when and how to log-off, disconnect and slow-down is essential to information management and knowledge development. Preparing students for more than the soliloquies of surfing online and beyond data mining towards reflexive, engaged and critically consciousness citizenry requires a radical rethink of the role and function of digital technologies – not to deny their place within an effective education, but to understand the ways in which they are both useful and how they might limit, reduce or block a transformative educational experience.

Information Overload

The frame and function of ubiquitous computing is also structured through the constant and easy access to information. Typing keywords into the blank text box of Google has become normalised and for students it is a seductive solution to an uncomfortable and awkward struggle with knowledge. Googling is easy and fast. It removes difficult decision making as students click on the first listing returned – barely moving beyond the first page of results. They often do not understand how to discern between reliable and unreliable knowledge, useful and useless resources. Google masks this process and through its Page-Rank algorithm simply returns the most popular result.  For students “a word or phrase is typed into a friendly box. Even if it is spelt incorrectly, the algorithms will return information to the user.  It is not quality data, but is the informational equivalent of a Big Mac, Fries and a Coke” (Brabazon, 2011, para. 6). This information is then, most often, uncritically and unreflexively incorporated into assignments or answers. It is rarely engaged with, questioned, processed or interpreted. Students move seamlessly from one screen to another, copying and pasting their search result directly from the site into the assignment and slotting in the EndNote citation. Searches are conducted on their mobile phones, results emailed or texted to other accounts where it can be deployed on yet another screen. This dance between screens disengages students from learning while they instead copy, paste, slide and swipe. Research suggests that screen technology adds layers of complexity to students’ engagement with scholarship that might be efficient for time management but are not always productive for learning. The mobility of text and the hyperlinked environment – while particularly useful for students with disabilities – is also limited and limiting by a whole range of factors including “typeface differences, pixel count, stroke width, and font smoothing” (Polonen, Jarvenpaa and Hakkinen, 2012, p. 157) that reshape how text is read and understood in predictable screen use. While these elements are also important to off-screen reading abilities, when taken in consult with screen resolution and display technology where “certain features of the LCD screen, such as refresh rate, contrast levels and fluctuating light interfere with cognitive processing” (Mangen, Walgermo and Bronnick, 2012, p. 66), not only can there be an increase in eye-strain, but “knowledge transition from the episodic memory (indexed by Remember responses) to the semantic memory (indexed by Know responses) appears to be dependent on the nature of the presentation format (screen versus paper)” (Mangen, Walgermo and Bronnick, 2012, p. 62). Subjects tend to remember less of what they read from a screen than what they read from paper. While there is conflicting debates about the impact on comprehension, studies have demonstrated that the “hypertext structure tends to increase demands in decision making and visual processing and this additional cognitive load … impairs reading comprehension performance” (Mangen, Walgermo and Bronnick, 2012, p. 61). The act of scrolling down a web-page for example, tends to function as a distraction or shift in focus that impedes the absorption of information in a digital environment.

For students used to having access to information at their fingertips and scanning the screen instead of reading, it is difficult to get them off the search engine and into databases. This difficulty is born out in Cinque and Brown’s (2015) data that demonstrates the overwhelming bulk of students in their study using Google over databases (152 vs 17) (p. 12). For time-poor, time-stamped individuals, downloading is the default dialogue. It is not considering, caching, and criticising. It is also difficult for teachers to explain why they should not Google their way through their education because this requires reflexive understanding of the differences between information and knowledge that students may not yet grasp. Too often this distinction is conflated. This means students have little trouble Googling information online and replicating it in assignments. They struggle however, when moving into higher level instruction where more complex deployment and interpretation of that information is required. The structures and strategies of processing and understanding the information they gather is crucial to the means by which knowledge is generated. This is an uncomfortable process because students often fail to realise what they do not know. They are confronted with ideas that stretch their comprehension and world views that challenge their own. This can be an incredibly stressful process and the desire for the comfort of the easy answer, the seductive search engine and the Google text-box can call a student back to the platform without ever letting them explore what it means to be a learner in the spaces between the online and the offline. Tara Brabazon (2011) argues that this is the essence of instruction – unpacking where challenge lies and building vocabularies of knowledge so that understanding can expand.

The problem with Google is that a searcher can only enter vocabulary and terms they already understand. If a student does not know who Etienne Balibar is, then he or she cannot add his name to a search for postcolonialism. Therefore, Google will always make the searcher comfortable, finding what is already known, in a basic language (para. 10).

For screen saturated students, who are mobile, connected and communicating, all of their digital flexibility masks a structural disconnect from education. They are connected to information – swimming in a sea of data – but without the literacies to process and interpret that data, they can only ever replicate what is already known – about a discipline and about themselves.  The challenge is how to integrate the screen cultures and multiliterate capacities they embody with a critically reflexive pedagogy that can move them beyond swiping and liking. In order to achieve this outcome, it is important to teach through time.  Mobilising a decelerated curriculum can assist students in managing multiple information inputs and outputs by requiring focus and attention onto tasks. This requires a type of course syllabus that explicitly provides spaces for contemplation built into the course content and assessment outcomes where students must move between digital and analogue interfaces and in that process, slow their movement and understanding of ideas.  In this variability of speed, new possibilities emerge for thinking, understanding and experimenting with ideas.

The Seduction of Slow

A decelerated curriculum involves structuring a syllabus, lectures and assessment or any one of these to force students to slow their engagement with course concepts, readings or other interactions.  It is born out of an age of stream-lined or fast-tracked education that is designed to accelerate students through their course to the end of their degree. As employment is increasingly seen as the end-point of education, getting students through their degrees and into the workforce as quickly as possible has become the impetus of higher education structures. Decelerating the curriculum is also mobilised out of the circumstances of information saturation and ubiquitous computing where data percolates throughout our daily interactions leading to an abundance of information skills but fewer abilities developed in relation to scholarly interpretation, management, and assessment of that information. A decelerated curriculum offers the opportunity to slow down, think, and reassess ideas at specific points of the unit or course. By creating nodes of slow in specific units, deceleration can become a trope that students deploy as a skill or tool throughout their educational interactions, and that teachers can perpetuate and propagate across a course.

Jennifer L. Roberts, an art historian from Harvard University, has students in her art history course choose a single work of art to write an ‘intensive research paper’ on. As part of their research requirements, they must spend three hours observing their chosen work of art.  She affirms “the time span is explicitly designed to seem excessive” but also that “crucial to the exercise is the museum or archive setting, which removes the student from his or her everyday surroundings and distractions” (Roberts, 2013, para. 4). Through this strategy Roberts (2013) encourages the students to slow their engagement with the world around them.

I want to focus on the slow end of this tempo spectrum, on creating opportunities for students to engage in deceleration, patience, and immersive attention … Every external pressure, social and technological, is pushing students in the other direction, toward immediacy, rapidity, and spontaneity – and against this other kind of opportunity. I want to give them permission and the structures to slow down. (para. 3)

Via this deceleration, students learn to see different things in the painting and learn to re-encode the function of sight from an instant, immediate sense to a nuanced and slowly evolving experience. Students are learning not to just see, but to look and to ‘perceive’. In terms of how knowledge is developed, teaching students to not just see words on a page, but to comprehend, process, unpack and problematize them, is also an important part of the academic experience. It is not only isolated to the visual arts, but to the experiences of observing, processing and understanding a variety of knowledges.

To remove distraction, encourage focus and attention to a specific idea, problem or concept is what we require of all students. The digital world in which they are immersed is structured to delay or displace this attention – to substitute it with easy answers and quick downloads, hyperlinks to the next story, page or site. For students, the velocity of movement between screens functions as an acceleration of attention where multiple inputs are gleaned, swiped and scrolled through. Consciousness is never allowed to settle, coherence does not emerge. Instead there is movement from one hyperreal context to another.

In terms of teaching and learning outcomes, movement through curriculum at speed, sifting through course concepts and pasting together assignments, is counterproductive. Students need to learn processing techniques to unpack ideas and allow them to percolate, connect and create. bell hooks (2010) describes the importance of “work[ing] for knowledge” (p. 10).  Difficult ideas may take an entire semester to evolve – sometimes an entire year. It is in reflexive understanding of the purposes and practices of acceleration and deceleration that students can learn to harness technology and disconnect from it when it is counterproductive to learning outcomes.  Constructing a decelerated curriculum can assist this process. Considering how the course information can be structured and built through the term or semester can offer tremendous opportunities to focus students on particular tasks and ideas. Taking more time with assignments can demonstrate the ways in which pondering concepts can be fruitful and effective. Thinking is not just located in the tutorial or classroom, but spills out in the everyday.  Strategies for effective learning must involve tactics that enable students to disconnect from their hyperreal swipe and like screen-based environments to merge with the analogue and the “thoughts … [that] are the laboratory where one goes to pose questions and find answers, and the place where theory and praxis come together” (hooks, 2010, p. 7).

Languages and Literacies

A range of these tactics have punctuated educational literature as new methods for teaching and learning within accelerated and changing environments have been envisioned, tested and theorised by a variety of educational theorists. Moving students through multi, transitory and complex learning environments have been well defined and offer key points for contemporary consideration when seeking to decelerate student movement through ideas and in-class interactions.  The multiliteracies project was one such endeavour culminating at the end of the 20th century to reconfigure education for a shifting global multicultural working and interacting environment.  Marked as a way of teaching that moved education beyond “mere literacy” (The New London Group, 2000, p. 5), a concept characterised by teaching “centred on language only, and usually on a singular national form of language … conceived as a stable system based on rules such as mastering sound-letter correspondence”, (The New London Group, 2000, p. 5) and into multiliteracies that emphasized interactions that are dynamic, transitory and controversial.  The focus of the multiliteracies project was to account for diverse media and identities within the teaching and learning space.  Christopher Walsh (2007), for example, activated “screen-based textual forms” (p. 79) as a mechanism for students to “fashion critical responses to problems across all subjects in the curriculum” (p 80) and generate a reflexive sense of their relationship to education. These students nurtured through the multiliteracies project were able to think and operate strategically in their own learning. Multiliteracies was a way to facilitate complexity, multiple experiences, and different attentions within and through methods that harnessed design platforms and pedagogic provocations to offer progressive alternatives to staid teaching and learning practices that were structured for empowered, singular and nationalised identities and learning modes.  Within this view “a pedagogy of multiliteracies … focuses on modes of representation much broader than language alone” (The New London Group, 2000, p. 5) and these foci allow for complex and multimodal literacies and identities to emerge and resonate within teaching allowing multiple experiences to claim space within pedagogy. These principles can be deployed within a media- and communication-rich environment to identify, facilitate as well as critique the mechanisms of movement between multiliteracies now moving across screens, and between analogue and digital capacities.

Key to the effective deployment of multiliteracies within curriculum is the activation of Design concepts. The New London Group (2000) argue that “learning and productivity are the results of the designs (the structures) of complex systems of people environments, technology, beliefs and texts” (p. 20) that allows spaces for diversity – of ideas, people, theories and assessments – but also permits focus, structure and stability to frame theoretical investigations. This modality of designing within mulitliteracies takes three dominant forms: Available Designs, Designing, and The Redesigned. Available Designs are “the resources for Design” (p. 20) which “include the ‘grammars’ of various semiotic systems” (p.  20) that are available within texts but also activated within the curriculum and specifically ‘spoken’ via , lectures, tutorials, and assessment. These are the foundations constructed by the curriculum designer to provide the framework which the learner draws upon as a vocabulary to mobilise their learning.

Assessment and Acceleration

A decelerated curriculum aesthetic and ethic was deployed in the assessment structure of a unit I taught entitled “Media and Social Context”. Spaces were created, deliberately, within the timing of assessments and structure of in-class work to extend the time that students could spend with ideas. The module aimed at developing the literacies of students in identifying and unpacking ideologies within media texts. Originally the assessment asked the students to do definitional work around ideology, conduct textual analysis, and in the final assignment, write an essay involving ideological analysis of a text of their choice. It packed in as many skills as it could across all assessment points. The unit was aimed at international students and they struggled with working within a ‘western’ context where the knowledges and meanings taken up as normal (ideologies) within the social framework were foreign to them. The work was too fast for them to fully understand and develop the ideas that were required of them within the time frame for the submission of the assessments. Just when they were grasping one idea, as well as working to improve their essay writing and comprehension, they had to abandon it for another concept, or add another layer of complexity to their writing and processing skills that proved overwhelming.  Four years ago, I changed the assessment and instead of asking the students to complete a different set of tasks at each assessable stage, had them build their knowledge through progressive assignments designed to extend the time on each task and build that temporal interaction further as their movement through the unit evolved. I began to compose an ethic of deceleration through the assessment pathway that was not unique or special, but could open space for bigger ideas about teaching, learning, time and knowledge to form and reform throughout the semester.

The students began by selecting their topic and composing a single sentence thesis statement. They were also required to provide a rationale for their statement outlining why the topic was important and how it was situated within the context of the unit.

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Accompanying this rationale the students selected five articles from the set reading for the unit and composed an annotated bibliography assessing what the material would offer their argument. This built their knowledge slowly in the first part of the unit.

The second assessment was an extended annotated bibliography requiring the students to source an extra ten resources not located in the compulsory reading for the unit. The composition of these ten resources was prescribed.  They needed a monograph, a chapter from an edited collection, two refereed articles, a website, a blog, a relevant Facebook page or group, a podcast, YouTube clip and newspaper or magazine article. The objective was to encourage comparison between the different types of resources to understand their different usage and relevance to and within academic work, while also continuing and reaffirming the use and sourcing of reading that began in assignment one.

mcrae3mcrae4The second component to the assessment involved supplying an outline for the structure of their essay and the sections and major themes they would address. They had to unpack, in detail, what they would write about, what resources they would use and how these might link together. Through this strategy, the students had to connect their reading to their topic and expand this knowledge across a variety of resources, reaffirming their ideas. This then flowed into the final assignment which involved the students drawing together the objects and articles from assignments one two and writing their essay for submission. By this final stage, the concepts have been written and rewritten multiple times, students have filtered their ideas through the reading and refined their thesis statement. They have spent over 8 weeks with the same topic.

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Importantly, this is not a new or revolutionary type of assessment structure. Brabazon (2008) refers to this framework as “building an information scaffold” designed to move students through complexity in their research practice. But when aligned with a consciousness of speed, it can offer new modes to think and teach through that also critically connect technology, spaces and screens

In this example of an assessment structure evoking a decelerated curriculum, staged assessments were used to help students project-manage their learning. In this case, the grammars of academic language were engaged as students were asked in their assessment to ‘design’ their own thesis statement for a project they intended to spend time with. They had to pull together their understanding of academic language to compose a working thesis statement that deployed a popular media example mobilising cultural studies theories of readership, race or class, for example. The grammars of the popular must be fed into and through the grammars of academic writing to compose a thesis statement that is clear, concise and that articulates the core structure of their intended argument. The students activate Available Designs under the multiliteracies model to codify their understanding and to build new ideas into that framework.

The students engaged with the Available Designs to transform and reinterpret meaning. They moved through a process of ‘designing’ their project by reading extensively, composing an annotated bibliography of available and relevant sources, and offer a structuring format for the evolution of their argument. Via this strategy their “Designing transforms knowledge by producing new constructions and representations of reality” (The New London Group, 2000, p. 22). The students moved through a slowed and slowing research process whereby their imagined project is codified, reengaged and transformed by their reading. They must maintain a rigorous connection to the protocols of academic writing and essay structure, but through these means, the students themselves are transformed as they struggle with the complexities of the material that they are deploying. They find new ‘representations of reality’ and new directions to take their argument that bring together fresh combinations of ideas.

In their final assignment, where they write the essay they have taken an entire semester to compose, research and design, they enter into a mode where there is space for The Redesigned, characterised as a moment that “is the unique product of human agency: a transformed meaning” (The New London Group, 2000, p. 23). This ‘meaning’ is not just in the development of their understanding of unit ideas and principles, but also of the time over which this knowledge evolves. In this space the students have the potential to see themselves as transformed as well as the meanings and knowledges they have been deploying and struggling with the entire semester. The process of writing mobilises identity, knowledge, complexity and rigor to redesign time, space and consciousness revealing a new series of possibilities for the self, for knowledge, and for learning. They have grown and recodified their project using resources they are familiar and unfamiliar with, and developed conclusions that have emerged out the time taken with designing and applying efforts at staged moments throughout the semester. This process of ‘redesigning’ has transitioned the students from information managers into knowledge bearers which has meaning within the arguments that they can now make, but also in the temporal understandings they have about the way knowledge evolves.

The potential in this decelerated assignment structure dialogues with Mary Macken-Horarik’s (1998) model of literacy where the objectives involve moving students from everyday experiences into applied, theoretical and then reflexive knowledges. Student knowledge cannot and should not be assumed. It must be built, cultivated and provoked. This takes time and requires nuanced understandings of how digitised and analogue interfaces interact to make meaning and offer different design capacities and capabilities for students to harness. The danger with contemporary learning structures that over emphasize accelerated digitised interactions with information is that students never move beyond the experiential. These devices and demonstrations extend their already cultivated ‘experiential economy’ codified through inspirational memes and uplifting viral videos mobilising an emotional pornography offering feel-good functionality but does little to extend, challenge or transform. Moving students into rationalised and engaged critical and interpretive spaces cannot be rushed or run-over in the desire to accelerate them through curriculum outcomes. Time for consideration and the cultivation of consciousness can be engaged with thoughtful and decelerated curriculum structures.

A decelerated curriculum is one that offers students time and teaches them course content through strategies that reveal how knowledge is developed, managed, archived and accessed. Instead of asking the students to focus on content, weekly outcomes and questions to consider, they focus on processes that mobilise information into critically engaged networks of knowledge. It is these interfaces between information, digital devices, knowledges and classroom practices that offer space for a decelerated curriculum to emerge out of teaching interventions designed to cultivate consciousness via attention management anchored in slowly evolving skills and strategies for writing and researching. Often, this involves a focus on research protocols, but can take other forms as well. In my classroom, students can learn the unit content through a strategically mapped assessment designed to cover the entire study period. It is a straight-forward scaffolding exercise where one assignment is built through a series of stages. It is not radical or revolutionary. But at each stage, the student is not rushing towards an answer or a conclusion but slowly peeling back layers of information, reformulating ideas and allowing concepts to percolate into more complex ones. These layers radiate outwards to create an ever evolving network of knowledges that convey the intersecting and complex intersections of information sites. By learning to manage these interfaces and spending the time immersed within them, the students learn to judge and rank resources as well as allow ideas to evolve and change. They begin with one idea that through a series of conceptual challenges becomes a network of ideas that must be supported, validated and legitimised by their expertise in information management. They map a digital, hyperlinked interaction over and through analogue activations of the evolution of knowledge. As a result, the students slowly work their way through the unit and move from data mining managers into reflexive knowledge developers.

A decelerated curriculum offers space to rethink how students grow, harvest, prepare and develop their knowledge. The aim is to move them beyond the accelerated, short-term outcomes of a functional education – reinforced by the drive towards employable skills – and to reclaim a view of knowledge as connected to a functional citizenry. This is not a matter of reverting to ‘traditional’ or redundant education codes or out-of-date learning strategies, but rather, to draw on those pasts and resituate them by activating a learning structure that deprioritizes the current festishization of information. It utilises the ubiquity of computing but frames it within spaces of and for disruption – to not allow an easy download and disengaged dialogue with knowledge – but to provoke struggle with information. The purpose of a decelerated curriculum mobilized through course and unit interventions is to enable and to validate a network of ideas instead of atomized interfaces and interactions with course content. Through these interventions a an authentic decelerated curriculum can emerge where students begin to see connections across modules, units, courses and entire degrees which enables space for reflection and reflexive deployment of knowledge, information interfaces and archives. This process reframes the purpose of education to allow procedures of complexity to emerge. Through a decelerated curriculum ideas are cultivated, nurtured, and dispersed rather than downloaded, disposed of and discarded. There is pleasure in this type of learning where concepts build, fold back on each other and reveal new opportunities to think, define, analyse and assess.

Governed by strategies aimed at becoming reacquainted with knowledge, the technologies and experiences of ubiquitous computing can find an important place within education. The purpose of my assignment structure is not to remove digitised interactions from the students’ experience, but to diversify their experience with digital and analogue resources, times and materials. They can use these interactions to assess and explore the different speeds attached to different information and knowledge processes. Through these means the students not only learn unit content, but they also begin to understand how to manage information within their highly networked and connected lives and transform it into knowledge. They learn how to control and contain, but also when to disconnect and disengage. Creating the time and space to think is fundamental to an effective education. Often the speed at which we move students through the curriculum, cramming as many outcomes as we can into assessment structures, we lose the resonance of a single idea, fully developed and processed that can transform and enlighten in ways that are effective, challenging and enriching.

Biographical statement:

Dr Leanne McRae is a lecturer and course co-ordinator in Internet Studies at Curtin University in Western Australia. Her current research interests involve disability and online education, popular cultural studies, and movement cultures.

leanne.mcrae@curtin.edu.au

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Abdulvahit Çakir & Çağla Atmaca

Published Online: July 17, 2015
Full Text: HTML, PDF

Abstract: This study aims to find out student teachers’ perceptions about the use of Facebook in English language teaching and their preferences on how to integrate Facebook into English classes. This study, which is based on a mixed method research, consisted of written and oral interviews with 221 student teachers in the English Language Teaching (ELT) program at Gazi University during the fall semester of the academic year 2012-2013. Of the 221student teachers, 38 (18%) were male and 173 (82%) were female. 146 participants (69.2%) were in favour of Facebook integration into English classes while 58 participants (27.5%) were against and finally 7 participants (3.3%) were neutral. In terms of age and level of learners, adolescents were preferred as the most appropriate age group to be taught English on Facebook; intermediate level was the mostly preferred language level to be enhanced via Facebook. Furhtermore, self -study was seen as the most important type of Facebook use. These findings show us how student teachers’ educational preferences can be changed in line with the education they receive and how they should be trained according to the current educational moves and communication tools.

Keywords: Facebook, social networking sites, student teachers, English language teaching.

Introduction

The use of technology plays an important role in the lives of people from every walk of life so it is only natural that educators make use of it for a better instruction. As learning foreign languages is gaining importance day by day, the philosophy and actual practices of foreign language teaching have undergone drastic changes. Since most students are familiar with computer technologies and good at using them, e-materials especially arouse the attention of educators (Blattner & Fiori, 2009).

The possibility of utilising technology has generated interest in educational settings. A recent development in online language teaching is the shift from single classrooms to long-distance classrooms involving collaboration with two or more classrooms, even in different countries for improving intercultural competence or cultural literacy (Kern, 2006). There are various studies that focused on the implementation of technology in foreign language instruction. For instance, in a study it was found that most English teachers had positive attitudes towards technology integration into their classes but they also reported some drawbacks in the implementation process, which might result from lack of professional training resulting in insufficient use of computer technologies in their classes (Karakaya, 2010) and this shows the necessity of the inclusion of newer technologies like popular SNSs into the 21st century education and teacher education for long-term success (Hubbard, 2008).

Recently, there has been much interest in the implementation of Web 2.0 tools for educational purposes. There are studies conducted on student teachers and they came up with varying findings, both in favor of and against Facebook application in educational settings (Muñoz & Towner, 2009; English & Duncan-Howell, 2008; Boyd & Ellison, 2008; Kung & Chuo, 2002; Stern & Taylor, 2007; McVey, 2009; Çoklar, 2012). Thus, it can be said that the study of Facebook integration has become an important aspect of foreign language instruction.

Facebook integration into foreign language learning settings has been studied by many researchers. However, certain learner characteristics seem to be the overlooked areas in Facebook integration into English language classes. Therefore, this paper presents deeper analysis regarding student teachers’ perceptions about Facebook integration into English classes by considering such factors as age and level of learners, types of use as in-class, outside-the-class and self-study as well as language domains to be enhanced via Facebook. It is expected to shed light on an overlooked area of foreign language teaching since student teachers’ perceptions are taken into consideration with learner characteristics in terms of Facebook integration into Turkish EFL context.

Review of the literature

New technological tools might seem promising with advantages like feedback tools, conveying meaning, reflecting on the activities in a funny way but technology cannot become a teacher by itself (Scoter, 2004). Necessity of changes in learning contexts and its impacts on education have been stressed in different studies as well (Abbitt, 2007; Greenhow et al., 2009; Mazman & Usluel, 2010) since the arrival of the Internet and computer mediated communication (CMC) tools have made L2 learning easier by providing great amounts of input, authentic materials and interaction opportunities (Karakaya, 2010). Therefore, teachers should change their teaching styles, materials and activities in line with changing needs of students and technology because on-line learning offers a community of inquiry, social presence, cognitive presence, instructor presence and supports critical thinking with its rich resources (Anderson, 2011).

Some Web 2.0 applications like wikis and blogs have influenced learning and teaching as users have active roles like contributing to the content and controlling it (Abbitt, 2007). These applications integrate technology with teaching methodologies (Banks & Faul, 2007). Web 2.0 applications could be utilised for both social and educational purposes as e-learning environments facilitate collaborative learning (Cheung et al., 2011). Foreign language teaching has also been affected by the emergence of Web 2.0 tools like blogs, wikis, podcasts and social networking thanks to their opportunities for authentic materials, unlimited learning, synchronous or asynchronous communication styles but how to meet student needs remains an important factor for a successful application (Sturm, Kennell, McBride & Kelly, 2009).

Social networking sites (SNSs) like Facebook and Twitter are gaining popularity day by day. The reason might result from the fact that SNSs are different from traditional CMC in that content does not only cover the creator’s information but is also shaped by the changes or contributions that friends make (Tong et al., 2008). SNSs offer different activities like sharing personal information, connecting with other users, uploading, tagging and sharing videos, photos, comments and joining groups with common interests (Lockyer & Patterson, 2008). If the demands of the 21st century skills are considered, it is seen that it is compulsory for teachers to be good at using new technology in order to meet the needs of digital natives better (Cephe & Balçıkanlı, 2012).

There are research studies on Livemocha, Second life, Penzu and Flicker but Facebook is the most famous and widely used social network (Balaman, 2012). Here users can create content and choose what to focus or ignore among mass-produced content (Pempek et al., 2009). Users can reach loads of information about arts, sports and travel while feeling safe by hiding certain information from others (Zhao et al., 2008). They can also join groups and create new ones according to their interests and hobbies. As is seen, Facebook is a unifying tool since it combines the features of other Web 2.0 tools within itself, like MySpace and Friendster, the image-sharing site Flickr and the open-source learning management system Moodle. Therefore, teachers can utilise Facebook for educational purposes (McCarthy, 2012). Teachers can easily harness Facebook for educational purposes because they can connect with students for free and students can feel a sense of belonging in the closed groups (English & Duncan-Howell, 2008). When Facebook is considered as an educational tool, Muñoz & Towner (2009) points out that teachers and students can create groups for specific purposes of the courses or the teacher can share links, websites, videos and various documents to tailor the courses for students’ different learning styles and expectations. However, a separate account for educational activities is also needed to protect professionalism and not to cross the boundary of the teaching-student relationship (Muñoz & Towner, 2009).

Facebook facilities, technological capabilities and offline interaction have attracted attention of many researchers (Sturgeon & Walker, 2009) and it has been researched for different aspects like social capital, identity, privacy and academic purposes (Bosch, 2009). In addition, Facebook is found to have a significant positive relationship with usefulness, ease of use, social influence, facilitating conditions and community identity. Besides, usefulness is considered as the most important factor in the adoption of Facebook as well as the rapid increase in the number of its users (Mazman & Usuluel, 2010). Although Facebook is a popular website, it still needs more research studies to understand how to use it for what purposes (Greenhow, 2009).

As many people have a Facebook account and use it frequently, we can benefit from Facebook to teach language skills to our students (Stern & Taylor, 2007). People can have more friends on Facebook they have never seen, share pictures in their online albums, discuss their interests and hobbies, and list their friends. They can interact with one another through comments and messages. All these features make Facebook unique as an on-line environment (Zhao et al., 2008). When students are engaged in Facebook activities, they will have opportunities to construct their knowledge with the help of community of practice and collaboration, learn informally and develop cross-cultural understanding (Wenger, 1998). Moreover, students are easily connected with each other and share any type of information (Abel, 2005).

According to Kabilan et al. (2010), Facebook can be an online learning environment to facilitate English language learning in terms of improvement of language skills, confidence, motivation and attitude even out of the class. Facebook applications can join teachers and students via a course link which includes setting up video conferences, posting comments for the class, putting assignments, announcements, documents, and discussion topics (Blattner & Fiori, 2009). Dynamic structure of Facebook makes it appropriate for learning functional and grammatical aspects of the language like learning writing, vocabulary and reading incidentally (Akbulut, 2007; Shahrokni, 2009).

There are more positive aspects of Facebook in foreign language learning in that certain Facebook facilities like chat tool, discussion board, and email and messaging can provide learners with scaffolding they need for their cognitive development (Zainuddin et al., 2011) since learners could get the opportunity to benefit from the visual clues to conclude meaning or repeat and revise the previous linguistic points while they are engaged in Facebook activities. Likewise, mobile phone Facebook application could also enhance meaningful and individual learning thanks to its facilities like authentic material, real-life activities and student-centered education (Shehri, 2011) in which students can discuss about their courses, homework, revise and share information with each other. However, Facebook use can be distractive when exaggerated and result in procrastination, distraction and privacy issues (Vivian, 2011).

In sum, Facebook could be effective for educational purposes for various reasons like its popularity, ease of use, synchronous and asynchronous forms of mentoring and forming a professional online presence. In addition, students can get feedback with the help of a project and improve their academic performance (McCarthy, 2012). Finally, inclusion of blended learning technology can offer students facilities like learning at their own pace. Since Facebook is a tool that is easy to access, learners and teachers may benefit from it for communication and interaction, giving immediate feedback and increasing motivation (Erdem & Nuhoğlu Kibar, 2014).

Although positive and negative outcomes of Facebook application in foreign language teaching has been the focus of many research studies there is still a gap in the Facebook application due to missing information about the dynamics on the part of the learners, that is their characteristics like age and language level. Approaches to enhance language skills and domains on Facebook is still open to debate since there are no concrete findings that support Facebook application with clear and concrete examples. Another gap is the inclusion of student teacher opinions on Facebook application in English language teaching. Therefore, this study aims to fill the afore-mentioned gaps in the literature by analysing student teacher opinions on Facebook application in English language teaching together with learner characteristics and types of use.

Research questions

It is seen that although there have been various studies regarding Facebook, there is still a missing part of its use in foreign language learning settings in terms of student teachers’ perspectives about its application. To contribute to the understading of Facebook use in English language classes, in this study the following research questions will be answered:

1. What are the student teachers’ perceptions about  the use of Facebook in English language teaching?

1.1  What language skills (reading, writing, speaking, listening) and areas (grammar, vocabulary and pronounciation) do student teachers think of improving with the help of Facebook in English classes?

1.2  What age group(s) can be taught English through Facebook according to student teachers?

1.3  What language level(s) can be taught English through Facebook according to student teachers

1.4  How (with what types of use) do student teachers prefer to integrate Facebook into English language classes?

2. Are there any differences between male and female student teachers in terms of their preference of Facebook as a foreign language learning tool?

Research methodology

Research design

This study employs mixed methods research, combining both qualitative and quantitative methods, in order to obtain more valid and reliable research findings.

Mixed methods include both qualitative (textual data) and quantitative (numeric data) methods to benefit from their strong aspects and make the research sounder by unifying them (Dörnyei, 2007). Likewise, in this study, both qualitative (analysing and coding written and oral interviews) and quantitative (calculating frequency, percentages and chi-square, mean, standard deviation) procedures were used to avoid the limitations of purely quantitative or purely qualitative studies. This way, a more practical and reliable research methodology was employed and this allowed the researcher to select different methods to answer the research questions in a broader sense. After the written interview forms (WIF) were applied, oral interviews were conducted to gather detailed data concerning the participants’ opinions. The oral interviews were semi-structured in that there were pre-determined questions but the researcher allowed for digression or elaboration to fully understand participants’ thoughts. Their answers were instantly transcribed in order not to miss any non-verbal clues like facial expressions and gestures. Their written interview form answers were shown to them to provide stimuli and remind them their initial thoughts while answering the questions, which is also called stimulated recall.

Setting and participants

The setting of the study includes student teachers in English Language Teaching (ELT) programs in Turkey. The participants of this study were 221 student teachers in English Language Teaching Department at Gazi University. The participants were purposefully selected for three reasons. Firstly, they are the seniors who have taken the necessary courses on methodology and educational sciences and are doing practicum as teachers at schools. Therefore, in a sense, they are both teachers teaching at schools and students who are taking courses to complete their own education. Secondly, they wanted to participate voluntarily so their answers are expected to be reliable. Finally, the Gazi University ELT program is one of the largest programs in its field in Turkey. 221 students were given the Written Interview Form and 21 of them held oral interviews with the researcher in the fall semester of the 2012-2013 academic year.

Data collection instruments

In this study data were collected with the help of a written interview form (WIF) and oral interviews. The WIF consists of questions about demographic features of the participants and their perceptions about Facebook use in English classes. On the other hand, the oral interviews were semi-structured and conducted face-to-face with single-sessions. The WIF was piloted with 21 pre-service teachers enrolled in the same class to test the appropriateness of the interview items and identify any misunderstanding in the language. Expert opinion was also gathered from 3 field experts for data reliability. Based on the feedback and comments from the pilot survey, necessary revisions were made in the interview forms. Each participant was given a number in the interview form so that s/he could be addressed in the later discussions with that number. Besides, no personal information was revealed for more reliable and detailed data gathering.

Data analysis

In this study, data were collected in qualitative methods but analysed in both quantitative and qualitative methods, which provides triangulation. Content analysis was employed to analyse student teachers’ responses and get deeper information. The quantitative data analysis was carried out via the Statistical Package for Social Sciences (SPSS) to calculate frequencies (F), percentages (%), chi-square measures (χ2), mean scores ( ) and the standard deviation (SD) and to obtain cross tabulation tables for the research questions and analyses of the socio-demographic features. As for the qualitative data analysis, it consists of thematic categorisation of the data that relate to the choices of the participants concerning types of use (inside/outside the class activities and self-study tasks). While relating the emerging data with the categories, the constant comparison method of grounded theory was applied through in vivo coding.

According to the grounded theory put forward by Glaser and Strauss (1980), generating a theory consists of ongoing changing procedures in a messy way and the constant comparison method includes open, axial and selective coding (Glaser & Strauss, 1980). Categories can be formed with respondents’’ interpretations, which can be named “in vivo codes” and interpretation may be needed in this phase. Selective coding is when we reach theoretical saturation and refine the theory (Strauss & Corbin, 1998).

Findings

Student teachers’ demographic features such as their gender, age and possession of Facebook accounts were taken into consideration to examine whether these features are variables that affect the outcome of the study.

Gender of the Participants

Table 1. Gender of the participants

Gender

Frequency(F)

Percentage(%)

Male

38

18%

Female

173

82%

Total

211

100%

As is seen in Table 1, there are 211 (100%) student teachers. 38 (18%) are males and 173 (82%) are females, forming the majority of the total population of seniors in Gazi University’s ELT program. Whether gender effects on participant opinions on Facebook integration will be dealt in the following tables.

Age of the Participants

Table 2. Age of the participants

Age Group Frequency(F) Percentage(%)
18-20 6 3%
21-23 190 90%
24-26 14 6.6%
27+ 1 0.4%
Total 211 100%

Whether age effects participant opinions on Facebook integration will be dealt in detail in the following tables.

Table 3. Mean and standart deviation of age

N

Minimum

Maximum

Mean

Std. Deviation

Age 211

1

4

2.05

.335
Valid N (listwise)

211

When we examine Table 2 we see the total frequency of the age groups. It is seen that of the 211 student teachers, 6 are aged between 18-20; 190 are aged between 21-23; 14 are aged between 24-26 and 1 is aged 27+. As to the percentages, it was found out that 3% of them are aged between 18-20, 90% of them are aged between 21-23, 6.6% of them are aged between 24-26 and 0.4% one of them is aged 27 or over. In light of the data, it can be said that the validity of the age categorisation was justified since participants aged between 21-23 were found to comprise a great  majority of the total participants. Table 3 gives us the mean score and the standart deviation of  the ages of the participants, which indicates that there is little difference between their ages and most of them are aged around 22 years old.

Facebook Ownership of the Participants

Table 4. Gender-based Facebook ownership of the participants

Gender NFB(F) YFB(F) Frequency Percent
Male 4 34 38 18%
Female 33 140 173 82%
GBTF 37 174 211 100%
GBTP 17.5% 82.5% 100%

Participant Opinions about Facebook Integration into English Classes

Table 5. Gender-based participant opinions on Facebook integration into English classes

Gender Agree Disgaree Undecided Frequency
Male 26 12 0 38
Female 120 46 7 173
Frequency 146 58 7 211
Percentage 69.2% 27.5% 3.3% 100%

Agree refers to those who agree with Facebook integration into English classes while Disagree refers to those who disagree with the idea and finally Undecided refers to those who are undecided about the idea.  When we examine Table 5 in terms of gender, it is seen that of the 211 participants, 26 males favoured Facebook integration into English classes while 12 were against the idea and there were no males who were undecided. Of all the females, 120 favoured Facebook integration into English classes while 46 were against the idea and 7 were undecied. In total, 146 (69.2%) participants were positive, 58 (27.5%) were negative and finally 7 (3.3%) were neutral about Facebook integration into English classes.

Table 6. Chi-Square tests of FA and FAELT

Value

Df

Asymp. Sig. (2-sided)

Pearson Chi-Square

27.744a

2

.000

Likelihood Ratio

23.442

2

.000

Linear-by-Linear Association

26.482

1

.000

N of Valid Cases

211

a. 1 cells (16.7%) have expected count less than 5. The minimum expected count is 1.23.

When we examine Table 6, we see the chi-square tests (χ2) of FA and FAELT, that is the relationship between the participants’ having a Facebook account and their perceptions about Facebook integration into English classes. Statistical significance was set at a P value of <0.05. The results are significant as probability co-efficcient is less than 0.05 (p<0.05), that is, there is relationship between the participants’ having a Facebook account and their perceptions about Facebook integration into English classes.

Table 7. Chi-Square tests of gender-FAELT

Value

df

Asymp. Sig. (2-sided)

Pearson Chi-Square

1.824a

2

.402

Likelihood Ratio

3.056

2

.217

Linear-by-Linear Association

.103

1

.749

N of Valid Cases

211

a. 1 cells (16.7%) have expected count less than 5. The minimum expected count is 1.26.

When we examine at Table 7, we see chi-square tests of gender-FAELT relationship, that is the relationship between gender and participant opinions on Facebook integration into English classes. Statistical significance was set at a P value of <0.05. The results are not significant as probability co-efficcient is not less than 0.05 (p>0.05). This is assumed to result from unequal gender distribution in that there were 38 male participants while 173 female participants.

Discussion

The study’s research questions will answered by analysing and discussing the frequencies, percentages and participant comments. First, research questions will be restated, then the findings will be interpreted and exemplified for detailed discussion.

Research Question 1: What are the student teachers’ perceptions about  the use of Facebook in English language teaching?

Both in the WIF and oral interview analyses, it was seen that of the total participants (N=211 with 100%), high majority of the participants (N=146 with 69.2%) were in favour of integrating Facebook into English classes although there was opposition (N=58 with 27.5%) or indecision (N=7 with 3.3%). Therefore, it can be said that about 70% of seniors in Gazi University’s ELT program have favourable perceptions towards the use of Facebook as an educational tool in English language classes. Examples from the WIF and oral interviews are given below to have a clear idea about the participants’ perceptions about Facebook integration into foreign language education contexts. There are two examples of positive, negative and undecided participants so that we can get a complete idea on each position towards Facebook integration into English classes. Each participant was given a code, that is number to keep their identity confidential and they are referred with these numbers in the following.

Student Teacher Comments

Participant 1, in favour of Facebook integration, indicated her opinion as the following:

I think it can be used in teaching. Because when it is used effectively it can be useful. For instance last year I was working at a nursery school, my words were vegetables and I gave my students Facebook farm game as a homework for a month and they enjoyed very much. I succeeded to teach new 20 words in an enjoyable way.

Here the student teacher articulates that Facebook can be used for teaching vocabulary to learners in an enjoyable way so they  can retrieve related vocabulary in the long run when necessary. From the comment, one can even consider how Facebook can work with young learners to teach vocabulary.

Below are two photos illustrating how Facebook could be used to enhance vocabulary knowledge taken from Balaman (2012).

cakir1

cakir2

Participant 3, in favor of Facebook integration, indicated his opinion as the following:

As English develops in our modern world, needs also gain much importance in our life. The aim of students’ teaching/learning English is also determined by these needs. Let’s say that the more developed technology and updated topics we use in classroom environments, the more enthusiastic the students are to learn English, so Facebook can be great help focus.

The student teacher highlights importance of learning English and educational requirements of the era we live in are highlighted. Besides, Facebook is said to motivate learners and help them focus on the learning content.

Participant 40, against Facebook integration indicated her opinion as the following:

I don’t think it can be useful in teaching English  for some reasons. First of all, as students have the opportunity to talk with their friends, looking at their photos and sharings, they will not deal with the things related to English or any course. If they want, they know that they can find all videos on youtube and on google. Facebook is a way of having fun actually. Facebook is not a tool for teaching English. It is just wasting time. Another reason is that maybe every student doesn’t have access to the Internet.

There is concern about Facebook use due to misuse of Facebook for other purposes, which could result from students’ lack of motivation to learn on Facebook. Additionally, Facebook may not be regarded as a learning tool by some educators.

Participant 140, also against Facebook integration, indicated his opinion as in the following:

No, I don’t think so. Because there is no rule while doing something on Facebook. Not for teaching because Facebook is a social content-web and environment. People log in Facebook to look at others’ photos, gossip and sharings. For example when I come across a group like learning one French word each day, I just skip it since learning is…. Needs time. And they, my students, will just skip, too. When I hear Facebook gossip comes to my mind immediately.

Again we see the opposition to use Facebook as a learning tool due to undesired learner attitudes. Thus, we need to be freed from prejudices as teachers so that we can encourage a new technological application in our classes.

Now we will look at comments of two participants who were undecided about Facebook integration into English classes. These are participants 134 and 182 respectively.

I don’t know.  Maybe. I am indecisive.”

“I don’t have a Facebook account so I don’t know exactly how it works. However, it can be used as communication.”

These two participants are not sure about the potential of Facebook facilities. This may result from their being not exposed to its use in their own education.

Research Question 1.1: What language skills (reading, writing, speaking, listening) and areas (grammar, vocabulary and pronounciation) do student teachers think of improving with the help of Facebook in English classes?

Table 8. Gender-based language skill preference frequency and percentage

Gender Language Skills
R W S L G V P
Male

Percent

15

19%

15

16.5%

9

20.5%

13

18.8%

3

15.8%

7

16.3%

1

20%

Female

Percent

64

81%

76

83.5%

35

79.5%

56

81.2%

16

84.2%

36

83.7%

4

80%

Total

Percent

79

100%

91

100%

44

100%

69

100%

19

100%

43

100%

5

100%

If examine the gender-based language skill preferences, we see that 76 females (83.5%)  and 15 males (16.5%) mentioned writing skill. 64 females (81%) and 15 males (19%) mentioned reading skill. 56 females (81.2%) and 13 males (18.8%) mentioned listening skill. 35 females (79.5%) and 9 males (20.5%) mentioned speaking skill. 36 females (83.7%) and 7 males (16.3%) mentioned vocabulary. 16 females (84.2%) and 3 males (15.8%) mentioned grammar. 4 females (80%) and 1 male (20%) mentioned pronounciation.

The 5th interviewee reported opinion as follows:

Spelling, pronounciation, strong and weak forms of intonation and gisting. Through songs students could imitate sounds just like the singer and have a better idea about contractions. If we share cartoons and pictures we can teach new vocab. They want to learn its meaning and so look it up in the dictionary immediately.

This quote illustrates that Facebook could be great help in enhancing segmentals and suprasegmentals in the target language. If they are involved in enjoyable activities like having songs or cartoons, they can appreciate Facebook use due to the rich aural and visual stimuli. Besides, they will want to understand what is going on, try to learn new words.

The 7th interviewee reported opinion as follows:

Writing and reading. Vocab. Prononunciation- we can use and share videos about a topic and have them watch and comment on it. Later I would ask questions about it. We can also share samples of texts- emails, formal and informal letters- as a source for their writing or assignment. Not spelling and punctuation because it is a free environment, like writing messages, just skipping or omitting some vowels or consonants.

Learners can take the linguistic input on Facebook as their model. The teacher could get the opportunity to develop language skills integratedly and students will feel safe about making errors as they will act in a free environment.

The 11th interviewee reported opinion as follows:

Writing. I can send a paragraph and they will tell me the topic sentence. For listening we post a video and ask them to write what the boy or girl is saying between 10th -15th seconds. Reading- we can ask them to scan some texts and count the superlative words.

Facebook could be used to improve different language skills with various activities, from simple to more complex and long activities.

Research Question 1.2: What age group(s) can be taught English through Facebook according to student teachers?

Table 9. Age groups to be taught English via Facebook

Age Groups Frequency Percentage
Young Learners 18 8.3%
Adolescents 118 54.4%
Adults 81 37.3%
Total 217 100%

In Table 9, we see participants opinions on what age group(s) is/are suitable to be taught English via Facebook. The participants chose either one or more age group(s). The age groups were divided into three broad categories namely young learners, adolescents and adults. When we look at Table 17, we see that of the 227 points (100%) given in total, young learners item has 18 points (8.3%) while adolescents item has 118 points (54.4%)  and finally adults item has 81 points (37.3%).

The 5th interviewee indicates opinion in the oral interview as follows:

Young learners aren’t aware of what or how they are learning sth or not have an aim. On the other hand, adolescents and adults have awareness and they say I need to learn these things, such they think.

This participant stresses the possession of aim while learning a foreign language. In this regard, young learners are criticised for not having concrete or clear learning aims, which could damage their learning in an online environment.

The 16th interviewee indicates opinion in the oral interview as follows:

Young learners are open to any kind of thing. Facebook  can be another world for them to try where they can find interactive videos and beneficial sites. In addition, it can be a way of collaborating with parents. Young people are good at using technology so why not to use Facebook. I think adolescents have adequate information on how to use Facebook. For adults, I think no way! It is easy for us to use new tech and it will be easier for our students to be accustomed to the new tech but some will disagree. We grew up with this technology but they didn’t see such things. So it will be hard for them to accept it.

On the contrary, this participant is insisting on the involvement of young learners on Facebook for educational purposes since they are regarded digital natives but adolescents may need more guidance on how to act on Facebook while learning. Adults are thought to have difficulty in adapting to new technology due to their old habits.

Research Question 1.3: What language level(s) can be taught English through Facebook according to student teachers?

Table 10. Language levels to be taught English via Facebook

Language Levels Frequency Percentage
Beginner 30 12.6%
Intermediate 128 53.8%
Advanced 80 33.6%
Total 238 100%

Participants reflected their opinions on the use of Facebook in English classes by choosing the language level(s) that they thought to be suitable for teaching English via Facebook. They could choose one or more language level(s). The language levels  were divided into three broad categories as beginners, intermediate and advanced levels.

When one examines Table 10 which shows the overall frequency and percentage of language levels to be taught English via Facebook, we see that there are 238 points in total. Out of 238 total points, 30 points belong to beginners, 128 points to intermediate level and finally 80 points to advanced level, which means beginner level has 12.6% of the total point while intermediate level has 53.8% of the total point and finally advanced level has 33.6% of the total points.

Participant 138 indicates opinion in the the oral interview as follows:

Intermediate students because in order to get the highest learning level, learners must have the suitable and general idea about English. But beginners don’t have the necessary skills and need to be guided, which can be a burden for the teacher. As for advanced students, they already know about English and won’t need to learn sth on Facebook. For intermediate students, we can get their attention and contribute totheir own learning. If it is difficult for students, we can give them a push, whether they want to learn sth or not. Facebook can make individual learning possible for fast or slow learners.

The 15th interviewee indicates opinion in the oral interview as follows:

Beginners need the background information so that they will be able to understand what is going on Facebook. Intermediate level students seem more suitable for using Facebook and as they know the basic and necessary grammatical rules and lexical knowledge they can work out and understand the language there. As advanced students already know a lot about the language they need more academic language knowledge, I mean sth more challenging. It can be time-consuming for the teacher and they think it might be useless.

In both comments, Intermediate level students are regarded to benefit from Facebook in learning foreign languages more than the two groups in that they have an idea about how Englsih works, know some rules and equipped with some strategies to overcome difficulties but beginners are criticised for not being empowered with linguistic tools to survive on Facebook. Advanced level students are thought not to need Facebook to learn something new due to their rich language background.

Research Question 1.4: How (with what types of use) do student teacher prefer to integrate Facebook into English language classes?

Table 11. Types of Facebook use for ELT in order of importance*

Types of Facebook Use Points Percentage
In-class 333 38%
Outside-the-class 291 33%
Self-study 258 29%
Total 882 100%

*The least point respresents the highest importance.

In the WIF, student teachers ordered the items in Table 11, namely types of Facebook use as in-class, outside-the-class and self-study. The participants gave 1, 2 or 3 points, 1 being the most important and 3 the least important. Therefore, items with lower scores are considered more important than the ones with higher scores. Although some of the participants (27.5%) did not favour the use of Facebook in English classes, they expressed their views on what skills to be taught, order of importance, what age group(s) and language level(s) to be taught English via Facebook. Naturally these views were not taken into consideration in the further analyses.

When one examines Table 11, it is seen that participants gave 882 points for the order of importance in total. Of the 882 points, 333 belong to the in-class item, 291 to the ouside class item and finally 258 to the self-study item. Table 8 above shows that 38% of the points belong to the in-class item while 33% of the points belong to the outside-the-class item and finally 29% of the points belong to the self-study item. The in-class type of use appears to be the least important type of use to be applied via Facebook. The outside-the-class technique is seen as a mildly important type of use and finally the self-study type of use seems to be the most important.

Examples of In-Class Use in the WIF

The numbers represent the WIF order of the participants.

119- Even following comic pictures in a specific page with our prospective teachers and then next day talking and discussing about them are useful.

133- Yes, we can use Facebook for teaching English. There are some accounts for teaching English, if we use them, we can learn some words and review them. We can read stories via Facebook.

158- I think listening can be taught. Some warming-up activities can be done or teacher can share a video about the topic that they will learn it the next day for warm-up section.

The three participants give examples about how to use Facebook in the classrooms during English courses. They also touch upon how to teach language skills integratedly. They offer following funny pictures and discussing them, useing accounts specifically designed for language learning and watching videos. When students become a member of a group, they can learn from other members’ experiences and they can develop their skills thanks to the rich aural and visual input found in Facebook facilities.

Examples of Outside-the-Class Use in the WIF

The numbers represent the WIF order of the participants.

84- Writing can be primarily taught through Facebook. We carried out a project in which Facebook was used two years ago. It was useful because with our friends, we commented on videos, updated our status and also we had fun while learning.

100- Yes, we can use it.We can share our experiences. We can ask others about problems we encounter in English learning. We get more answers, maybe different answers which help us to grasp the meaning etc. We can have a page where we do activities.

175-Yes, it can be used actually. We used Facebook as an interactive tool in acquisiton class. By means of face, you can communicate easily with your students, announce new knowledge, give feedback efficiently.

The participants belive that learning can continue even out of the class and they offer learning acitivies like project work, forming pages for learning and making a closed group where only certain learners can keep in touch and catch up with learning content. In this way, learners can be both informed about their English classes and carry out educational activities without time and place limitations.

Examples of Self-Study Tasks in the WIF

194- Yes, somebody can see a word s/he hasn’t heard or seen before on Facebook so it can be useful. Also, they can speak English with friends so they can improve their English.

116- Listening and speaking can be taught via cameras and some listening vidos, clips.

19- Self-study is the most important as they can reach any information on this system and since the materials are various they will appeal to different kinds of intelligences and get their attention.

18- Self-study is the most important since it allows repetition and revision of what they have learnt or couldn’t understand clearly at school. An important opportunity for individual learning.

Self-study was the most preferred type of Facebook use among the participant student teachers. These participants stress the involvement of “self” in the learning process in that learning could be empowered when one is actively engaged in the learning activities. Especially interaction with friends or native speakers can greatly contribute to learner motivation. Learners can also get the chance to choose among a variety of materials which are appropriate to their age, level and interest. They can also revise their previous learning items and build bridges between the previous and new knowledge with the help of visuals and activities.

Research Question 2: Are there any differences between male and female student teachers in terms of their preference of Facebook as a foreign language learning tool?

Table 12. Gender- FAELT relationship

FAELT

Total

FAY

FAN

FAUN

Gender Male Count

26

12

0

38

% within Gender

68.4%

31.6%

.0%

100.0%

Female Count

120

46

7

173

% within Gender

69.4%

26.6%

4.0%

100.0%

Total Count

146

58

7

211

% within Gender

69.2%

27.5%

3.3%

100.0%

When one examines Table 12, we see the relationship between gender and student teachers’ perceptions about Facebook integration into English classes. As is seen in Table 13, of the 211 respondents, 38 of them are male while 173 of them are female, which means the number of female participants is nearly four and a half times more than male participants.

When one examines Table 12 in terms of gender, it is seen that 26 males favoured Facebook integration into English classes while 12 of them were against the idea and there were no males who were undecided. As for females, 120 females favoured Facebook integration into English classes while 46 of them were against the idea and 7 of them were undecied. Total score consists of 146 positive responses, 58 negative responses and finally 7 responses with undecided remarks.

Table 13. Chi-Square tests of gender-FAELT

Chi-Square Tests

Value

df

Asymp. Sig. (2-sided)

Pearson Chi-Square

1.824a

2

.402
Likelihood Ratio

3.056

2

.217
Linear-by-Linear Association .103

1

.749
N of Valid Cases 211
a. 1 cells (16.7%) have expected count less than 5. The minimum expected count is 1.26.

When one examines Table 13, it is seen that the number of male and female participants does not show equal distribution. The relationship between gender and participant perceptions about Facebook integration into English classes is found not to be significant as probability co-efficient is not less than 0.05 (p>0.05). The unequal distribution of gender among participants can be considered as the limitation of the study and further studies with equal gender distribution could give more detailed information on this aspect of the study.

However, this study offers concrete insights about the positive and negative outcomes together with detailed examples given on educatioal activities and suggested exercises to be employed on Facebook.

This study’s data indicates that  high majority of student teachers (N=146, 69.2%) support Facebook integration into English classes. There are participants with negative attitudes or are undecided but we can help the ones against the application (N=58, 27.5%) or undecided (N=7, 3.3%) to change their viewpoints. The frequency of indecision may seem small but the frequency of opposition should not be underestimated since it forms nearly the quarter of total frequency and in light with their responses they can be advised the ways of dealing with possible problems they might encounter in application and be given the necessary professional skills and pedagogical knowledge in their education so that they will feel competent enough to put innovative tools into practice in their future classes and better serve student needs.

Pedagogıcal Implıcatıons and Suggestıons

Teachers should pay attention to learners characteristics while integrating online learning environments into traditional classroom settings.  They should should consider learners’ age, language level and motivation level because students have different expectations, konwledge, background, interests, needs and motivation. Integration of Facebook into foreign language classes requires certain factors to be considered.  These include outcomes of application, social support or pressure, internal/external advantages or disadvantages. This study found, drawing on student teachers’ perspectives, that Facebook inclusion could potentially enhance language skills, motivate learners to particpate in educational activities, help students to gain self-study skills, access massive amount of authentic learning materials, recieve instant feedback, practice new points and revise previous knowledge. In addition, widespread use of online resources, the high popularity of Facebook and easy access to the Internet make Facebook applicatiosn easier now than ever to think about how this social netowkring environment can be used to support English laguage learning. However, there might be some hindering factors like social pressure, technical breakdowns, distractions, mismanaging time, misuse or overuse, digital gap, self-discipline problems, inaccess to computers or the Internet, time constraints, and mother tongue use.

Today Facebook or Twitter is currently being introduced into teacher education programs, but in coming years both will likely be replaced with other socila netowring platforms.  Therefore, teacher education requires continuous change and modification in conjuction with teaching trends and up-to-date communication services. However, we should balance the traditional and innovative ways of teaching in order to prevent misuse. We should not overuse technology or underestimate traditional teaching methods.

In conclusion, student teachers should be exposed to new and popular communication and interaction means like social networking sites in their own education so that they can gain knowledge, skill and expertise on how to apply such tools in their future classes. If they have concrete learning experiences, they will have a chance to see what it is like to be on Facebook as a learner and how to respond to students and how to give feedback as a teacher. Moreover, they will contribute to their professionalism and keep informed about the latest news and trends of educational moves. Therefore, teacher education programs need to be updated to comply with demands of the current era and help student teachers to gain the needed teachnology skills to effectively integrate both latest technology and appropriate teaching styles into their future classes.

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Biographical Statements

Abdulvahit Çakir is a professor at Gazi University in the Faculty of Education and works within the English Language Teaching Department. He is the head of the English Language Teaching Department and School of Foreign Languages. He started teaching his career as an English teacher and worked in different types of school and then went on to become an academic. His fields of interest are applied linguistics, teacher education, language testing, and curriculum design. He has an MA degree from Edinburg University in applied linguistics and PhD degree from Gazi University. He is the general editor of Journal of Language Teaching and Learning.

Contact: vahity@gazi.edu.tr

Website: http://websitem.gazi.edu.tr/site/vahit

Çağla Atmaca is a research assistant at Gazi University in the Faculty of Education within the English Language Teaching Department. She passed her doctorate proficiency examination and is now writing her Ph.D. dissertation. Her fields of interest are teacher education, technology use in education and intercultural communication. She worked as the assistant editor of Journal of Language Teaching and Learning and now is the English editor at Gazi University Turkish Culture and Haci Bektash Veli Research Quarterly.

Contact: caglaatmaca@gazi.edu.tr; caglaatmaca90@gmail.com

Website: http://websitem.gazi.edu.tr/site/cagla

Christopher S. Walsh


Published Online: July 15, 2015
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Toija Cinque and Adam Brown’s  article “Educating generation next: Screen media use, digital competencies and tertiary education” investigates the use of screen media and digital competencies of higher education students in light of the growing focus on new media and e-learning in Australian universities. They argue that there is a need to resist the commonplace utopian and dystopian discourses surrounding new media technological innovation.

Osvaldo Cleger analyes analyze how a representative selection of computer games, set mostly in a Latin American context or at the US-Mexico border, are capable of mounting arguments about immigration policy by making good or poor uses of what Ian Bogost has conceptualized as “procedural rhetoric” (Bogost, 2007). “Procedural Rhetoric and Undocumented Migrants: Playing the Debate over Immigration Reform” explores to what extent videogames can be effectively persuasive in the way they manage to create a computational representation of the experience of migrating, and its associated consequences, independently of the legal or illegal status of such displacements.

The article “Variations in recruitment yield, costs, speed and participant diversity across Internet platforms in a global study examining the efficacy of an HIV/AIDS and HIV testing animated and live-action video among English- or Spanish-speaking Internet or social media users” by Winnie Shao, Wentao Guan, Melissa A. Clark, Tao Liu, Claudia C. Santelices, Dharma E. Cortés and Roland C. Merchant presents a world-wide, Internet-based study on HIV/AIDS and HIV testing knowledge that compared the yields, speed and costs of recruitment and participant diversity across free postings on 13 Internet or social media platforms, paid advertising or postings on 3 platforms, and separate free postings and paid advertisements on Facebook.  Platforms were compared by study completions (yield), time to completion, The study results highlight the need for researchers to strongly consider choice of Internet or social media platforms when conducting Internet-based research.

Nazanin Ghodrati’s article “Conceptualising and measuring collaborative critical thinking on asynchronous discussion forums: Challenges and possible solutions” examines the demonstration of collaborative critical thinking (CCT) on asynchronous discussion forums (ADFs) in a graduate subject at an Australian university over two academic semesters. She discusses the ontological and methodological challenges in conducting her research and presents possible solutions to challenges encountered. At the ontological level, she discusses challenges in conceptualising and defining CCT. At the methodological level, she presents challenges in constructing a coding scheme to measure the demonstration of CCT on ADFs. In conclusion she proposes an operational definition of CCT and presents a synthetic coding scheme for measuring CCT in computer-supported collaborative learning contexts such as on ADFs.

This issue also has a review of Adrienne Shaw’s (2014) Gaming at the Edge: Sexuality and Gender at the Margins of Gamer Culture by Sabine Herrer. A special thanks to Jesse Ko for his continued work as Line Editor for the journal’s final draft copies. We would also like to thank the many anonymous reviewers who have contributed to DCE. Their commitment to providing high quality feedback have contributed significantly to the quality of the manuscripts we have published. We rely entirely on their dedicated and pro bono labour.

Sabine Harrer

Published Online: July 17, 2015
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Shaw, A. (2014). Gaming at the Edge: Sexuality and Gender at the Margins of Gamer Culture. Minneapolis/London: University of Minnesota Press, 317 pages.

Adrienne Shaw starts her book “Gaming at the Edge” with a childhood memory about everyday life in Japan. She recalls receiving a Nintendo console and a handful of games from her mother, which her friends and family enjoyed playing on for years.  “Because of all this”, she concludes, “it never really occurred to me that gaming was something only a certain type of person did. In fact, it was only in my adult life that I heard people talking about the heterosexual, white, cisgendered male gamer as the norm” (vii).

As Shaw demonstrates in this vignette, marginalised game audiences have existed for as long as the video game market has ignored them. More than that, they are perfectly capable of enjoying play irrespective of whether games symbolically annihilate them or not. For those game professionals and theorists who have finally warmed to the idea that representing minorities matters, this observation might at first come as a shock. As a matter of fact, Shaw’s study calls into question the relevance of a game market custom-tailoring products to the needs of minorities. One of the central achievements of the book is its demonstration that such needs do not exist, at least not in a way that can be adequately catered to by a marketing logic.

The book systematically reviews how the usage of representation and identification in game design and game studies discourses currently serves to reproduce misconceptions about players’ relationships to games. Based on a feminist and queer theory angle on identity as a fluid, performative, and contextual process, the author exposes the problematic way in which games often isolate identifiers like race, class, gender and sexuality to construct “authentic” versions of the world. vRace, for instance, tends to be acknowledged only if it is deemed to matter for a particular plot or game setting: In Grand Theft Auto, it is used to construct a “credible” gangster fantasy, in Resident Evil 5, to paint a “realistic” picture of Africa. While these examples have been heavily contested as particularly “bad” representations of racial minorities, Shaw deeply challenges the idea that a case for the opposite, “good” representation can be made. Arguably, what is supposed to be “good” is based on the “typical”, circulating a limited understanding of a given identity. Players’ lived experiences, abiding to such essentialisms, do not simply align with what is commonly considered typical. This is particularly well illustrated in Shaw’s conversation with Julia, a queer woman of colour who distances herself from the media practices “people like herself” are supposed to like. “I would think it’s important to most other people because of what most other people do. You know, they tend to do what people like them do. [F]or me personally, I don’t listen to R&B, I don’t listen to rap. I don’t watch BET. I don’t have the weave. I’m not saying this to offend” (154).

Much in Shaw’s critique of representation reverberates Stuart Hall’s thoughts on media, particularly his discussion of the reflective vs. constitutive paradigms of representation. While the reflective view treats representations as distorted or accurate reflections of a pre-existing reality, Hall suggests an alternative, constitutive paradigm, which assumes that representation selectively constructs reality, and always incompletely so. Hall’s concerns are echoed clearly in Shaw’s interrogation of a game studies and game design discourse, in which “reflective” thinking abounds, while the lived realities of minority audiences call for a more nuanced “constitutive” approach to representation.

Conceptually, Shaw chooses “identification” as an entry point to approach the question how, when and whether representation matters to her interviewees. This strategy seems appropriate in various ways. First, it taps conceptual territory that is important for game designers and scholars, since interactivity and identification are commonly believed to be related. Secondly, its process-orientation is well-suited to support Shaw’s exploration of identity as a fluid and contingent process rather than a stable category. Thirdly, and relatedly, it is open enough to accommodate discussions on textual and production aspects of games without losing sight of its main question, how audiences actively – or passively – relate to the games they play.

As a matter of fact, Shaw’s chapter on identification opens with an extensive note on the textual aspects of Lara Croft in the context of marketing Tomb Raider. Shaw’s point is that designers’ limited imagination of players’ ability to identify with Lara has led to her specific articulation as a hypersexualized character. Similarly, feminist interpretations of Lara as a queer character have claimed this reading to be available for queer female players only. Shifting her attention to her interviewee’s gaming practices then, Shaw challenges these projected limitations by asking what readings are actually available for audiences. As she explains the difference between text-centred and consumption-centred research: “Analysing texts tell us how the audience was constructed and about the inner workings of industry logics, but an audience study helps us make sense of where these meanings go after they are constructed”. (63). The task of “making sense”, here, is carried out with utmost sensitivity towards the fact that neither do “audiences” naturally exist in the world, nor is gaming an isolated activity. Though Shaw generally calls her book an “audience study”, she is careful to conceive of her audiences as “people rather than types of markets and players” (51). This allows her to invite interviewees of a certain demography without assuming that this “marks” them in any particular way.

Throughout a range of diverse gameplay situations and conversations, the book traces factors for identification along structural, social, and embodiment aspects of play. Significantly, whether and how players come to relate to a game character or avatar depends less on an alignment of identifiers than on the way a given character deals with the world around it.  As one of her interviewees, Tanner puts it: “You’re not going to be drawn to something that has no relevance or no commonality to you… But I don’t think that I actively seek or gravitate towards the things that are most like me” (75). This pushes back against the claim that a demographic similarity between player and game character are required for identification.

At the same time, Shaw delivers a strong argument against the view that identification is a central motivation to play a game; neither is it necessarily needed to enjoy it. One of Julia’s quotes, “he could be a bunny rabbit for all I care,” referring to Kratos, the main character in God of War, is used as a programmatic chapter heading to discuss the pleasures gained from different types of relationships players can have with media characters. Contrary to the popular conception that “identification seems to be standing for… interactivity or engagement in a broad sense” (79) Shaw claims that the act of taking control over a character has little to do with identification. “Games are absorbing, but in order to do that identification isn’t required” (86). On the other hand, Shaw observes that some interviewees draw pleasure from relating to “credible” characters, allowing them to imagine that a person “like that” could really exist. (92).

While most of the book is a straight-forward, thoroughly argued and well-illustrated plea for diverse representation beyond niche marketing, the book’s only flaw might be its inconsistent treatment of “interactivity”, however marginal to the main argument. While Shaw points to the confusing way in which this term has come to stand interchangeably for the activity of physically controlling a game and emotionally relating to it, she struggles herself to reconcile it with a media-unspecific active audiences angle. First, she reminds us to remember T.L. Taylor’s assertion that “games, unlike other media, don’t just allow activity – they require it!” (104). This implies that the difference between allowing and requiring activity is somehow significant for our structural understanding of interactivity in games. By the same token, Shaw then criticises the way in which game scholarship has often dismissed non-ludic media practices as “passive”. She asserts that “other audiences also interact with nongame media texts, by questioning them, critiquing them” (ibid.). While this is no doubt the case, what results is a conflation of different notions of “activity”, glossing over media-specificity. The argument gets even more complex when “inactivity” is introduced as a pleasurable mode of gameplay consumption, be it through particularly disengaged play, or spectatorship. From the context of active audience theory, we can infer that Shaw uses “inactivity” as a subcategory, rather than the negation, of audience activity. Yet this difference may be insufficiently illuminated for readers unfamiliar with this kind of literature.

As opposed to other game-related studies, Shaw adequately accounts for the fact that games do not reside in a vacuum, but exist side-by-side of other media forms in people’s lives.  The book frequently draws on the fact that gaming is understood in relation to these other media practices, and that it is through cross-media reference that practices of identification become meaningful to us. In other words, reiterating a tenet from decade-old identity studies, it is through difference, not through similarity, that marginalised audiences – like any other audiences – are able to draw meaningful connections between game representations and themselves.

This is not to mean that the representation of marginalised groups does not matter. On the contrary, Shaw argues that being hailed at by games is something interviewees find “nice when it happens”. This niceness can be read in terms of an overall recognition and validation “both for those who identify with those representation as well as those who do not” (67). The second part of the sentence is an important way in which the book breaks with the dominant niche marketing argument, since it rejects the idea that minority representations should be crafted with a minority audience in mind. Quite the opposite is the case. If marginalised groups, until now, have learned to “make do” with games in which they are not represented, this is certainly a skill white cisgendered male heterosexual gamers can acquire as well. Paradoxically, the fact that neither representation nor identification seem to matter that much to minority audiences allows Shaw to argue how much diversity in games matters to everyone, really.

Biographical statement

Sabine Harrer is a cultural researcher and game designer based in Vienna and Copenhagen. She graduated from English Studies and Communication Science at the University of Vienna, where she also currently writing her PhD on loss and grief in games as a DOC fellow of the Austrian Academy of Sciences.  She also works as game designer on various experimental projects with the Copenhagen Game Collective (Cunt Touch This and Pray Pray Absolution). In the past, she has worked as a lecturer in cultural studies, critical media analysis, and game studies at the University of Vienna and the IT-University Copenhagen.

Contact: sabine.harrer@univie.ac.at

Websites:


Nazanin Ghodrati

Published Online: April 15, 2015

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Abstract: The use of asynchronous discussion forums (ADFs) is thought to assist in enhancing students’ collaborative learning and critical thinking throughout higher education. However, previous research has mainly focused on individual critical thinking while the investigation of critical thinking during group work has been generally overlooked. Furthermore, few studies have investigated critical thinking processes of the individual and of the group in a single study to present a comprehensive picture of collaborative critical thinking (CCT). To address these gaps, I examined the demonstration of CCT on ADFs in a graduate subject at an Australian university over two academic semesters as students discussed topics online. In this paper, I discuss the ontological and methodological challenges in conducting the above research and present possible solutions to these challenges. At the ontological level, I discuss challenges in conceptualising and defining CCT. At the methodological level, I present challenges in constructing a coding scheme to measure the demonstration of CCT on ADFs. I then discuss ways to tackle the above challenges, propose an operational definition of CCT and present a synthetic coding scheme for measuring CCT in computer-supported collaborative learning contexts such as on ADFs.

Keywords: asynchronous discussion forum, collaborative critical thinking, computer-supported collaborative learning (CSCL), higher education, methodology, online discussion, ontology

Background and Review of Current Research

From the late 1970s and early 1980s developing critical thinking skills in students gained noticeable prominence in higher education (Moore, 2011). In higher education, knowledge construction is viewed as both a process and a product of argumentation and scientific reasoning (Derry, Seymour, Steinkuehler, Lee, & Siegel, 2004). In recent years, in many Western countries such as Britain and Australia, critical thinking has become a major graduate attribute that universities strive for students to develop throughout their tertiary studies and to master by the time they graduate (Moore, 2011).

Critical thinking definitions

As to the term itself, critical thinking and its definition have been long debated, partly due to variations in the terms used to define and describe critical thinking. For instance, critical thinking is seen as equivalent to higher-level thinking (Paul, 1992; Sternberg, 1987) or reflective thinking (Dewey, 1998; Norris & Ennis, 1989), or as a subcategory of higher-level thinking (Geertsen, 2003).

While there are numerous definitions of critical thinking, they fall under two categories; kernel and taxonomical definitions (Moore, 2011). Kernel definitions of critical thinking try to state the nature of critical thinking in a sentence or two (Moore, 2011). Some kernel definitions adhere to a positivist generalist approach to critical thinking, in which critical thinking is defined as a generic skill, and the critical thinker as independent of the context in which critical thinking skills are applied (e.g. Ennis, 1987; Siegel, 1988). For instance, Ennis (1987, p. 10) has defined critical thinking as “reasonable, reflective thinking that is focused on deciding what to believe or do”. Similarly, Siegel’s (1988, p. 127) definition of the critical thinker is “the individual who is appropriately moved by reasons”. Other kernel definitions adhere to a relativist approach to critical thinking, in which critical thinking is defined as a situated, contextual and domain-specific skill (e.g. McPeck, 1981; Paul, 1989). For instance, MacPeck (1981, p. 7) has defined critical thinking as the “appropriate use of reflective scepticism within the problem area under consideration”. Similarly, Paul (1989, p. 214) has described critical thinking as “disciplined, self-directed thinking which exemplifies the perfection of thinking appropriate to a particular domain of thinking”. Nonetheless, Kernel definitions of critical thinking often overlap, as these definitions address the key aspect of critical thinking which is making judgement of some sort (Davidson, 1998; Moore, 2011).

On the other hand, taxonomical definitions of critical thinking outline a range of skills and sub-skills which constitute the activity of critical thinking (Moore, 2011). Some taxonomical definitions are framed in terms of hierarchical levels, also called phases such as Bloom’s taxonomy of cognitive domain (Bloom, Engelhart, Furst, Hill, & Krathwohl, 1956). In these definitions, different critical thinking skills are considered as being at the higher or lower levels on a linear scale based on the degree of abstraction required in each level. The critical thinking skills at the lower levels are less cognitively complex, while the critical thinking skills at the higher levels demand deeper and more complex critical engagement. Unlike kernel definitions, taxonomical definitions are formed not only to clarify the concept of critical thinking, but also to create a framework for teaching and assessing critical thinking. For instance, Bloom’s taxonomy of cognitive domain has been widely used to describe and evaluate critical thinking in educational settings such as in higher education.

Computer-supported collaborative learning (CSCL)

With higher education increasingly delivered in blended learning modes that are both offline and online (Amhag & Jakobsson, 2009; Lee, 2009), a line of research has emerged that investigates whether demonstrations of critical thinking are present in computer-supported and online learning contexts (e.g. McLoughlin & Mynard, 2009; Richardson & Ice, 2010; Schellens, Van Keer, De Wever, & Valcke, 2009). Such an investigation is called a search for “transversal relationships” (Kern, 2006, p. 202), which is an investigation of the transferability of a learning skill from one communicative modality and context to another.

Furthermore, parallel to the shifts in education towards social theories of learning, technology-enhanced learning research has also shifted its focus to collaborative learning, and to how online learning tools correspond with the broader ecological context that influences learning (Warschauer, 1998). Computer-Supported Collaborative Learning (CSCL) research was born out of this shift in focus on human cognition and learning. Embedded in the macro level of society, the meso level of educational institutions, and the micro level of classroom and task design, CSCL research investigates collaborative learning processes delivered via computers and the Internet.

One main tenet of CSCL is that learning takes place through group interaction and computer mediation (Chapelle, 2001; Stacey, 2005; Stahl, 2006). Koschmann, Hall, and Miyake (2002) have stated that “CSCL is a field of study centrally concerned with meaning and the practices of meaning making in the context of joint activity, and the ways in which these practices are mediated through designed artifacts” (p. 18). One mediating artifact is “the computer software with which a learner interacts in addition to other learners who collaborate in the same room or from remote locations through networked computers” (Chapelle, 2001, p. 32). It is argued that CSCL tools not only provide a platform for group members’ active co-construction of knowledge (i.e. group-mediated cognition), but can also serve as significant mediating tools for such knowledge construction (i.e. computer-mediated cognition) (Garrison, Anderson, & Archer, 2001; Gunawardena, Lowe, & Anderson, 1997; J. Smith, 1994; Stahl, 2006).

Asynchronous discussion forums (ADFs)

Email, asynchronous discussion forums, blogs and wikis are among the CSCL tools used to complement face-to-face classroom interactions. Asynchronous discussion forums (ADFs) in particular are used frequently in higher education (Amhag & Jakobsson, 2009; Dringus & Ellis, 2010) because they are text-based and deemed suitable for serious academic discussion (Motteram, 2001). Learners’ engagement in asynchronous online discussions is a form of computer-supported group-mediated collaborative activity in which an electronic medium is used (Deloach & Greenlaw, 2005). One tenet of CSCL is that individuals visibly demonstrate what they have learnt and what they are learning in the process of collaboration because individuals display to each other their understanding of the meaning that is being constructed and negotiated in the online discussions (Stahl, Koschmann, & Suthers, 2006). Therefore, it is proposed that utterances produced during interactions such as online postings produced on ADFs can be considered valuable data for measuring learning (Gunawardena, et al., 1997; Stahl, et al., 2006).

ADFs are proposed to have the potential to take discussions to a more critical level, since through online discussions students can create a discourse community where they negotiate with one another in an extended period of time (Land, Choi, & Ge, 2007). Such negotiations are claimed to have the potential to lead to cognitive conflict, which in turn, can trigger exploratory talk (Song, 2008). Similarly, Guiller (2008) argues that “the increase in the time available to think and consult sources of information before responding in an asynchronous discussion may give rise to an increase in the use of formal, research-based evidence and the quality of critical thinking” (p. 188). Moreover, ADFs are proposed to provide a platform for expressing multiple perspectives, negotiating meaning, understanding knowledge gaps and resolving issues (Haavind, 2006; Land, Choi, & Ge, 2007). Therefore, due to the specific features of ADFs, it is contended that students can benefit from extended learner-learner interactions on ADFs in ways not feasible in face-to-face classrooms (Ling, 2007).

When incorporating CSCL tools such as ADFs into higher education curriculums, efforts have been made to promote critical thinking, although having students respond to these efforts by engaging in critical thinking has proven to be difficult (e.g. Derry, Gance, Gance, & Schlager, 2000; Derry, et al., 2004). In response to these difficulties, researchers have tried to investigate ways to more successfully engage students in critical thinking while using CSCL tools in higher education contexts. Previous research has highlighted a number of potential drawbacks of ADFs, such as feeling of isolation (Kalman, Ravid, Raban, & Rafaeli, 2006; Zhang & Kenny, 2010), information overload (Kalman, et al., 2006; Zhang & Kenny, 2010) and absence of immediate feedback (Herring, 1999). Furthermore, while online communication tools such as ADFs provide platforms for interaction, they do not guarantee that interaction takes place (Gray & Tatar, 2004), and if interaction does take place, there is no guarantee that it will be critical and constructive.

Theoretical roots

Interactions on ADFs and their potential to promote critical thinking can be explained in light of Vygotsky’s (1978) sociocultural theory. Sociocultural theory highlights the importance of collaborative knowledge construction as a result of interaction with instructors, peers and tools in cognitive development and learning.

According to sociocultural theory, learning is social, scaffolded, and tool-mediated. Individuals do not learn in isolation; cognitive development first takes place at a social level, scaffolded by peers and more knowledgeable others, and is then internalised at an individual level. Since, according to sociocultural theory, cognitive development is socially-situated and socially-constructed, it is affected by sociocultural factors such as cultures of learning and teaching, and the learning tools used.

Moreover, based on sociocultural theory, human cognition is mediated (Lantolf, 2000; Vygotsky, 1978). Mediating tools are either physical (e.g. hammer, computer) or symbolic (e.g. numbers, language). Vygotsky (1978) highlighted the significant mediating role of language in cognitive development. Linguistic activity (e.g. speaking and writing) plays an important role in human mental activities (e.g. rational thought, learning). Besides language, the group serves as a mediating tool for developing critical thinking, as the thinking of an individual is affected by the thinking of others in the group, a thinking process referred to as group-mediated cognition (J. Smith, 1994).

Different lines of research have investigated different aspects of teaching and learning in higher education through the lens of sociocultural theory. One implication of sociocultural theory for higher education has been the increase in implementing collaborative learning, as collaborative learning is linked to the development of critical thinking skills required of a higher education graduate (Powell & Kalina, 2009; Roberts, 2005; Stahl, et al., 2006).

One active line of research that is grounded in sociocultural theory is CSCL research. As discussed earlier, CSCL research underlines the role of computer- and Internet-mediated collaborative activity in fostering learning. The proposed potential of online communication tools, which create a platform for co-construction of knowledge, in promoting positive learning experiences and outcomes acts as an incentive for CSCL research to expand.

Gaps in the previous research

Expansion of CSCL research and the increase in the incorporation of online tools in higher education have resulted in the production of a vast body of research on the effectiveness of ADFs in general and their potential for fostering tertiary level students’ critical thinking in particular (e.g. Lee, 2009; McLoughlin & Mynard, 2009; Richardson & Ice, 2010). However, there are two key gaps in the literature that need to be addressed:

  1. Previous research has mainly focused on the critical thinking of the individual; the investigation of critical thinking when a group works together, that is collaborative critical thinking (CCT), has been generally overlooked. This is partly due to the conceptualisation of critical thinking as a solitary activity by cognitive and educational psychologists. CSCL, which is a pedagogical approach grounded in social theories of learning, adheres to the notion that cognitive development occurs at both the level of the group and the level of the individual. However, the main focus of CSCL research to date has been on individual critical thinking; that is on how the individual functions within the group. In these studies, the critical thinking of the group is viewed as the sum of the critical thinking of each individual within the group. This approach has been criticised as reductionist by some researchers such as Stahl, et al. (2006) who have underlined the need for analysing both the individual’s and the group’s thinking in CSCL research.
  2. Few studies have investigated the critical thinking processes of the individual and of the group in a single study to present a comprehensive picture of CCT processes on ADFs. In fact, Schrire’s (2004) research is one of the few, if not the only, research that is fully grounded in Vygotsky’s sociocultural theory that highlights “the complementary nature of individual and socially distributed cognition” (p. 484).

To address these gaps, I examined the demonstration of CCT on ADFs in a higher education learning context. The scope of this research was limited to a graduate blended subject over two 12-week semesters at an Australian university. I investigated the demonstration of CCT on ADFs through content-analysis of asynchronous online discussions as students discussed different topics on 20 weekly ADFs over the course of two semesters. Additionally, through semi-structured interviews with the student and instructor participants, I searched for potential factors that affected the demonstration of CCT on ADFs.

In order to aid in the future replication of the above study and in the hope of promoting more rigorous debate regarding the challenges of researching collaborative knowledge construction in CSCL contexts, I present in this paper the ontological and methodological challenges I encountered while conducting this study. The paper also discusses a number of solutions to these challenges which proved indispensible to conducting the above study.

Challenges in Conducting CSCL Research

CSCL research came into being in the late 1980s and early 1990s (Stahl, et al., 2006), and as such is a relatively new line of inquiry. Therefore, at the ontological level, CSCL research faces the issue of variations in theoretical perspectives on what collaborative learning is and how it should be conceptualised (Stahl, et al., 2006). Challenges in conceptualising collaborative learning result in challenges in measuring collaborative learning. Moreover, methodologies adopted in CSCL research are often data-driven and retrospective, resulting in myriads of context-specific practices and hypotheses that are often left unattested, and are thus difficult to replicate (Strijbos & Fischer, 2007). Difficulty in replication also stems from such studies focusing mainly on research outcomes, overlooking the importance of providing methodological specifics of how outcomes are obtained.

The above concerns with CSCL research need to be addressed. This requires the promotion of methodological debates as a collaborative scientific endeavour in the field. As a means to contribute to the debates, I discuss in this paper, the ontological and methodological challenges encountered in conducting the current CSCL research, and suggest a number of solutions to these challenges.

Ontological Challenge and Solution

At an ontological level, which is the level concerned with the nature of a social reality, interpretivists view the social reality as internal to the individual (Baxter & Jack, 2008). Interpretivists view the world as a sociocognitive construct in which there are multiple realities shaping a unified whole.  This is in contrast with the positivist approach that envisions social reality as external to the individual (Bloomberg & Volpe, 2012). Therefore, from an interpretivist point of view, the social world is understood by taking into account the frame of reference of individuals acting in that social world (Baxter & Jack, 2008).

Challenge

In the current study, the ontological challenge was in conceptualising and defining the social reality under examination, being CCT. The challenge stemmed from the fact that the majority of the previously proposed definitions of critical thinking have addressed critical thinking as an inherently solitary activity. In fact, the individual nature of critical thinking is considered a given in the majority of the descriptions of critical thinking. None of the definitions have conceptualised critical thinking, either explicitly or implicitly, as a collaborative activity. For instance, Geertsen (2003, p. 8) has highlighted the individual nature of reflective thinking by referring to the “aha! experience” as a result of reflective thinking that “comes during moments of solitude when one is not pressing to find an answer due to the uncertain and elusive nature of ill-structured problems”.

Moreover, as mentioned earlier, the critical thinking taxonomies have also served as frameworks for teaching and assessing critical thinking in higher education. Therefore, it is not surprising that the conceptualisation of critical thinking as an individual activity has become normalised in higher education (M. Moore, 1993).

Solution

In order to achieve the aim of this study, which was to examine CCT demonstration on ADFs, it was crucial to reconceptualise and redefine critical thinking in a way that would correspond with the kind of critical thinking that potentially occurs in a group learning context such as on ADFs. Reconceptualising and redefining critical thinking in this study required extensive review of the literature on the social aspect of cognition.

The social aspect of cognition is highlighted by a number of scholars (e.g. Vygotsky, 1978; Yukawa, 2006), who have opposed isolationist views of thinking, and who have maintained that a conceptual transformation towards a view of critical thinking as socially distributed and outwardly directed is necessary (Thayer-Bacon, 2000). For instance, Ennis (1996) wrote that thinking critically which is considered an attribute of an individual can justifiably be attributed to group cognitive engagement and decision making. Similarly, Bailin, Case, Coombs, and Daniels (1999) described responding constructively to others in group discussions as a critical thinking ability. Facione (2000, p. 72) has argued that critical thinking is not an individual activity and “at times the complexities of good CT (critical thinking) [description added] are evident when CT is carried on by groups”.

There have also been some attempts to define critical thinking that occurs in groups (i.e. CCT). Critical thinking that occurs when groups interact with each other is interchangeably called group critical thinking (Schamber & Mahoney, 2006), co-reflection (Yukawa, 2006), collaborative critical thinking (Olivares, 2005; Yukawa, 2006) or simply described without any labels. CCT is conceptualised differently in different studies. In some studies, CCT is defined as the end product of the group’s collaborative activity (product-oriented definitions), while in other research CCT is defined as the process of the group’s collaborative activity (process-oriented definitions). Table 1 lists the CCT definitions found in the literature. In the current study, these definitions became the initial framework for the conceptualisation of CCT and for the investigation of whether and how CCT is demonstrated on ADFs.

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Table 1. Definitions of CCT

As shown in Table 1, the proposed CCT definitions fall into two categories of product-oriented and process-oriented. While product-oriented definitions of CCT aid in understanding what CCT is, they overlook the process of CCT, the understanding of which has pedagogical implications for fostering CCT in higher education. Moreover, considering that the setting of the current study was higher education with its focus shifting towards both the process and the product of critical thinking (Derry, et al., 2004), I found conceptualising CCT that captured both the process and product of the phenomenon the most suitable. Therefore the process-oriented definitions of CCT were deemed most relevant to the conceptualisation of CCT in the current study.

To arrive at an operational definition of CCT that is grounded in sociocultural theory, I conceptualised CCT as a kind of collaborative reasoning activity that is mediated by language. This conceptualisation was informed by a) Ferguson’s (2009) and Mercer and Littleton’s (2007) definitions of cumulative and exploratory talk, b) Yukawa’s (2006) categories of co-reflection, and c) Jenlink and Carr’s (1996) description of interactive messages (i.e. dialog, dialectic and construction).  Accordingly, the process of CCT starts with building on each individual’s knowledge and the knowledge of the group through information exchange (i.e. cumulative talk), followed by challenging ideas through argumentation, evaluating evidence, and discussing possible solutions to the problem at hand (i.e. exploratory talk) (Ferguson, 2009; Mercer & Littleton, 2007). In contrast to the conceptualisation of critical thinking in higher education as predominantly cognitivist and individualistic, in this conceptualisation, CCT is considered a social activity.

After overcoming the initial ontological challenge of conceptualising critical thinking as it occurs in a CSCL context, I postponed defining CCT, until after I analysed its demonstration by a group of graduate level students on a series of ADFs. This is because there were not sufficient frequently-researched and tested definitions in previous CSCL research to base the current study’s data analysis on. However, it was necessary to use a content-analysis model that measured the demonstration of CCT on ADFs in accordance with the aforementioned CCT conceptualisation. This led to the second challenge, which was at the methodological level.

Methodological Challenge and Solution

In line with social theories of learning, such as Vygotsky’s (1978) sociocultural theory, CSCL research seeks evidence of development “in the discourse that occurs in the collaborative environment” (Chapelle, 2001, p. 32). Hence, reliance on qualitative content analysis is prevalent in CSCL research (e.g. Henri, 1992; Mason, 1992). Content analysis is a kind of textual analysis (Hara, Bonk, & Angeli, 2000), and is “a technique to extract desired information from a body of material…by systematically and objectively identifying specified characteristics of the material” (Smith, 2000, p. 314). In other words, content analysis is a methodology to analyse and categorise qualitative data (i.e. text or different forms of data transcribed into text).

Challenge

While content analysis is frequently used in CSCL research, it is not often well-explained. This is in contrast to the clear guidelines available for constructing survey questionnaires and interviews (Strijbos & Fischer, 2007). Furthermore, while using multiple coding schemes or a synthetic coding scheme can strengthen credibility of content analysis findings (De Wever, Schellens, Valcke, & Van Keer, 2006), only a few studies have used more than one or a synthesis of coding schemes for content-analysis of ADFs in search for indicators of critical thinking (e.g. Schellens, et al., 2009; Schrire, 2004). Most studies have used a single content-analysis coding scheme (e.g. Kol & Schcolnik, 2008; McLoughlin & Mynard, 2009; Richardson & Ice, 2010), or have not used any coding scheme (e.g. Lee, 2009; Sloffer, Dueber, & Duffy, 1999). Therefore, the methodological challenge in the current study was in constructing a coding scheme, (also referred to as content analysis model), to measure the demonstration of CCT on ADFs.

Solution

To address the aforementioned methodological challenge, I developed a synthetic coding scheme for analysing asynchronous online discussion postings. Specifically, I decided to create a synthetic framework to enable detecting the demonstration of CCT on ADFs more readily. For this purpose, I extensively reviewed the literature to evaluate a) the theoretical compatibility of the available coding schemes with the present study, b) the available coding schemes’ proposed critical thinking conceptualisation (i.e. individual critical thinking or collaborative critical thinking), and c) the available coding schemes’ inter-rater reliability index (Buraphadeja & Dawson, 2008).

The extensive review of the literature showed that there are a number of coding schemes available for measuring the demonstration of critical thinking in computer conferencing (e.g. Henri, 1992; Greenlaw & DeLoach, 2003; Perkins & Murphy, 2006). Three of the content analysis models for measuring the demonstration of critical thinking on ADFs have been used and modified the most (Buraphadeja & Dawson, 2008). These content analysis models are Indicators of Critical Thinking (ICC) by Newman, Webb and Cochrane (1995), Interaction Analysis Model (IAM) by Gunawardena, et al. (1997), and Practical Inquiry Model (PIM) by Garrison, et al. (2001).

Among these three most prevalently used coding schemes (i.e. ICC, IAM, & PIM), I selected IAM as the basis for the content analysis of the ADF postings in the current study. To elaborate, the majority of the indicators in ICC measure individual critical thinking. Therefore, ICC was discarded, since it does not code for CCT, a key concept in this study. However, the indicators in IAM and PIM predominantly measure CCT. IAM and PIM share a number of attributes:

  1. They predominantly measure the demonstration of collaborative critical thinking.
  2. In contrast with ICC which is product-oriented and categorical, IAM and PIM are process-oriented and hierarchical, which means that the higher phases of critical thinking are built on the lower ones.
  3. There is a large area of overlap among phases and indicators of IAM and PIM.

In fact, both PIM and IAM have been successfully used for measuring the demonstration of critical thinking on ADFs as they are frequently used, modified and tested by different researchers(Buraphadeja & Dawson, 2008). However, there are two key differences between PIM and IAM that resulted in the selection of the latter for use in the current study:

  1. While both PIM and IAM code for the five critical thinking phases of questioning, analysing, synthesising, evaluating, and decision making, IAM includes five distinct indicators for each critical thinking phase; in IAM, evaluation and decision making phases are presented as two separate phases, each with detailed indicators making it more feasible to distinguish the two skills and to code for them in ADF postings.
  2. Unlike PIM, which only offers broad descriptions, IAM lists more specific indicators for each critical thinking phase. Some indicators in PIM are either too broadly defined or include ambiguous words; words such as systematically, tentative, and vicarious application. What is a tentative hypothesis? What distinguishes a justified and tentative argument from a justified but not tentative argument? These ambiguities could make coding of online postings subjective while the use of less ambiguous and more specific indicators in IAM could decrease the chance of subjective coding.

Consequently, IAM was selected as the coding scheme in this study to reduce subjective coding of online discussion postings. Another reason for selecting IAM for the content analysis of ADFs in this study was IAM’s theoretical alignment with social theories of learning such as Vygotsky’s (1978) sociocultural theory, and with the aforementioned conceptualisation of CCT. As mentioned earlier, the way I conceptualised CCT was informed by the process-oriented definitions of CCT that defined different types of interactive message types.

As outlined in Table 2, IAM codes for the three interactive message types of ‘dialog’, ‘dialectic’, and ‘construction’ (Jenlink & Carr, 1996), as well as ‘cumulative talk’ and ‘exploratory talk’ (Mercer & Littleton, 2007). Another type of inquiry-based group-mediated thinking manifested in IAM is what has been called ‘challenge and explain’ (Curtis & Lawson, 2001). Deloach and Greenlaw (2005) have described the process of critical thinking in online discussions as constantly being triggered by ‘challenge and explain’ inquiries: “In electronic discussions…students are constantly challenged to improve their answers by providing relevant backing for their opinions. Simply put, there appears to be a critical thinking spillover effect” (p. 150).

More specifically, as outlined in Table 2, in IAM, at the questioning level, which is the brainstorming and problem identification level, participants engage in ‘dialog’ and ‘cumulative talk’. At the analysing level, where dissonance among participants is shared and explained, ‘challenge and explain’ is likely to occur provided participants continue clarifying and mitigating dissonance.  ‘Developing dialectic conversation’ and ‘developing exploratory talk’ also occur at this level when participants support their statements of disagreement and extended statements with analytic and factual information. The last three critical thinking levels of synthesising, evaluating, and decision making are those in which participants engage in collective construction of knowledge by integrating ideas from different sources including other members’ statements. ‘Exploratory talk’ and ‘dialectic’ are also evident here when participants test the collectively proposed solutions or statements against different contexts, and decide on the applicability of the collectively proposed solutions or statements.

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Table 2. CCT levels in the modified IAM and interactive message types

Moreover, Gunawardena, et al. (1997) constructed IAM in light of social theories of learning, as the researchers emphasised that IAM aims to evaluate the “learning process taking place among the group of participants, rather than to assess individual student performance” (p. 405). IAM measures the kind of critical thinking that occurs within the group and among group members through interaction. This is in line with sociocultural theory which views learning as a social activity.

Furthermore, Gunawardena, et al. (1997) have argued that lower and higher mental functions can be observed in CSCL activities, depending on the groups’ degree of critical engagement in the activity. While not labelled as such, IAM categorises CCT into higher and lower level categories with the lower levels consisting of questioning and analysing, and the higher levels consisting of synthesising, evaluating and decision making with cognitive complexity increasing at each level. In IAM, questioning is defined as raising questions, asking for clarifications and collaboratively identifying possible factors relevant to the problem. Analysing is defined as identifying and negotiating areas of disagreement among online members, and advancing arguments. Synthesising is defined as bringing together a range of relevant ideas presented on the ADF. Evaluating is defined as asking oneself and others whether the solution works, and whether it has utility in certain contexts. Decision making is defined as consensually arriving at new statements or solutions and applying them to a given task or a real-world context.

However, before using IAM in the current study, a number of modifications were applied to adapt this content analysis model to the main aim of this study (i.e. measuring CCT on ADFs). The main modifications are explained below:

  1. Since the aim of this study was to examine the demonstration of CCT rather than merely the interactions on the ADFs, those indicators in IAM which coded for interaction but did not code for critical thinking were modified. These indicators were modified by adding keywords from relevant indicators present in other coding schemes such as PIM. The modified indicators are as follows and the added keywords appear in italics. ‘Relevant statement of observation or opinion’ and ‘substantiated statement of agreement from one or more participants’ at the questioning level, as well as ‘identifying and stating areas of disagreement with support’ at the analysing level.
  2. To simplify referencing during the inter-rater reliability process and during the reporting of findings, each CCT level in the modified IAM was labelled, which corresponded to the descriptions offered in IAM for the different CCT levels. The labels for each CCT level from low to high were respectively questioning, analysing, synthesising, evaluating, and decision making.

Therefore, for the qualitative content analysis of online discussion postings in the current study, the modified IAM (see Table 3) was used to measure the demonstration of CCT on the ADFs.

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Table 3. Modified IAM

During the content analysis process, I came across a number of comments on the ADFs that were not codable based on the modified IAM. This was due to these comments not containing indicators of CCT, and instead containing indicators of redundancy and off-task. Comments on the ADFs which contained redundancy were those that only paraphrased other online participants’ comments without adding to the discussion. Comments on the ADFs which contained Off-task were those that were not relevant to the online discussion topic. Table 4 presents the list of indicators for redundancy and off-task, followed by sample excerpts from the ADFs for illustration purposes.

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Table 4. Indicators of redundancy and off-task on ADFs

While IAM’s conceptual and theoretical alignment with the notion of critical thinking as a collaborative activity made it a suitable tool for measuring participation and interaction, the modified IAM proved to be a suitable tool for identifying CCT indicators in text-based online discussions because all of its indicators measure demonstrations of CCT. Moreover the modified IAM had a high inter-rater reliability index. Inter-rater reliability in the first round of coding was 70.83 per cent. After negotiating discrepancies and ambiguities, the second round of coding resulted in an acceptable percentage of 83.72 inter-rater reliability.

The modified IAM can not only serve as an analytic tool for researchers and as a formative assessment tool for educators to measure the demonstration of CCT in CSCL contexts, but also as a learning tool for students to guide their CCT demonstration online. In higher education classes where CSCL tools are used for critical discussions, students can evaluate their CCT demonstration against this coding scheme and make necessary efforts to participate more collaboratively and critically. The CCT indicators in the modified IAM can provide a clearer idea as to how critically students need to approach the discussions in computer conferencing.

What needs to be noted here is that studies such as this do not analyse thought processes, rather manifestations of thought processes. It is important to realise that simply because CCT is not outwardly demonstrated, it does not mean that CCT has not taken place. As Schallart, Reed and D-Team (2003) have stated, “students learn not only by posting comments in the discussion but also by reading other students’ and their teacher’s comments” (p. 109).  CCT that is not outwardly expressed is called tacit negotiation (Gunawardena, et al., 1997) or tacit co-reflection (Yukawa, 2006). Therefore, one inherent limitation of studies on critical thinking is that they can only capture the demonstrated cognitive behaviours without being able to observe internal cognitive processes (Arend, 2009; Arnold & Ducate, 2006).

However, while it is difficult to measure learners’ tacit negotiations as they are not readily accessible, through qualitative surveys, retrospective commentary, and introspective measures, researchers can arrive at an understanding of learners’ internal critical thinking before, while and after participating in computer conferencing such as on ADFs. Through qualitative surveys, researchers can also understand how the internal critical thinking processes are manifested in written communication such as those carried out on ADFs. Therefore, qualitative survey-based research can more meticulously examine whether and to what extent tacit CCT is taking place, and to investigate what factors hinder or facilitate such collective critical thinking processes.

Operational definition of CCT in CSCL Contexts

Informed by the findings of the current study, some of which are reported in Ghodrati and Gruba (2011), I propose an inductive and hierarchical yet cyclical definition of critical thinking that attempts to capture both the process and the product of CCT:

The overt and tacit interaction between two or more individuals which involves collectively questioning, analysing, synthesising, evaluating and making decisions in order to build the collective knowledge of the group and the knowledge of the individuals in the group.

To elaborate, CCT occurs both actively and tacitly (Gunawardena, et al, 1997; Yukawa, 2006). In a dialogue, the reflective self seeks feedback, shares ideas and critically addresses the ideas shared by others through explicit interaction. This is called active co-reflection (Yukawa, 2006) or overt negotiation (Gunawardena, et al., 1997). However, the process of CCT is not always active/overt. In line with Lantolf’s (2000) proposition, linguistically-mediated cognition is social even when one is acting alone. In other words, learners also engage in CCT through tacit co-reflection (Yukawa, 2006) or tacit negotiation (Gunawardena, et al., 1997) by seeking “responses to others who are brought to mind through reading, memories of previous interactions, or vicarious experience” (Yukawa, 2006, p. 207). In contrast with active co-reflection which can be observed and investigated in online postings, tacit co-reflection is not readily accessible or observed. Investigating tacit CCT requires enquiring beyond postings on ADFs. It requires eliciting information about the individual’s and the group’s thought processes before, while and after participating on ADFs.

Another key term in the proposed definition of CCT is interaction, also called active participation (Mercer & Wegerif, 1999). In contrast with participation, which in computer-mediated and online communication platforms such as on ADFs is defined as the posting of comments, interaction is defined as the posting of messages that either explicitly or implicitly respond to others’ messages (Schrire, 2004, 2006). Interaction can be instructor-centred or student-centred (i.e. online participants addressing their comments to only one online participant), both of which are considered individualistic. Interaction can also be synergistic (i.e. online participants addressing more than one online member) which is considered collaborative (Schrire, 2004). However, not all collaborative interactions in a group involve critical thinking. Collaborative interaction that involves questioning, analysing, synthesising, evaluating and decision making is the kind of interaction that demonstrates different levels of CCT (Garrison, et al., 2001; Gunawardena, et al., 1997). Such interaction is exploratory (e.g. Ferguson, 2009; Mercer & Littleton, 2007), and when triggered by cognitive conflict on the part of one or more members results in ‘challenge and explain’, provided it is shared actively/overtly with others. Such interaction is also constructive (Jenlink & Carr, 1996), in the sense that it builds the collective knowledge of the group as the group discusses and negotiates issues (i.e. critical thinking at the group level), and also builds on the already established knowledge of the individual as a result of tacit and active co-reflection (i.e. critical thinking at the individual level).

Conclusion

This paper presented the ontological and methodological challenges encountered in conducting a qualitative case study of the demonstration of CCT on ADFs in a blended higher education learning context. At the ontological level, I discussed the challenges in conceptualising and defining critical thinking that occurs when a group works together (i.e. CCT). At the methodological level, I presented the challenges in constructing a synthetic coding scheme to measure the demonstration of CCT on ADFs. In addition, I discussed ways to overcome these challenges. I arrived at a number of solutions to the ontological and methodological challenges encountered in the current study by a) reconceptualising critical thinking as a collaborative activity in CSCL contexts, b) constructing a synthetic coding scheme for measuring CCT on online collaborative learning platforms such as on ADFs, and c) proposing an operational definition of CCT in CSCL contexts.

It should be noted that the synthetic content analysis model and the operational definition of CCT proposed in this paper are based on the findings of research in a specific learning setting (i.e. a blended subject in higher education) using a specific online communication tool (i.e. ADF). While the proposed content analysis model for measuring the demonstration of CCT on ADFs and the proposed CCT definition were closely informed by the social conceptualisation of cognition suggested in the previous research, further research should investigate the applicability of both the definition and the content analysis model to a) other learning contexts where ADFs are used, and b) the learning contexts where other CSCL tools such as wikis, blogs and synchronous chat are used.

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Biographical Statement

Nazanin Ghodrati PhD, is a lecturer in English for Academic Purposes at Trinity College-The University of Melbourne, Australia. Her PhD research was on the development of collaborative critical thinking in multicultural blended learning contexts in higher education. Her research interests are computer-supported collaborative learning, critical thinking and cross-cultural communication.

Contact: nghodrat@trinity.unimelb.edu.au, gnazanin@unimelb.edu.au

Winnie Shao, Wentao Guan, Melissa A. Clark, Tao Liu, Claudia C. Santelices, Dharma E. Cortés& Roland C. Merchant

Published Online: April 15, 2015

Full Text: HTML, PDF

Abstract: For a world-wide, Internet-based study on HIV/AIDS and HIV testing knowledge, we compared the yields, speed and costs of recruitment and participant diversity across free postings on 13 Internet or social media platforms, paid advertising or postings on 3 platforms, and separate free postings and paid advertisements on Facebook.  Platforms were compared by study completions (yield), time to completion, completion to enrollment ratios (CERs), and costs/completion; and by participants’ demographic characteristics, HIV testing history, and health literacy levels.  Of the 482 English-speaking participants, Amazon Mechanical Turk yielded the most participants, recruited participants at the fastest rate and had the highest CER (0.78) and lowest costs/completion. Of the 335 Spanish-speaking participants, Facebook yielded the most participants and recruited participants at the fastest rate, although Amazon Mechanical Turk had the highest CER (0.72) and lowest costs/completion. Across platforms participants differed substantially according to their demographic characteristics, HIV testing history and health literacy skills. The study results highlight the need for researchers to strongly consider choice of Internet or social media platforms when conducting Internet-based research. Because of the sample specifications and cost restraints of studies, specific Internet/social media or participant selection platforms will be much more effective or appropriate than others.

Keywords: Social media, recruitment, Internet, health education, health surveys, health literacy, HIV, AIDS, HIV testing

Introduction

By the end of 2014, there were approximately three billion Internet users worldwide, and 44% of all households worldwide had Internet access (International Telecommunication Union, 2014). Of all Internet users in 2014, two-thirds were from developing countries, whose population of Internet users has doubled since 2009. It is no surprise that with this massive user population that the Internet is considered a valuable tool for both health information dissemination and for researchers seeking to recruit a global sample of participants.

The advantages of Internet or social media-based research include low research costs for gathering data, short turnaround time for study completion, the ability to reach people in geographically remote areas and the opportunity to include individuals who may be hard to access through other recruitment methods (Wright, 2005). Potential disadvantages of using the Internet for study recruitment include difficulty reaching populations appropriate to the goals of the study and lack of representativeness among the accessed population, which can affect the external validity of the study findings (Heiervang & Goodman, 2011). The Internet has an overwhelming number of platforms through which people can be recruited. Few studies have sought to compare yield of participants, cost of advertising, speed of solicitation, and demographic characteristics of those recruited using different Internet recruiting strategies. Understanding these aspects is vital for Internet-based research since, depending on the effectiveness of recruitment, results of the research study can be adversely impacted by even well-intentioned strategies. Therefore, there exists a need for researchers to know how to identify the websites and methods that can reach the greatest number of people appropriate to the goals of the study, are the most cost effective, and produce an appropriate sample for the research in question.

The Internet and social media appear to be enticing means of widely disseminating information about HIV/AIDS and HIV testing, perhaps particularly for those who use these media as their primary resource for information, are geographically isolated, or are hesitant to seek sensitive information in person or from other traditional sources. Accurate and engaging HIV/AIDS and HIV testing information presented through free, easy-to-access digital technologies offer new and broader ways to access communities who would benefit from this information (Singh & Walsh, 2012). Opening this avenues permits empowerment through knowledge whether for prevention, self-understanding of risk and behavior, encouragement of testing, or with hope, reduction of HIV/AIDS stigma without compromising anonymity. One such Internet-based open distance and flexible learning program is Frontline TEACH (Treatment Education Activists Combatting HIV), an adaptation of Project TEACH in Philadelphia (Sowell, Fink, & Shull, 2012). This interactive website has been offered HIV information and education since 2009, although as its authors note, its full impact has not yet been fully measured.

We recently studied the efficacy of an informational HIV/AIDS and HIV testing animated and live-action video (the “parent study”, (Shao et al., 2014)), available at http://biomed.brown.edu/hiv-testing-video/, among a global English- and Spanish- speaking Internet audience. We found that the video was able to improve knowledge about HIV/AIDS and HIV testing information among this worldwide Internet and social media-using population. While conducting this study, we utilized a myriad of Internet and social media platforms to recruit participants and through the study disseminate HIV/AIDS and HIV testing information. However, we observed that there were few prior studies that examined best practices on recruiting participants through Internet and social media platforms. Thus, we wanted to analyze our results from the parent study to show which platforms and recruitment strategies can be most effective in yielding better participation rates, yet are not cost prohibitive and yield participant samples appropriate to the goals of the study.

Our primary objective in this current investigation was to determine for a global sample of English- or Spanish- speakers which Internet or social media platforms and recruitment strategies yielded the most study completions within the shortest time, highest level of completions to enrollments (total completions/clicks or completion to enrollment ratios [CERs]), and lowest costs/completion for a study examining the efficacy of an informational HIV/AIDS and HIV testing animated and live-action video. Our secondary objective was to assess the extent to which participant demographic characteristics, HIV testing history, and health literacy varied among the samples recruited across these different Internet or social media platforms and strategies.

Methods

Design and purpose of the current investigation

This investigation examined the yield and speed of recruitment (the number of completed responses solicited from each Internet or social media platform), estimated the costs of advertising, and compared participant characteristic differences from a worldwide Internet-based study on HIV/AIDS and HIV testing knowledge. The study was approved by the investigators’ Institutional Review Board.

Parent study on which the current investigation is based

The parent study was a pre- vs. post-video knowledge improvement investigation among a global sample of English- or Spanish-speaking Internet and social media users of any age.  The objectives were to determine if a fifteen-minute, live-action and animated video “What do you know about HIV/AIDS and HIV testing?” (English-language version)/”¿Qué sabes sobre el VIH y sobre las Pruebas del VIH?” (Spanish-language version) (Merchant, Clark, Santelices, Liu, & Cortes, 2015)  improved HIV/AIDS and HIV testing knowledge (Shao et al., 2014).  The video used in this study were developed by members of the research team and described in detail previously. (Merchant et al., 2015) In brief, the fifteen-minute animated and live-action video contains United States Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC)-recommended elements of HIV/AIDS and HIV testing information (Centers for Disease & Prevention, 2001), as well as information about acute HIV infection and current methods of HIV testing. The narrated video follows two characters, racially and ethnically ambiguous male and female protagonists, as they receive information about HIV/AIDS and HIV testing and proceed through the HIV testing process. The characters are not named so to appeal to a wider audience and avoid social labels. Throughout the video, animation, graphics, images, still shots, text, and live-action segments are used to emphasize the topics presented. The English- and Spanish-language versions of the video contain equivalent content.

For the parent study, we created a study website which hosted English and Spanish versions of the study consent form; demographic characteristics, HIV testing history and health literacy questionnaires; identical pre- and post-video versions of a 25-item questionnaire that measured improvement in HIV/AIDS and HIV testing knowledge after watching the video (the “HIV/AIDS and HIV testing knowledge questionnaire”); and the video. English-language versions of the study questionnaires are provided in Appendix 1. The “HIV/AIDS and HIV testing knowledge questionnaire” contains five domains that examine understanding of and parallel the video’s content: the definition, nature, and distinction between HIV/AIDS; HIV transmission; HIV prevention; HIV testing methods; and the interpretation and meaning of HIV test results. The questionnaire’s development and evaluation have been described previously. (Merchant et al., 2015) The testing knowledge questionnaire was used as an objective assessment of improvement in knowledge before vs. after watching the video.

English or Spanish-speaking Internet users were solicited online to participate in the study across seventeen paid and free Internet or social media platforms. English- or Spanish-speaking Internet or social media users of any age who accessed the website were study eligible if they were not known to be HIV infected (by self-report), could complete the study via separate but linked English or Spanish language portals, and consented to participate. Participants were asked to give their consent on the first page of the website. Next they answered questions about their demographic characteristics, HIV testing history, the health literacy questions, a self-perceived knowledge question (which assessed subjective improvement in knowledge) and then the “HIV/AIDS and HIV testing knowledge questionnaire.” Next, they watched the video. The study website did not allow participants to fast-forward through the video to the post-video questionnaire and did not allow them to watch the video again. Afterwards they answered the self-perceived knowledge question and the “HIV/AIDS and HIV testing knowledge questionnaire” again. After completing the study, all participants were offered the chance to enter a lottery for one of four $50 Amazon.com gift cards.

Recruitment strategies

Seventeen Internet or social media platforms were used to solicit participants (Table 1) with either free postings or paid advertising. A mix of the top social networking websites by user traffic (eBiz, 2014), commerce websites, blogs, bookmarking, research solicitation websites and a general search engine were used. Platforms were selected based on their user penetration and recognition (i.e., the top sites used most frequently globally). Social bookmarking sites were selected based on number of users and ease of access (Alexa, 2014). We created a different Uniform Resource Locator (URL) for each Internet or social media platform, which allowed us to identify which platform participants used to reach the study and to track the number of times people clicked on each platform’s post. English and Spanish versions of each post were created for every platform.

Free and paid platforms

We first posted a short explanation of our study and a link to the study website on platforms that did not require posting costs or paid advertising (i.e., “free” platforms). Next, we paid for advertisements on four Internet or social media platforms: Facebook, Amazon Mechanical Turk, Google, and FindParticipants (Table 2). Google and Facebook were selected due to their status as the most used websites in the world (Facebook, 2013; NationMaster, 2014). FindParticipants and Amazon Mechanical Turk are websites specifically designed to locate participants for research studies. According to previous studies, participant recruitment on Amazon Mechanical Turk was found to be at least as reliable as traditional study recruitment methods (Berinsky, Huber, & Lenz, 2012; Buhrmester, Kwang, & Gosling, 2011).

For Facebook, we made our paid advertisements visible to the top 20 English-speaking and Spanish-speaking countries by population (NationMaster, 2014). No other characteristics were targeted or specified in the Facebook advertising campaign (i.e., no specific interests, age groups, gender or other attributes were selected to narrow the scope of those who could see the advertisements). Separate advertisement campaigns were created for the English and Spanish languages. For each language, we created two advertisements on Facebook. One advertisement linked directly to the study website, and the other linked to our Facebook page (which also hosted a link to the study website). Participants could access the study on Facebook either directly through an advertisement, through our Facebook page (which they also could access through an advertisement), or by seeing the Facebook page through a friend’s activity (a “like” of our page).

For Amazon Mechanical Turk, we posted a link to the study on that website and advertised payment offers for every completed response. Payment offers are bids that are advertised to viewers on the website which pay participants to complete a task, such as our study. We made separate posts in English and Spanish, which constituted different participant pools. Based on previous research, a $0.50 payment offer on Amazon Mechanical Turk could solicit participants from the United States (Berinsky et al., 2012). We experimented with increasing payment offers during the study to examine

Table 1: Description of recruitment Internet or social media platforms utilized in the study
Platforms

Type

Description

Number of Users
FREE PLATFORMS
Tumblr

Blog

Enables sharing and reposting of content

110M

Craigslist

Commercial

Displays classified advertisements

50M

Facebook**

Social Media

Enables sharing of photos, videos, pages, and apps

1.3 Bn

LinkedIN

Social Media

Networking business and professional

200M

MySpace

Social Media

Enables sharing of photos, videos, pages, and apps

30M

Twitter

Social Media

Enables Micro-blogging, RSS*, updates, following organizations and individuals

600M

4Chan

Social Bookmarking

Enables rapid sharing of content and images

N/A

Blinklist

Social Bookmarking

Enables tracking, saving, and sharing of website links

N/A

Chime.in

Social Bookmarking

Aggregates news and links

N/A

De.li.cious

Social Bookmarking

Enables storing, sharing, and discovering web bookmarks

5.3M

Digg

Social Bookmarking

Aggregates news

N/A

Pinterest

Social Bookmarking

Enables sharing of images, website, content

48.7M

Reddit

Social Bookmarking

Enables sharing of images and website and aggregating news

N/A

Stumbleupon

Social Bookmarking

Enables storing, sharing, and discovering web bookmarks

N/A

PAID PLATFORMS
Google

General

Enables content searching

1Bn+

Findparticipants

Research Specific

Enables connecting academic researchers with research participants worldwide

N/A

Facebook**

Social Media

Enables sharing of photos, videos, pages, and apps

1.3 Bn

Amazon Mechanical Turk

Commercial

Enables crowdsourcing of Internet marketplace and completion of tasks for a small fee

100K

*Bn=Billion, M=Million, K=Thousand, N/A=not applicable, RSS=Rich Site Summary    **Facebook was used as both a free and paid platform

Table 2: Paid platform descriptions, costs, and recruitment duration

Platforms

Population

to whom advertisement was visible

Budget
(per language)

Cost

method

Cost

details

Duration
of recruitment

Details

Facebook

Top 20 English- and top 20 Spanish-speaking countries by population

$50/day

Cost per click

$.50/click

11 days

Separate English- and Spanish-language campaigns, each with two advertisements: one linking to Facebook page, one linking to study website directly. Users could share the Facebook page to invite others to the study.

Google

All website users

$56.63/day

Bid per click

<$2/click

4 days

Advertisements appear as people searched for relevant topics. Link also provided to study’s Google+ page.

Amazon
Mechanical Turk

All website users

See cost details

Payment per completion

1) 240 participants solicited per language at $0.50/completion;
(2) 95 participants solicited per language at $1.00/completion; and (3) 50 Spanish-speaking participants solicited at $2.00/completion

14 days

Posted “task” (completion of study) in English and Spanish languages.

FindParticipants

All registered participants

$20 total

Lump-sum subscription

Lump-sum

subscription

30 days

English version of a recruitment email sent to 1000 participants. Spanish version sent to 53 participants.

their effects on the speed and yield of recruitment (Table 2). For Google Adwords, we launched two advertising campaigns (in English and in Spanish) which linked to our study website. For FindParticipants, we paid a fixed subscription cost for the ability to solicit participants via this platform and direct them to complete the study on our study website.

Data analysis

Completions, completions/day, CERs, and cost/completions were measured by language (English or Spanish). We recorded the number of times people clicked on our posts (if these data were available), the number of people who began the study, and the number of people who completed the study, as stratified by Internet or social media platforms. For each platform, we also calculated the average number of completed surveys per day (averaged throughout the duration of the post) to determine the speed of successful recruitment for each platform. For the paid platforms, we estimated the average cost of each completed survey by platform.

We compared the distributions of demographic characteristics, HIV testing history, and health literacy levels of the participants recruited across platforms by language. For English speakers, we compared these aspects among Facebook, Amazon Mechanical Turk, versus all other platforms combined. For Spanish speakers, we compared these aspects between Facebook and Amazon Mechanical Turk due to the small number of participants recruited on other platforms. Outcomes were reported as median and interquartile ranges (IQRs) for continuous variables and percentages for categorical variables. ANOVA testing was used for comparing continuous variables among multiple groups and the Kruskal-Wallis test for categorical variables.

Results

Yield and cost of recruitment across Internet or social media platforms

English speakers. Amazon Mechanical Turk had the highest yield for recruiting English-speaking participants (Figure 1, Table 3a). It had the highest CER, no refusals, and the fewest incomplete responses. Mechanical Turk recruited participants at the fastest rate and was the most cost effective (measured in average cost/completion) platform (Table 4). Paid Facebook advertising had the greatest visibility in that more Internet users saw the advertisement on this venue as compared to the other platforms. A large number of people also accessed our study through a newsfeed or ticker update because their friends “liked” our Facebook page after the launch of the advertisement campaign. Paid Facebook advertising was the second most effective for English speakers in terms of aggregate number of those recruited.  Paid Facebook advertising also yielded the most refusals and ineligible participants, the CER was much lower than the other platforms, and cost/completion was significantly higher than that of Mechanical Turk (but lower than the other two paid platforms).

Google was the least effective of our paid platforms for English-speaking participants, having generated no completions. It also solicited a significant number of ineligible participants. Of the free platforms (Table 3a), Facebook (the page and shares before the launch of the advertisement campaign) and Reddit had the most number of completions among English speakers. Few of the free platforms had more than 20 clicks on the posts about the study.

Spanish speakers. Facebook yielded the most completed responses for the Spanish–speaking participants (Figure 2, Table 3b) and the fewest ineligible

shao1

Figure 1: Summary of English-speaking participant recruitment enrolment

shao2

Figure 2: Spanish-speaking participant recruitment enrollment summary

Table 3a: English-speaking participant recruitment by platform

Advertising route

Duration of
recruitment (days)

Dollars
(USD) spent

Number of clicks

Cost/click

Completed

responses

Incomplete
responses

Refusals

Ineligibles

Cost/
attempt

Cost/
Completion

Free advertising

42

0

>96

0

44

56

2

1

Delicious

42

0

5

0

Reddit

42

0

>50

0

>10

Twitter

42

0

>34

0

Tumblr

42

0

0

0

Blinklist

42

0

0

0

Classified Ad

42

0

1

0

Chime.in

42

0

1

0

Digg

42

0

2

0

craigslist

42

0

1

0

LinkedIN

42

0

0

0

4chan

42

0

2

0

Pinterest

42

0

1

0

Unadvertised Facebook Page (friend invitation)

42

0

>14

0

14

Myspace

42

0

2

0

Paid advertising

Findpartcipants.com

30

20

N/A

0

13

19

2

0

N/A

N/A

Facebook Advertising

11

550

16148

0.034

78

728

60

34

0.61

6.9

Google Advertising

4

226.5

445

0.508

0

0

7

27

6.66

N/A

Amazon Mechanical Turk

14

247.5

N/A

N/A

347

78

0

24

0.55

0.7

TOTAL

1044

482

908

71

59

*USD=United States dollars, N/A=not applicable

Table 3b: Spanish-speaking participant recruitment by platform

Advertising route

Duration of
recruitment (days)

Dollars
(USD) spent

Number of clicks

Cost/click

Completed

Incomplete
responses

Refusals

Ineligibles

Cost/
attempt

Cost/
Completions

Free advertising

42

0

>25

0

2

1

0

0

Delicious

42

0

1

0

Reddit

42

0

10

0

Twitter

42

0

7

0

Tumblr

42

0

3

0

Blinklist

42

0

1

0

Classified Ad

42

0

1

0

Chime.in

42

0

1

0

Digg

42

0

0

0

craigslist

42

0

1

0

LinkedIN

42

0

1

0

4chan

42

0

0

0

Pinterest

42

0

0

0

Unadvertised Facebook Page (friend invitation)

42

0

0

0

Myspace

42

0

0

0

Paid advertising

Findpartcipants.com

30

20

0

0

0

0

0

0

20

20

Facebook

11

550

2424

0.036

173

501

29

25

0.753

3.14

Google

4

226.5

492

0.46

4

0

0

39

5.033

37.75

Amazon Mechanical Turk

14

209.5

N/A

N/A

156

50

2

9

0.95

1.31

TOTAL

1006

335

591

31

34

Table 4: English- and Spanish-speaking participant paid Internet or social media platform recruitment summary
English
Platform

Completion/Day

Cost/Completion

Clicks

CER

Facebook
Paid Advertising

7.1

$6.90

16148

0.09

Free Advertising

0.33

$0.00

18

0.09

Amazon Mechanical Turk

N/A

N/A

N/A

0.78

$0.50/completion

120

$0.50

331

0.73

$1.00/completion

107

$1.00

123

0.87

Google

0

N/A

445

0.0

Free Resources

1.05

N/A

50

0.39

Spanish
Platform

Completion/Day

Cost/Completion

Clicks

CER

Facebook
Paid Advertising

15.9

$3.14

15101

0.24

Free Advertising

0.02

0

0.24

Amazon Mechanical Turk

N/A

N/A

N/A

0.72

$0.50/completion

2.14

$0.50

25

0.6

$1.00/completion

10.57

$1.00

96

0.77

$2.00/completion

50

$2.00

99

0.51

Google

1.5

$37.75

445

0.13

Free Resources

0

N/A

3

0.0

*CER=Total Completion/Clicks, N/A=not applicable

responses across all recruitment platforms. Facebook solicitation was faster for Spanish than for English-speakers, and was the fastest method of solicitation across all platforms for Spanish-speaking participants (Table 4). Mechanical Turk had the second most completed responses and was the most cost effective for Spanish speakers. Solicitation, however, was not successful until we offered $2.00 per completion. CER was higher for Mechanical Turk than other platforms. Google solicited four completed responses from Spanish-speakers, the second lowest of the paid platforms (FindParticipants had zero). It also solicited the most number of ineligible responses. Free advertising was ineffective for Spanish-speaker recruitment, having only solicited three clicks and two completed responses.

Participant differences across Internet or social media platforms

English speakers. Across platforms, approximately half of English-speaking participants were in their mid-twenties in age, most had received formal education after high school, and most self-described themselves as having strong English-language skills (Table 5a). There were notable differences in participants across platforms. As compared to the other platforms, English-speaking participants from Amazon Mechanical Turk were slightly older, had more years of formal education and had higher health literacy skills. Participants from Facebook were more likely to be male, had lower self-described English language skills, were less likely to have ever been tested for HIV (but more likely to have been tested recently), and had lower health literacy skills. Participants from all other sites were more likely to be female, have fewer years of education (high school or less), have stronger self-described English-language skills, and have been tested previously for HIV.

Spanish speakers. Across platforms, Spanish-speaking participants were in the latter twenties in age, mostly male, and most had received formal education after high school, yet many indicated that they had lower health literacy skills. Compared to those recruited through Facebook, Spanish-speaking participants from Mechanical Turk were slightly older, more likely to be male, and were more likely to have college degrees. Participants from Facebook indicated better Spanish-language proficiency than those recruited from the other platforms. There were no differences between the platforms in participants’ HIV testing history and for two of the health literacy measures (Table 5b).

Geographic diversity

Among English speakers who completed the study, a majority came from Asia, primarily from India (Table 6). North America was the second most represented region. Of the Spanish-speaking participants, a majority was recruited from South America, with Venezuela, Colombia, and Ecuador being the most represented countries. Of those who came from Mechanical Turk, an overwhelming majority resided in India, with some from the Philippines or Pakistan. Facebook recruits were from a much more diverse geographic region, spanning an even distribution over several Latin American countries among Spanish-speaking recruits.

Table 5a: English-speaking participants demographic characteristics comparison

Facebook

Amazon
Mechanical Turk

Others

p-value

n=78

n=347

n=57

p<

Age (years; median, IQR)

25.5 (20.0, 36)

28.0 (25.0, 37.0)

25.0 (20.0, 33.0)

0.00

%

%

%

Gender (female)

29.5

44.1

57.9

0.00

Education

0.43

No school

0.0

0.0

0.0

Elementary

1.3

0.3

1.8

High school

3.8

2.4

3.5

General equivalency diploma

6.4

8.9

14.1

College

20.5

26.5

33.3

Bachelor degree

48.7

45.5

31.6

Graduate school or higher

9.2

16.4

15.8

Language skills

0.00

Very well

59.0

82.4

93.0

Well

34.6

17.6

7.1

Somewhat

3.9

0.0

0.9

Not well

2.6

0.0

0.0

Self-reported HIV test
Have ever tested for HIV

21.8

38.6

45.6

Last HIV test

0.02

Less than 6 months ago

52.9

17.2

23.1

Less than 1 year ago

5.9

16.4

15.4

Less than 2 years ago

29.4

18.4

26.9

Less than 5 years ago

0.0

20.9

26.9

More than 5 years ago

11.8

26.1

7.7

Health literacy
Confidence with completing forms

0.00

Not at all

12.8

0.9

1.8

A litte bit

12.8

6.6

5.3

Somewhat

14.1

17.3

21.1

Quite a bit

28.2

32.0

43.9

Extremely

32.0

43.2

28.1

Difficulty reading/understanding forms

0.02

Most of the time

2.6

3.8

7.0

Some of the time

15.4

21.0

7.0

A little of the time

39.7

32.3

22.8

None of the time

42.3

43.0

63.2

Needing help with forms

0.00

Most of the time

7.7

5.8

5.3

Some of the time

20.5

17.9

3.5

A little of the time

29.5

32.9

21.1

None of the time

43.5

70.2

70.10

*IQR=interquartile range

Table 5b: Spanish-speaking participants demographic characteristics comparison

Facebook

Amazon
Mechanical Turk

p-value

n=173

n=156

p<

Age (years; median and IQR)

27.0 (21.0, 38)

29.5 (25.0, 36.0)

0.02

%

%

Gender (female)

49.7

47.4

0.00

Education

0.00

No school

0.0

0.0

Elementary

1.2

0.0

High school

9.8

1.3

General equivalency diploma

16.2

8.3

College

37.0

28.2

Bachelor degree

27.8

49.4

Graduate school or higher

8.1

12.8

Language skills %

0.00

Very well

91.3

78.2

Well

8.7

18.0

Somewhat

0.0

1.9

Not well

0.0

1.9

Self-reported HIV test
Have ever tested for HIV

55.0

52.0

Last HIV test

0.60

Less than 6 months ago

24.2

22.2

Less than 1 year ago

19.0

24.7

Less than 2 years ago

14.7

19.8

Less than 5 years ago

28.4

19.8

More than 5 years ago

13.7

13.6

Health literacy
Confidence with completing forms

0.00

Not at all

14.5

18.0

A little bit

20.3

7.7

Somewhat

30.1

23.7

Quite a bit

27.8

32.7

Extremely

7.5

18.0

Difficulty reading/understanding forms

0.20

Most of the time

2.9

2.6

Some of the time

19.1

14.1

A little of the time

31.2

42.3

None of the time

46.8

41.0

Needing help with forms

0.06

Most of the time

4.6

0.0

Some of the time

15.6

17.3

A little of the time

25.4

26.9

None of the time

54.3

55.8

Table 6: Recruitment by region and country
Regions

Accessed in English and Spanish (Total)

English

Spanish

Accessed study
(total)

Refused

Ineligible

Incomplete

Complete

Accessed study (total)

Refused

Ineligible

Incomplete

Complete

North America

285

182

0

2

73

182

103

1

1

46

103

Canada

4

4

0

0

7

4

0

0

0

1

0

Cuba

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

United States

267

178

0

2

66

178

89

1

1

34

89

Mexico

14

0

0

0

0

0

14

0

0

10

14

Central America

32

1

0

0

2

1

31

0

5

50

31

Anguilla

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

Antigua and Barbuda

1

1

0

0

0

1

0

0

1

0

0

Aruba

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

Bahamas

0

0

0

0

2

0

0

0

0

0

0

Belize

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

Costa Rica

3

0

0

0

0

0

3

0

0

2

3

Dominican Republic

17

0

0

0

0

0

17

0

3

20

17

El Salvador

5

0

0

0

0

0

5

0

0

9

5

Guatemala

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

3

0

Honduras

1

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

3

1

Nicaragua

5

0

0

0

0

0

5

0

0

12

5

South America

151

1

0

0

1

1

150

2

18

237

150

Argentina

8

0

0

0

1

0

8

0

1

10

8

Brazil

1

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

1

Bolivia

14

0

0

0

0

0

14

0

1

27

14

Chile

6

0

0

0

0

0

6

0

1

19

6

Colombia

32

0

0

0

0

0

32

0

2

47

32

Ecuador

28

0

0

0

0

0

28

0

1

34

28

Paraguay

8

0

0

0

0

0

8

0

4

43

8

Peru

11

0

0

0

0

0

11

0

0

15

11

Trinidad and Tobago

1

1

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

0

Uruguay

4

0

0

0

0

0

4

0

0

0

4

Venezuela

38

0

0

0

0

0

38

2

8

42

38

Europe

26

14

0

2

12

14

12

0

1

8

12

Albania

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

Andorra

1

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

1

Austria

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

2

0

Bulgaria

1

1

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

1

0

Greece

1

1

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

0

Italy

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

1

0

Lithuania

1

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

1

Macedonia

1

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

1

Netherlands

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

0

0

Norway

2

2

0

0

0

2

0

0

0

0

0

Portugal

1

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

1

1

Romania

3

3

0

0

0

3

0

0

0

1

0

Spain

8

0

0

0

0

0

8

0

0

1

8

Switzerland

1

1

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

1

0

Ukraine

1

1

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

0

UK and Northern Ireland

5

5

0

1

11

5

0

0

0

0

0

Asia

306

268

0

43

363

268

38

0

5

7

38

Afghanistan

0

0

0

0

2

0

0

0

0

0

0

Bahrein

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

Bangladesh

2

2

0

8

81

2

0

0

0

0

0

China

1

1

0

0

1

1

0

0

0

0

0

India

236

202

0

22

74

202

34

0

3

7

34

Indonesia

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

0

0

Iran

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

0

0

Israel

2

2

0

0

1

2

0

0

0

0

0

Japan

1

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

1

Malaysia

2

2

0

0

0

2

0

0

0

0

0

Myanmar

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

0

0

Oman

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

0

0

Pakistan

19

19

0

9

115

19

0

0

0

0

0

Philippines

38

36

0

4

80

36

2

0

1

0

2

Qatar

0

0

0

0

2

0

0

0

0

0

0

Saudi Arabia

1

1

0

0

2

1

0

0

0

0

0

UAE

3

3

0

0

1

3

0

0

0

0

0

Vietnam

1

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

1

Greater Australia

1

1

0

0

8

1

0

0

0

3

0

Papua New Guinea

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

0

0

Australia

1

1

0

0

7

1

0

0

0

0

0

Africa

17

16

0

2

28

16

1

1

0

1

1

Algeria

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

Botswana

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

Egypt

14

13

0

1

21

13

1

0

0

1

1

Kenya

0

0

0

1

1

0

0

0

0

0

0

Morocco

1

1

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

0

Nigeria

0

0

0

0

3

0

0

0

0

0

0

South Africa

2

2

0

0

2

2

0

0

0

0

0

Zambia

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

0

0

Pacific

3

0

0

0

0

0

3

0

0

0

3

French Polynesian Islands

1

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

1

Other

1

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

1

Antarctica

1

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

1

Discussion

This investigation provides important insight into differences in recruitment across Internet or social media platforms in terms of their yield, cost, and participant characteristics for a global study of English- or Spanish-speakers about increasing HIV/AIDS and HIV testing knowledge. Each platform used in this study exhibited advantages and disadvantages in regards to recruitment and participant diversity, which have implications for future research when using the Internet or social media for studies such as these.

Amazon Mechanical Turk and Facebook exhibited the greatest overall recruitment results. Amazon Mechanical Turk was the most effective in recruiting English-speakers in terms of cost effectiveness, CER, and total yield. This was likely due to participants being guaranteed a payment for each complete response. However, one might be concerned that participants from this platform are trained in completing online questionnaires for payment. As such, this group of participants might be less interested in learning about the topic, as compared to those who might seek information about HIV/AIDS and HIV testing for their own knowledge empowerment. We cannot gauge, however, motivation to complete the study, as that was not measured outcome. Researchers should be mindful that although websites such as Amazon Mechanical Turk might be very useful in finding participants, the applicability of the research findings to other populations might be questioned. This caution might particularly be relevant for investigations that measure the impact of educational or informational media, such as examined in the parent study on the utility of the HIV/AIDS and HIV testing video. In this study, Amazon Mechanical Turk participants could have been less engaged in the topic, which could have reduced the measured utility of the video. However, as noted, the video was shown to improve knowledge among participants (Shao et al., 2014). Future researchers examining other digital educational interventions might not be as fortunate.

Paid Facebook advertising was not as cost effective, but reached a more diverse sample geographically and demographically. Paid Facebook advertising was also more effective at reaching a Spanish-speaking audience. Another advantage in using Facebook was in the organic capabilities of content sharing. Many participants engaged in our Facebook page left comments and further questions, indicating interest in the subject beyond the scope of the parent study. In addition, participants or visitors to our page also “Liked” and “Shared” our page throughout the duration of the study, and activity on the page continued even after the advertisement campaigns ceased. These activities let to increasing the spread of the study which led to further recruitment possibilities. Further, “liking” and “sharing” led to further dissemination of the video, which is a highly useful aspect of social media networking and commensurate with the underlying goal of improving HIV/AIDS and HIV testing knowledge.

Amazon Mechanical Turk and Facebook, however, had other significant limitations despite their greater total yield and cost effectiveness. Amazon Mechanical Turk included primarily well-educated participants from South and Southeast Asia, and future researchers should expect this trend as well. There were also not as many Spanish-speakers with access to Amazon Mechanical Turk, so those wishing to recruit Spanish-speakers should investigate Facebook as an option instead. Yet, Facebook had a much lower completion rate in relation to the amount of people who accessed the study. If researchers are purely looking for quick survey completions without regards to specific demographic representation concerns, Amazon Turk would be preferable. However, this choice comes with costs and the aforementioned concerns regarding internal and external validity of the study findings.

For researchers who plan to use the Internet or social media to recruit participants, it is important to anticipate challenges during the study planning stages and consider how certain platforms might be better suited for one’s budget, demographic targets, and research goals. As demonstrated in this investigation, the reach of the study (i.e., who will see it) and conversion of views to completions differs among the platforms and can vary significantly depending on the amount of money spent for advertising and offered compensation. If a researcher is unable to spend money on recruiting, free platforms can be used, but as shown by this study’s results these platforms might be less effective at recruiting participants and time elapsed to completing recruitment goals might be longer.

The online platforms chosen for participant solicitation for studies can have significant implications on a researcher’s findings. There is a potential to reach a large, global audience, yet there also is the possibility of obtaining inappropriate or non-representative samples. Researchers should be explicit in their participant demographic characteristic needs and plan Internet-based recruitment strategies carefully, so not to discover after recruitment that the sample collected is not representative of the targeted population. Researchers also need to keep in mind that some platforms may not be fully globally accessible. Both Google and Facebook, for instance, are currently blocked in China, providing limited access to that population (Frizell, 2014). Facebook also has experienced censorship in Cuba, North Korea, and Syria. Google and YouTube have faced restrictions in China, Iran, and Pakistan (Google, 2015). Facebook and Google also are not the most used social media and search engines in all countries. There also exist popular social media websites in Latin America that are not readily used in the United States. Researchers may be interested in expanding availability of content to these other large platforms, particularly in areas experiencing censorship. Based on our experience with this study, we recommend that whenever possible researchers should examine Internet or social media platforms on their projected recruitment yields, cost of advertising and characteristics of the platform’s users. We also recommend that studies provide explicit details on their recruitment yields and participant characteristics when using multiple Internet or social media platforms to help inform future researchers on best pathways to achieve their goals.

Limitations

Given the study topic and the platforms chosen for recruitment, the findings from this study may not apply to other types of research that targets specific groups, solicits participants with other demographic characteristics or spoken languages, addresses different topics, uses other study formats or involve other Internet or social media platforms. Also, because our aim was to recruit as many participants as possible, this was an observational study, and so the platforms were not randomly chosen; the study findings (e.g., yield, costs of recruitment, recruitment diversity) were undoubtedly influenced by these factors. However, we believe that the observations were valid for the platforms chosen and study design employed.

Conclusion

In conclusion, we observed significant variations in study completions, time to study completions, level of completions to enrollments and costs/completion across Internet and social media platforms in this global study of increasing HIV/AIDS and HIV testing knowledge through an animated and live-action video. In addition, we observed that participant demographic characteristics, HIV testing history, and health literacy varied among the samples recruited across Internet or social media platforms. Some platforms led to quick recruitment, yet had costs and potential concerns about internal and external validity of the study findings. Other platforms provided slower recruitment, but enabled opportunities to spread knowledge opportunities through social networking. As shown by the results of this study, there is an inherent trade-off between the rate of data collection and the diversity of participants recruited for Internet-based research. Depending on research needs in terms of speed, completions, and participant language, the choice of recruiting strategies through social media and the Internet can have very different yields, costs, and resultant participant characteristics. Researchers choosing Internet-based recruitment for studies should consider these aspects and invest their resources wisely in light of their study goals. Public health workers and advocates outside of academia concerned with information dissemination and survey work should also consider appropriate Internet and social media platforms commensurate with their objectives.

References

Alexa. (2014). The top 500 sites on the web.   Retrieved from: http://www.alexa.com/topsites

Berinsky, A. J., Huber, G. A., & Lenz, G. S. (2012). Evaluating online labor markets for experimental research: Amazon.com’s Mechanical Turk. Political Analysis, 20, 351-    368.

Buhrmester, M., Kwang, T., & Gosling, S. D. (2011). Amazon’s Mechanical Turk: A New source of Inexpensive, Yet High Quality, Data? Perspectives on Psychological Science,         6(1), 3-5. doi: 10.1177/1745691610393980

Centers for Disease, C., & Prevention. (2001). Revised guidelines for HIV counseling, testing, and referral. MMWR. Recommendations and reports: Morbidity and mortality weekly           report. Recommendations and reports / Centers for Disease Control, 50(RR-19), 1-57; quiz CE51-19a51-CE56-19a51.

eBiz. (2014). Top 15 Most Popular Social Networking Sites. eBiz: the MBA Guide. Retrived from: http://www.ebizmba.com/articles/social-networking-websites

Facebook. (2013, 2013/07/24/). Facebook Reports Second Quarter 2013 Results.

Investor Relations. Retrieved from:  http://investor.fb.com/releasedetail.cfm?ReleaseID=780093

Frizell, S. (2014). Here Are 6 Huge Websites China is Censoring Right Now. Retrieved from: http://time.com/2820452/china-censor-web/

Google, I. (2015). Known disruptions of traffic to Google products and services. Transparency report. Retrieved from: https://www.google.com/transparencyreport/traffic/disruptions/#expand=Y2015

Heiervang, E., & Goodman, R. (2011). Advantages and limitations of web-based surveys: evidence from a child mental health survey. Social Psychiatry and Psychiatric    Epidemiology, 46(1), 69-76. doi: 10.1007/s00127-009-0171-9

International Telecommunication Union. (2014). ICT Facts and Figures. Geneva, Switzerland: International Telecommunication Union.

Merchant, R. C., Clark, M. A., Santelices, C. A., Liu, T., & Cortes, D. E. (2015). Efficacy of an HIV/AIDS and HIV Testing Video for Spanish-Speaking Latinos in Healthcare and Non-Healthcare Settings. AIDS and behavior, 19(3), 523-535. doi: 10.1007/s10461-014-0889-6

NationMaster. (2014). Countries Compared by Language. International Statistics at NationMaster.com. NationMaster.com. Retrieved from: http://www.nationmaster.com/country-info/stats/Language/Spanish-speakers

Shao, W., Merchant, R. C., Clark, M. A., Liu, T., Guan, W., Santelices, C. A., & Cortes, D. E. (2014). Does a video improve HIV/AIDS and HIV testing knowledge among a global sample of internet and social media users? [abstract] Paper presented at the National Conference on Health Communication, Marketing and Media, Atlanta, GA.

Singh, G., & Walsh, C. S. (2012). Prevention is solution: Building the HIVe. Digital Culture and Education, 4(1), 5-17.

Sowell, V., Fink, J., & Shull, J. (2012). Innovative digital HIV and AIDS education and prevention for marginalised communities: Philadelphia’s Frontline TEACH. Digital   Culture and Education, 4(1), 110-126.

Wright, K. B. (2005). Researching Internet-Based Populations: Advantages and Disadvantages of Online Survey Research, Online Questionnaire Authoring Software Packages, and Web Survey Services. Journal of Computer-Mediated Communication, 10(3),  00-00. doi: 10.1111/j.1083-6101.2005.tb00259.x

Biographical Statements

Winnie Shao is an undergraduate student at Brown University. She completed this study as part of an independent study project. She was supported by a summer undergraduate research opportunity from the Lifespan/Tufts/Brown Center for AIDS Research (P30AI042853), which is supported by a grant from the National Institute of Allergy And Infectious Diseases.

Wentao Guan is a biostatistics graduate student at the Brown University School of Public Health. He was supported by a graduate assistantship from the Brown University Department of Emergency Medicine.

Melissa A. Clark is Professor of Epidemiology of the Brown University School of Public Health and Professor of Obstetrics and Gynecology of the Alpert Medical School of Brown University.

Tao Liu is Assistant Professor of Biostatistics of the Brown University School of Public Health.

Claudia C. Santelices is Associate Research Scientist of the Northeastern University Institute on Urban Health Research and Practice.

Dharma E. Cortés is Adjunct Assistant Professor of the Northeastern University Institute on Urban Health Research and Practice.

Roland C. Merchant is an emergency medicine physician and researcher in the Department of Emergency Medicine of Rhode Island Hospital, and Associate Professor of Emergency Medicine, Alpert Medical School of Brown University, and Epidemiology, Brown University School of Public Health.

Contact: Roland C. Merchant, MD, MPH, ScD, Rhode Island Hospital, Department of Emergency Medicine, 593 Eddy Street, Claverick Building, Providence, Rhode Island, USA 02903. rmerchant@lifespan.org

Osvaldo Cleger

Published Online: April 15, 2015

Full Text: HTML, PDF

Abstract: The main purpose of this article is to analyze how a representative selection of computer games, set mostly in a Latin American context or at the US-Mexico border, are capable of mounting arguments about immigration policy by making good or poor uses of what Ian Bogost has conceptualized as “procedural rhetoric” (Bogost 2007). In other words, my goal in this article is to explore to what extent videogames can be effectively persuasive in the way they manage to create a computational representation of the experience of migrating, and its associated consequences, independently of the legal or illegal status of such displacements. This article revises current research on procedural representation to offer a detailed analysis of a representative selection of digital games dealing with this particular issue (Border Patrol, Tropico (I-IV), ICED!, Rescate: Alicia Croft, and Papers, Please). Finally, I will show how two commercial games produced mostly for entertainment purposes (such as Tropico and Papers, Please) can be more effective at mounting a procedural argument and, plausibly, at influencing players’ opinions on a particular issue than a “serious game” (such as ICED!). Based on this analysis, I propose to move beyond this distinction between entertaining and serious to focus on what is particular about videogames in general, that can make them into more efficient tools to disseminate ideas and provide players with more opportunities for experiential learning.

Keywords: Immigration in videogames, procedural representation, Latinos in New Media, serious games.

Introduction

In 2006, a Flash-based game released anonymously over the Internet sparked great controversy in the US, particularly among immigrants’ rights activists, US Latino organizations and gamers from all sides of the political spectrum. The game in question, entitled Border Patrol, was set at the US-Mexican border, where the player in the role of a border patrol agent was instructed to shoot and kill as many illegal border crossers as possible before the game ended. In the opening screen, unwanted undocumented immigrants were cartoonishly portrayed as falling into one of three categories: Mexican Nationalists, Drug Smugglers and Pregnant Breeders. Once the game started and after a brief period of frantic shooting – lasting usually less than 30 seconds – players were shown the final score, which tabulated the total amount of “wetbacks” he/she had been able to eliminate.

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Figure 1. Opening Screen of Border Patrol

Since its ominous debut – and to no one’s surprise – most players and commentators have described Border Patrol in very negative terms, viewing it as an attempt to promote a “racist agenda” and “spread hatred” against Mexican immigrants and US Latinos in general[1] (Silverstein 2006, Daniels and LaLone 2012). Nonetheless, the general agreement about the malicious nature of this game has not prevented other players and critics from offering the opposite interpretation. Professor Frederick Luis Aldama is among those who believe the real objective of Border Patrol is “to open eyes to the everyday violence against Latinos, human-rights violations and racist policy making behind anti-immigration laws” (Aldama 2012, p.358). According to Aldama, “the game’s cartoonlike graphics and general design aims to caustically poke fun at racists;” and this denunciatory message is conveyed in part by putting the player into “the uncomfortable position of shooting border crossers” (Aldama 2012, p.358).

The fact that a game with such a low production value like Border Patrol has been able to generate so much controversy and conflicting opinions underscores the growing impact videogames have in our society, as well as the medium’s capacity to encapsulate ideas, political messages and social agendas promoted by different interest groups and constituencies. In 2010, a similar game commissioned by the Spanish conservative party (Partido Popular), showed Alicia Sánchez Camacho, the Party’s pick for the regional elections in Catalonia, shooting illegal immigrants while they tried to enter the country jumping from helicopters. The game was removed from the campaign’s website after causing outrage among large segments of the Spanish electorate. According to a statement released by the Party, the inclusion of “illegal immigrants” in the game was a mistake made by the developers, and not an expression of the Party’s position on this issue. The original intention had been to show Alicia Sánchez Camacho shooting “illegal mafias,” as well as other icons alluding to the Catalonian nationalist movement, such as the movement’s flag, or denouncing wasteful spending by the local government (El País 2010).

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Figure 2. Screenshot of Rescate Alicia Croft (2010)

This was not the first time a major political party in Europe used videogames to express its views on immigration in an attempt to attract the attention of young voters. A year earlier, the Italian Northern League (or Lega Nord) had made headlines in Italy when two young members of the party, Renzo Bossi and Fabio Betti, released a game on Facebook inviting players to sink boats full of undocumented immigrants trying to reach the Italian coast (Pasqua 2009, Melchionda 2009). The game, extremely simple in design, consisted of a map of Italy surrounded by approaching boat icons, which the player had to click on to make them disappear from the map. If players managed to prevent enough boats from reaching the coast, they were immediately promoted to the next level; otherwise they would get a message saying: “Prova ancora. Vedrai che la prossima volta riuscirai a dimostrare di essere un vero leghista” (Pasqua 2009). (“Try again. You will see, next time you will be able to prove you are a good Lega supporter”). After being decried as racist by the National Association for Social Promotion, this game was also promptly removed from the Northern League’s Facebook account. But the decision to remove the game was not made this time by the developers or the party, but by Facebook site administrators.

On the other end of the political spectrum, human-rights organizations, such as Breakthrough, have also used videogames to promote their political agenda in defense of immigrants’ rights. ICED! is the title of a Breakthrough production in which the player is put in the role of both legal and undocumented immigrants living in the US who must make good decisions to avoid deportation. Another production by Breakthrough, Homeland Guantanamos, puts the player in charge of investigating the atrocities committed by US officials at an immigration detention center (Bernstein 2008). And there are a handful of other computer games developed during the last fifteen years, in which the topic of border-crossings has been approached from a variety of perspectives, both in reference to the US-Mexican border and other international state boundaries.

My main goal in this article is to analyze how computer games are capable of mounting arguments about immigration policy by making good or poor uses of what Ian Bogost has conceptualized as “procedural rhetoric” (Bogost 2007). In other words, my purpose in the following pages is to explore to what extent videogames can be effectively persuasive in the way they manage to create a computational representation of the experience of migrating, and its associated consequences, independently of the legal or illegal status of such displacements.

Immigration as human and computer process

Migration is a human process strictly regulated by a set of rules, laws, practices and protocols that define, with more or less clarity, the manner in which this process should be carried out between the citizens of two or more nations (Johnson 2009). In countries such as the United States, immigration laws can be highly complex, allowing for multiple exceptions to some general rules[2]. These rules are often defined by a body of legislation that has been enacted over the course of several decades, responding to different historical circumstances and political or socio-economic imperatives[3]. Immigration laws are not only written and applied differently depending on the country of origin of the prospective visitor or immigrant; but they can also treat in different ways people coming from the same country depending on their socio-economic status, criminal records or political affiliation[4]. For instance, a 20-year old Ecuadorian citizen without a steady job in his country and a certain amount of funds in a saving account will be less likely to get a visa to visit the US than an upper-middle class student of that country who has been accepted to MIT and offered a scholarship to pay for his graduate studies in the US (or he can otherwise prove that he has the financial resources to pay for his studies and living expenses while in the US). Although immigration laws, like any law, are written to provide a general legal framework that should be applicable to all individuals falling under the categories defined by the law, they are always applied on a case-by-case basis; and it is usually up to immigration authorities – or to be more specific, to one immigration officer – to determine whether a specific individual should be granted or denied his request of a visa, based on a quick and personal assessment of the potential risks associated with allowing that person into the country[5].

As we can easily conclude from the previous paragraph, legal immigration occurs within an extremely complex system that allows for multiple possible outcomes from the single action of an individual seeking formal entry into a foreign nation. This system becomes even more complicated when we also consider the parallel world of illegal immigration (Motomura 2014). In this case, we are also dealing with a very complex subsystem, made up of intricate rules, complicated and risky procedures and a labyrinth-like structured support network. Both systems put together (the legal and illegal one) give rise to an almost unmanageable space of migratory practices, regulated by laws as well as by multiple ways to circumvent them. It is not surprising to see that legislative bodies and elected officials are always so reluctant to deal with such a complex problem; and try usually to postpone its deliberation and the adoption of new immigration laws until the political cost of maintaining the status quo becomes to high to be a viable option.

Now, the fact that the immigration system is extremely complex doesn’t mean that it cannot be computationally modeled. Actually, the strictly procedural nature of immigration rules and practices makes this an ideal topic for computational media. Let’s not forget that the immigration system, with all its complexities, is built around a simple yes-or-no question: “Should subject X be granted or denied access into country Y?” Initially, that is all. Next, setting the conditions under which subject X should be allowed to enter and stay in country Y for a given period of time is the first predicate that turns what was a simple yes-or-no question into a much more complex proposition. Finally, the fact that both granting and denying subject X’s request of a visa could potentially have both positive and negative consequences for country Y – due to the close connection that exists between immigration, public security and economic policy – is what makes immigration rules so difficult to write, and so contingent upon the specific security concerns held by any country, as well as the particular economic development plan that country is pursuing.

Computationally modeling the immigration system in all its intricacies is neither a viable idea at the present nor something I intend to propose in this paper. The purpose of videogames, viewed as an expressive medium, is not as much to create an all-inclusive simulation of a world system, as it is to “selectively [model] appropriate elements of that world” (Bogost 46). Videogame aesthetics is based on procedural representation, which as Bogost has argued, is concerned with modeling “only some subset of a source system, in order to draw attention to that portion as the subject of the representation.” (Bogost 46) In this sense, we could say that procedural representation is not that much different from literary representation, since they both work by abstracting significant elements from the real world or the human experience in order to re-articulate those elements in a new structure that can only be understood or interpreted symbolically.

Procedural representation in videogame portrayals of migratory processes

But what is procedural rhetoric and how is it different from other forms of persuasion commonly found in literary discourse and visual media? Ian Bogost has defined “procedural rhetoric” as a type of persuasive discourse that is native to computer processes, and therefore, should not be confused with other forms of argumentation, such as the use of verbal or visual rhetoric. According to Bogost “A procedural rhetoric makes a claim about how something works by modeling its processes in the process-native environment of the computer rather than using description (writing) or depiction (images)” (Bogost, n.d.). Of course, videogames can also rely heavily on graphics and texts to convey their message. In fact we could argue that one of the factors that has spearheaded the development of the videogame industry, since its very inception, has been the interest in creating increasingly sophisticated graphics and eye-popping visual effects. These visual effects, in and of themselves, contribute somehow to enhance the persuasive effectiveness of videogames, due to the public’s inclination to grant authority to any media product that has been packaged with high-end visuals. As Bogost points out:

The use of highly polished visual and sound design builds an expectation of authority. Images hypnotize many consumers, and even the largest videogame companies often repackage the same games with improved (or simply different) graphics. Considerable attention and investment has gone into improving the visual fidelity of commercial games, including the move to high definition and higher polygon models on the now-current Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3 consoles. Visual fidelity implies authority (Bogost 2007, p.49).

But regardless of the higher or lower role high-end graphics may play in the videogame industry, visual representation is not quintessential to computer games, and is not as defining a feature as their process-driven architecture. As Bogost argues, what is quintessential to videogames is their capacity to “represent process with process,” something that “only procedural systems like computer software” can accomplish (Bogost 2007, p.14)[6].

To illustrate what I have previously said, let’s go back now to the example of Border Patrol. We can see in this game all three forms of rhetoric at work. First of all, most of the initial message is conveyed by verbal and visual means, through the cartoonish depiction of the “bad guys” in the game – the invaders, – as “Mexican Nationalists,” “Drug Smugglers” and “Pregnant Breeders.” As Scott McCloud has argued in Understanding comics: The invisible art (1994), cartoons derive most of their expressive power from their capacity to amplify their meaning by simplifying the representation or drawing, which in this case is accomplished by reducing each character to one or two salient features that clearly define them as undesirable border-crossers. An angry-looking bearded man flanked by two pistols and with the Mexican flag in the background, a tattoo-touting Drug-smuggler carrying a backpack full of cannabis, and a pregnant woman with three children in tow occupy the right side of the opening screen, while the cursor is immediately turned into a rifle crosshair that follows the movements of the mouse to point in the direction the player wants it to. Here we have all three representational modes commonly used in videogames working in unison, that is, visual and verbal signifiers and a discrete process that simulates the action of aiming a rifle at an objective. All three together introduce with great economy of resources what the game is about. The verbal instructions on the lower left side of the screen (“There is one simple objective to this game: keep them out… at any cost!”) sums up the information needed before the player hits the “play” button and begins to play. (Border Patrol 2006).

Most commentators who have approached Border Patrol with training in literary and visual culture studies have probably relied solely on these basic visual and verbal elements to interpret its meaning. The need to actually play the game to see how its message is reinforced or further expanded through gameplay is something that has been mostly overlooked by critics. This is largely due to a limited understanding, within the literary and cultural studies field, of how videogames work, and the central role procedurality plays when mounting an argument through gameplay. In the case of Border Patrol, two main variables are manipulated to model the illegal border-crossing process during the few seconds the game usually last: speed and distance. It is by changing the value stored in these two variables during a playing session that the designers try to illustrate their views about the issue being represented. For instance, the faster the player is at eliminating his targets the faster and further away from the shooter (that is, smaller, since distance in Flash games is represented in a bidimensional way) these targets become, making it harder for the player to kill them all before many manage to enter American soil. At first glance, the game seems to be mocking those who are in favor of militarizing the US-Mexico border as a remedy to stop the constant flow of undocumented immigrants coming from Mexico. By procedurally modeling to players that no matter how fast and deadly border patrol agents can be, this will not deter undocumented migrants from attempting to cross the border, and the only effect – if any – will be to speed up that process, Border Patrol seems to suggest that such extremist views about immigration policy are doomed to be counterproductive. From this perspective, Frederick Luis Aldama appears to be right in his assertion that Border Patrol “aims to caustically poke fun at racists” (Aldama 2012, p.358), contrary to the more widespread opinion that it is just a hate videogame (Silverstein 2006, Ituarte 2009, Daniels and LaLone 2012).

Now, when the player adopts a different strategy and decides not to shoot his targets, the speed at which his victims are approaching the border slows down dramatically, as they also start coming increasingly closer to the shooter. By manipulating speed and distance in this way, the game is now making the opposite procedural argument: that if Americans don’t do something radical to stop the constant flow of illegal immigrants coming from Mexico, these individuals will become increasingly emboldened by such inaction, to the point of just strolling through the border into the US, passing right in front of immigration authorities. One more element in the game that supports this interpretation is the fact that every playing session starts with the character of the pregnant woman attempting to cross the border. If the player, showing basic feelings of compassion and humanity, decides not to kill her, more pregnant women towing two kids immediately follow, coming every time at a slower speed and closer to the shooter. The player will not even see any drug smuggler or Mexican nationalist approaching the border until he decides first to shoot the woman and her children. The message, again, is very clear: “protect the borders at any cost!” even if it means murdering innocent women and children.

After examining more closely Border Patrol it becomes very clear that this is actually a hate game, rather than an over-the-top depiction of extremist ideas to make bigots feel ashamed of the views they uphold. The player in the game is presented with two choices and two possible outcomes: either a bloody war with illegal border crossers that cannot result in a perfect win situation (innocent people will be killed and many will still succeed in their attempt to enter the country illegally), or a passive acceptance of defeat by allowing border crossers to enter the country unchallenged, using pregnant women and innocent children as their “front-line of attack.”

One can conclude then that Border Patrol is indeed staunchly anti-immigrant; but this conclusion should be reached by considering the options the player is presented with during a playing session, and through the way the game handles procedurally the consequences associated with the player making in-game decisions. It is through this choice-decision-consequence modeling process that videogames encode ideology, even in the case of a very simplistic flash game such as Border Patrol.

As already commented at the beginning of this article, videogames can and have been used to support both anti- and pro-immigration views and sentiments. And these views have been expressed both relying on very emotional arguments and presenting more rational propositions. In some cases, like the game developed by the Italian Northern League, Rimbalza il clandestino, the expressiveness of the game clearly overpowers its ability to persuade people who don’t share already the game’s ideology. This is due, in part, to the fact that the designers in this case were not as much interested in attracting or persuading undecided voters on this issue to adopt their anti-immigrant views, as they were in reinforcing those views among their own constituents. The message the player receives after failing the mission, “next time you will be able to prove you are a good Lega supporter,” makes this purpose particularly clear. This game was not as much about gaining new supporters for the cause or expanding the party’s base, as it was about keeping and energizing those voters that have already embraced the party’s platform. Voters who are undecided on this issue will most likely find inhumane and unviable the solution to fix the immigration system proposed by the game producers: let’s sink their boats in the ocean before those undocumented migrants manage to reach our coasts. But among the most extreme members of the party and the Italian society, the game is likely to be an effective tool for energizing that base or recruiting those extreme elements.

In the example provided by Border Patrol we have a game that is slightly more difficult to read and more ambiguous in meaning not only due to its slightly subtler use of procedural rhetoric (that is, the alteration of the speed and distance of the targets in reaction to the player’s response to encode in this processes the game’s real message) but also due to its anonymous nature. The fact that we don’t know who produced or commissioned the game generates uncertainty about the political intentions of the game designers. As we have already noticed, even a very smart analyst like Frederick Luis Aldama has considered the game to be pro-immigrant’s rights, when as we have just deducted it is quite the opposite. But not knowing who made the game makes much more difficult to answer that question. The anonymous character of Border Patrol also accounts – possibly – for its survival on the Internet. While both the Catalonian and Italian anti-immigrant games were removed from the party’s website after causing national outrage among moderate and liberal segments of the Spanish and Italian population, Border Patrol, on the contrary, has been hosted and curated in many different sites, owing in part to the lack of a person, company or group that could be held accountable for producing the game. One online gaming site where the game is hosted (http://nerdnirvana.org) reports that Border Patrol has been played over eleven million times, receiving a 3.5 stars rating from a total of 18 802 reviewers (Border Patrol 2006).

But regardless of the differences we can enumerate over the manner in which these games were produced or distributed over the Internet, all three share the same purpose: they all speak to a segment of society with very strong views about immigration policy. These games are not so much about persuading others to join a cause, as they are about channeling people’s emotions regarding one of the most controversial issues of our time.

If we turn now our attention to I Can End Deportation! or ICED!, the videogame produced by Breakthrough in support of immigrants’ rights, we not only see a different perspective in terms of ideology, but also a different way to approach the persuasive nature of videogames. Since its founding in 2000, Breakthrough has worked continuously on spreading their message in support of minorities’ rights, with a focus both on women and ethnic or racial minorities. Even though Breakthrough is not a videogame company, they have embraced videogames, as well as advertising campaigns and pop music, as effective tools for their mission to create awareness in the public about issues of discrimination and injustice. Mallika Dutt, founder and CEO of the company, has spoken on numerous occasions about the need to bring young people into the discussion about human rights, and instill on them a passion for making the fight for justice an integral part of their everyday lives (Bhagavan 2012, Dutt 2012). From this perspective, videogames look certainly like a natural ally considering the strong influence they have on young people.

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Figure 3 ICED! Opening Screen.

But the question that needs to be asked is to what extent a videogame like ICED! really succeeds at persuading gamers that both legal and undocumented migrants living in the US deserve more respect from the public and the US government, and/or that current immigration laws and practices need to be changed to be fairer to this particular group? Since the release of the game over the Internet, in 2008, Breakthrough has been collecting data to try to provide an answer to that question. According to their own survey, 56% of players declare that playing the game changed their views about how immigrants are treated in the US (Diamond, & Brunner 2008). These numbers are based on a questionnaire that players have volunteered to answer both before and after playing the game. The questionnaire’s aim is to identify the presence of certain general misconceptions and erroneous beliefs regarding immigrants living in the US. For instance, one item in the questionnaire states: “Undocumented immigrants pay many of the types of taxes that US citizens pay.” (Diamond, & Brunner 2008, p.17) The designers of the game clearly anticipate that many players will believe this statement to be false, due to the widespread misconception that undocumented immigrants don’t pay any taxes. Then, the purpose of the game will be to help players correct those misconceptions by exposing them to “the true” about the real situation of undocumented immigrants living in the country. Finally, players are asked to take the same questionnaire at the end of the game as a way to assess the impact playing the game has had on their opinions. Breakthrough reports that more than half of the respondents have acknowledged a change of perspective regarding this issue (Diamond, & Brunner 2008).

Some commentators attribute these positive results to “the combined use of procedural rhetoric and simulated situated learning” in the game (Maiolini,  De Paoli  & Teli 2012). According to Maiolini et al, ICED! “uses the mechanic of player frustration in a very clever way. In ICED!, in-game frustrations are used to communicate to the players the daily difficulties and injustices that clandestine migrants face in the U.S.” And these authors conclude that: “Such a strategy is extremely efficient to teach users about legal issues” (Maiolini et al 2012). Mitgutsch and Alvarado seem to agree, at least partially, with the previous assessment. According to them, ICED! manages to model how unfair the US immigration system is to immigrant residents by making the option of voluntary deportation the easiest outcome in the game: “Leaving the country is the only easy option the player has – all other options are complicated and frustrating” (Mitgutsch & Alvarado 2012, p.127). Showing players that they can put an end to all the difficulties they are confronting in the game by volunteering to leave the country is a good example of an effective use of procedural representation in ICED!. But as I will discuss next, the game ultimately falls flat due to its heavy reliance on verbal rather than procedural means for conveying its main message, as well as other problems with its general design.

ICED! is essentially a role-playing game (RPG) that offers players the opportunity to experience the lives of five different young adults who are currently being sought by immigration authorities. One thing all characters have in common is that they all live in fear of being deported to their country of origin, despite the fact that most of them are either green-card holders or have some sort of legal status. This is one of the most interesting and educational decisions made by the game designers: instead of making undocumented Latinos the main focus of the game, they opted for presenting a variety of situations in which legal foreign residents of very diverse backgrounds are being harassed by immigration authorities, due in some cases to very minor offenses such as taking less school credits than they were required to registered for while on a student visa. The only Latino character in the game is Javier, a Mexican-born young adult who was brought to the US when he was only five, and whose parents made the decision “to stay in the United States to work and make a life” (ICED! 2008) after losing the family business they had in Mexico. We are further told that Javier’s family lost their business “because of NAFTA,” in an attempt to present the US government as partially responsible for this family’s fate and their decision to leave their country of origin. Finally, the acculturation of Javier as “American” is underscored by the fact that “his English is stronger than his Spanish” (ICED! 2008). Javier is essentially the embodiment of a “dreamer[7],” that is, one of many undocumented residents in the US who were brought by their parents when they were children, and whose cultural and linguistic ties to their country of origin are either very weak or nonexistent.

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Figure 4. Javier, one of five playable characters players can choose to play the game.

Other playable characters in the game are Ayesha, a green-card holder from India who was arrested by the FBI and blacklisted as a threat to the US after writing a school essay on the Patriot Act; Anna, a girl from Poland whose parents died shortly after they came to the US, and who has spent most of her teenage years in a detention center on marijuana possession charges; Marc, an Iraq veteran from Haiti who joined the military as a way to escape from the corrupt environment of his neighborhood in Brooklyn, but who came back from Iraq suffering of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and unable to find a job; and Suki, a Japanese students who is at risk of being deported for registering only 9 school credits during his first semester at Cornell University. These are all credible characters, experiencing real-life problems partially stemming from current immigration laws and practices.

To actually play the game, players have to chose one of these characters and enter the city environment where the game takes place. This environment consists of a realistic urban space, rendered in 3D, that players experience from a first-person perspective. Arrow keys are used to move around the city and the mouse to solve the “challenges” the player is presented with during a playing session. The mission of the game is to stay out of detention by “making good decisions and doing positive things for [the] community” (ICED! 2008). Players have to collect “civic points” by walking through several icons shaped as hands that represent their willingness to help the community by completing tasks such as donating blood or planting a tree. Other icons found around the city are light bulbs that are marking the locations where the player will be quizzed on his knowledge about US immigration laws and practices. Most of the ideological content of ICED! is made explicit through these questions, which are aimed to teach players to distinguish myths from facts regarding immigration laws and the reality of immigrants living in the US. For instance, one of the questions states: “Nearly half (45%) of all undocumented immigrants now living in the United States entered the country legally” (ICED! 2008). If the player answers that that is a “Fact,” he will receive 10 points and will see a dialog box providing further information on that topic. If on the contrary, he answers that it is a “Myth,” he loses the points and an immigration officer starts chasing him along the city streets. At certain locations, players are also presented with situations in which their characters may feel tempted to do something inappropriate, illegal or risky, like registering to vote in the elections, sneaking into the metro without paying the fare, or buying counterfeit DVDs from a shady street vendor. If the player decides to engage in any of these activities, more immigration officers will be after him. Once there are five officers chasing the player, in a Pacman-style mini-game, it will be very difficult not to get caught.

ICED! has received some unfavorable reviews based both on its content and its design. Regarding its content, some critics have noted that the game offers a negative and stereotypical view of immigrants, after all, by presenting them as more prone to engage in illicit activities that will ultimately get them in trouble. In this regard, Frederick Luis Aldama points out that:

Breakthrough’s ICED or I Can End Deportation (2007) is arguably meant to raise awareness by allowing players to feel what it’s like to live as an undocumented Latino. Ultimately, however, ICED falls back on racist stereotypes; you play an undocumented teen running from la migra (immigration) but score points by not jumping subway turnstiles and not stealing from local tiendas. The points keep you from being deported. The expectation: that stealing and taking advantage of the system is in the Latino DNA (Aldama 2013, p.246).

Although it is necessary to underscore that ICED! is not mostly about Latinos or undocumented immigrants and, as we have already noted, there is only one Latino character in the game, Frederick Luis Aldama is right in his observation that the game offers a stereotypical view of foreign residents as more prone to engage in illegal activities. Design-wise, the game has also been criticized for the designers’ decision to make a realistically looking city that is otherwise empty and lifeless. ICED! is supposed to take place in an urban environment populated enough to justify the need for a subway system. However, the city looks empty with the exception of the immigration officers chasing the player and a few other non-player characters located at certain points for the player to interact with. Interactive sound effects that are activated at specific locations are supposed to create the impression of a bustling city with an active crowd moving in the background. But this low-budget effort to generate the illusion of a dynamic city, rather than tricking the eye, only highlights the incongruity of the environment players can gaze upon.

But the mayor problem of this game doesn’t lie on its content or its aesthetics, but on its very limited use of effective procedural rhetoric to mount an argument in favor of immigrant’s rights. If we put aside the character selection segment, at the beginning of the game, and the pacmanesque persecution of the player by the immigration officers, we are only left with a large set of text boxes, describing different situations in which players have to prove that they are capable of telling right from wrong, and myths from facts. Users are left with the impression that they are just taking a quiz as part of a training program on civic education, which will be as engaging or persuasive as the words quiz or program can possibly encompass.

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Figure 5 Screenshot of one of the questions that players must answer correctly in order to prove their ability to distinguish myths from facts regarding the current state of the immigration system in the USA.

ICED! developers could have done a better job at justifying the need to create a videogame to present this content. Working with the premise that a videogame, in an of itself, should be an effective tool to educate young audiences disregards the fact that what makes videogames particularly persuasive is the specific way in which they are capable of delivering content to users. Repackaging a quiz as a game to add a “fun factor” to the presentation of information is a misguided use of the format, and one completely at odds with the principles of procedurality.

Procedural rhetoric can be an effective tool to train and educate audiences, regardless of age, because it is based on the capacity of computers to simulate real life processes; and therefore, this expressive medium is not as much about inculcating knowledge to users as it is about providing them with simulated experiences at a pre-cognitive stage. The lessons or knowledge to be learned, from playing the game, are not a given, but rather a result of the user’s free interaction with the environment. In other words, in procedural games learning outcomes should always be a byproduct of gameplay, and not their main focus. The effectiveness of such a learning framework stems from the fact that the resulting knowledge is not perceived as something given to the user, but rather as something he has independently acquired.

Let me illustrate with an example what I have just discussed. One of the myths about undocumented residents ICED! producers want to debunk is the idea that they don’t pay any taxes. The way this is accomplished in the game is by prompting players with a myth-or-fact question when they walk through one of the light bulb shaped icons placed around the city. If players answer that undocumented residents don’t pay any taxes, they lose points and are presented with a new text box expanding on the type of contributions these residents make to the state and federal government. The appearance of another immigration officer chasing the player is the price he has to pay for making such mistakes in the game.

A procedural way to present this content, rather than quizzing users for a specific answer, would have focused more on putting the player in the situation of having to pay taxes. Playing as Javier, the only undocumented resident in the game, the player could have discovered that, despite being undocumented, he still has payroll taxes deducted from his paycheck, which are regularly credited to the fake social security number he uses to work. To complicate things further, the player could at some point in the game find himself unemployed and unable to collect social security benefits, despite having made contributions to these funds for several years. This same situational learning model, which is at the core of procedural rhetoric, could have been used throughout the game, providing players with a more vivid and enticing way to explore the world of immigration. The conclusions players would draw from going through these processes would be the result of their own deductions instead of something they feel forced to accept.

The next example I am going to examine here will serve to illustrate, in a much clearer way, an effective application of the principles of procedurality to the design of a game approaching the topic of immigration in a Latin American environment. Tropico, first released in 2001 by Gathering of Developers, is a classic in the construction and management simulation (CMS) genre, whose initial and subsequent success made possible the expansion of the game, to include a total of nine new releases in the course of a decade. Daniel Chavez, who has studied this game from a cultural studies standpoint, conceptualizes Tropico as a ludic variant of what in Latin American literature is known as “the Dictator Novel,” as cultivated by authors such as Alejo Carpentier, Gabriel García Márquez, Miguel Ángel Asturias and Augusto Roa Bastos, in reference to several dictatorial regimes prevalent in the region since acquiring its independence from Spain (Chavez 2010). With the exception of the first sequel of the game, Tropico II: Pirate Cove (2003), which is a pirates game with a focus on loot and plunder, most other versions (Tropico I, III and IV) take place in a dystopian Caribbean island, a sort of “Banana Republic,” caught up in the middle of the conflicts of the Cold War period. The player, embodying the role of El Presidente, is tasked to complete several missions, which range from developing the industrial or agricultural sector of Tropico’s economy to just managing to stay in power while several internal and external forces try to overthrow him.

El Presidente wields unlimited power over the citizens of Tropico and the island’s natural resources. It is up to him to decide what new facilities he wants to build and where he wishes to place them, as well as how much salary should be paid to workers in all sectors, including farmers, industrial workers, bureaucrats, professionals and military personnel. In exercising his great powers, the player is only limited by the free will of his people – he cannot force his citizens to love him or be loyal to him, – the plausibility of the different situations – in the way what is considered “plausible” in the game has been predetermined by the game designers, – and finally by the consequences associated with any decision he has previously made. For instance, the player may want to build a new fishery to exploit the coastal resources of the island, but this will only be possible provided that there is a physical space available for the new wharf, enough construction workers to complete the project and willing to do it, and sufficient funds in the government’s coffers to pay for the initiative. In other situations the player may want or be asked to develop the industrial sector. But unless there are enough qualified professionals in Tropico to manage those industries the whole sector is doomed to be unproductive.

A game strategy to succeed in this mission could be to invest significant resources to provide an education and professional training for the people of Tropico. Building a strong K-12 and university system could do just that. But the same could also be accomplished in the game through immigration policy.

Although not strictly speaking a game on immigration, Tropico manages to simulate, in a very effective manner, the way the immigration system works in most modern societies. The immigration office is one of several government facilities the player can build; and actually opening this office will prove to be extremely beneficial to the player, since it will allow him to set the immigration policy he considers more effective in achieving the game goals. For instance, setting the immigration policy to “skilled workers [only]” could help the President get the qualified professionals he needs to develop an industry or staff positions that require a high school or college diploma. To make things more interesting, in most cases just activating this policy will not be enough, since the player will also need to offer lucrative salaries in those positions that are available or be willing to pay hiring bonuses and relocating expenses to prospective foreign experts to really succeed at attracting highly qualified individuals to the Island. Furthermore, the adoption of a policy offering the highest paying jobs to foreigners is likely to create resentment among the local population, which could eventually lead to a strong opposition movement fueled by the Nationalist faction.

If El Presidente continues to favor foreigners over locals as game strategy, or refuses to curtail the immigrant influx into the country, the Nationalist faction will call for elections and do everything in their hands to feed the social unrest and oust him from power. In this new scenario, the player will have to consider all the options available in the game to ease the situation and regain the trust of Nationalist leaders. He may decide, for instance, to close the borders, adopting a “Tropico First” policy. But this will also come with a price. After closing the borders, the sudden reduction in the immigrant influx will create a shortage in the workforce. While the President may have regained the support of the Nationalists by stopping the immigrant influx, he will now find himself unable to finish his construction projects; and with a shrinking population that will become increasingly unproductive. The scarcity of food and goods in the Island, and the ensuing lowering of living standards will soon generate new social unrest among Tropicans, including those members of the Nationalist faction that the President had tried to appease through restrictive immigration policies. An unproductive economy will also have a negative impact on international relations, reducing the ability of the President to get loans and foreign aid from international superpowers such as the US and the USSR. The size of the national debt is also tied in the game to an increase in the possibilities of a foreign invasion, which will also end the President’s regime. Once the Island’s economy is totally in shambles, either a superpower’s army or the local rebels coming from the mountains and other hidden areas will oust the President from power, and the game will be over.

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Figure 6 “Viva Tropico” is a mission (From Tropico 3) in which El Presidente will have to prove his ability to ease the tensions between the immigrants and the Nationalist faction of the Island.

The previous description of one of the paths players could follow during a playing session may suggest that the designers of Tropico have linked the adoption of an “open borders policy” to an increased likelihood of a positive outcome in the game. But that is not necessarily the case. Only during missions in which the President needs to rebuild the Island – after a political or environmental disaster has occurred – and he starts his mission with just a few citizens, his advisers will encourage the adoption of an open borders policy to repopulate the Island quickly and bring the economy up to speed. But in most scenarios, to succeed in his mission the player will need to strike the right balance between promoting adequate population growth through foreign immigration, and keeping his native population happy through policies that will be beneficial to them mostly. Failure to do so will most likely result in constant challenges to his ruling by the nationalists and other factions; or it could even have a negative economic impact by contributing to overpopulation, high unemployment rates, or the proliferation of shacks built by the newcomers.

After playing several missions and trying different paths to complete a campaign, players realize that the world of Tropico is neither in favor nor against any particular view on immigration policy. Except for a few general principles, such as the idea that an expanding economy cannot rely solely on natural population growth to satisfy labor demands or that an unregulated immigration system can threaten social and economic stability, outcomes in the game are not tightly linked to the adoption of a specific immigration policy. In some situations, closing the borders could be the best way to achieve a specific political or economic goal; while in other situations doing the opposite might be the best solution. Everything depends on many variables that are connected to other socio-economic areas, such as the size of the population, the amount of construction projects that are in course, the high or low demand of labor to complete these projects, the need of low- or high-skilled workers and so forth. It is this ability to show, in a procedural way, the interconnectedness of immigration policy to other social and economic areas what makes Tropico a particularly effective game at approaching this issue.

In 2013, another game was released with a focus on the issue of immigration. Papers, Please, an indie game developed by Lucas Pope, drew enough attention upon its release to be included among the finalists for a Spike Video Game Award in the category of “Best Independent Game” of the year. Set at a border checkpoint in the fictional country of Arstotzka, Papers, Please documents the everyday life of an immigration officer, who must decide who should be admitted and who should be denied to enter the country, based on an increasingly complicated body of immigration policies, rules, and protocols that his superiors constantly set and modify as the game progresses. The goal of the player is to make ends meet at the end of every day, by making enough money to be able to provide food, heat and medicine for his family. The player’s earnings are in relation to the amount of individuals he manages to process, without making any mistake, at the immigration checkpoint. His supervisors will micromanage every decision he makes, issuing warnings or penalties whenever there is a breach of protocol that results in an individual being rejected or admitted wrongfully into the country. A person wrongfully admitted could result in a terrorist attack or contribute to the smuggling of illegal goods across the border.

The game also presents players with difficult moral decisions, such as accepting bribes from potential terrorists and criminals trying to enter the country with fake documents, as a way to pay for the medicines his sick son or wife so desperately need. In another situation, the player will have to decide whether he will allow a known sexual trafficker to enter the country, putting in risk the life of a woman he has just interviewed and admitted who is allegedly being exploited by this man. If the player rejects this individual, whose papers are otherwise in perfect order, he will receive a warning or penalty from his superiors; which could result in a reduction of his salary and the inability to cover his most basic expenses, such as rent, food, or basic healthcare. If he decides to let him in, he will learn later in the game, while reading the local newspaper, that the woman who asked him for help was found dead at a local strip club. Similar situations, with difficult ethical implications, will re-emerge during the game, putting the player in the uncomfortable position of having to decide other people’s destinies, from individuals who are being politically persecuted in neighboring countries to members of a family who are just trying to stay together while fleeing from a variety of threats, or attempting to cross the border to reunite again.

While Tropico approaches the issue of immigration from the perspective of the higher power in charge of setting the rules, Papers, please introduces us – very effectively – to the world of the lower power responsible for implementing such policies. In doing so, both games complement each other very well, and emerge probably as the two best simulations on this topic the videogame industry has produced to date[8].

Moving beyond the serious games theoretical framework

In April 2011, an article published in FoxNews.com documented one of the initiatives recently undertaken by the Department of Homeland Security, aimed at leveraging the potential of video game technology to increase border security at the US-Mexico border (McCarter 2011). The article referred to a 1.6 million investment made by the DHS to fund the acquisition of three prototype simulators developed by companies such as Breakaway Ltd., Metron Inc., and Sandia National Laboratory. The purpose of this initiative was to provide border enforcement authorities with virtual models that could help them identify ways to allocate their resources more effectively, “and work out questions like how much fence and what kind of fence is needed or how sensors, vehicles and other technical equipment can best be used” (McCarter 2011). One of the simulators, developed at the Sandia National Laboratory (the Sandia Borders High Level Model or BHLM), provides users with a touch surface table in which they can monitor movements across the border, both from incoming border-crossers and CBP officers responding to these incidents. “Users can also view a leaderboard of sorts that shows how many suspects have been apprehended, the dollar amount spent implementing the chosen architecture and other metrics that matter to CBP decision-makers” (Redorbit 2011). According to Jason Reinhardt, the Sandia project manager in charge of overseeing the development of the BHLM, they saw in this initiative by the DHS an opportunity to use gaming platforms previously developed at Sandia (such as their force-on-force engagement modeling technology, Dante, and their serious gaming technology, Ground Truth) to design a “high fidelity simulation and analysis tool” that could help policy makers, both at the local level and in Washington, to evaluate the infrastructure and human resources needs at the US-Mexico border (Sandia National Laboratories 2011).

The reference to serious gaming technology by Reinhardt highlights one of the theoretical frameworks currently used to discuss the impact of videogames beyond the scope of the entertainment industry. The abundance of recently published research on this topic (Michael, Chen, & Chen 2006, Davidson 2008, Ritterfeld, Cody, & Vorderer 2009, Aldrich 2009, Ma, Oikonomou & Jain 2011, Ma, Oliveira & Hauge 2014) shows the success of Clark Abt early definition of “serious games” as a particular type of game that has “an explicit and carefully thought-out educational purpose and [is] not intended to be played primarily for amusement” (Abt 1970, p.9). But there is a danger associated with this idea that only games produced explicitly for training or educational purposes deserve to be taken “seriously.” From the examples discussed in this article only the Sandia Borders High Level Model commissioned by the DHS, and the other games produced to support explicit political agendas (Rimbalza il clandestino, ICED! and Rescate: Alicia Croft) fall clearly in the category of “serious games.” Neither the blockbuster Tropico nor the indie production Papers, please can be considered as games whose capacity to entertain has been diminished in order to emphasize or enhance their educational powers. As political sims go, Tropico is as entertaining and engaging as it gets. But entertaining should not be confused with lacking substance or being unable to influence the user’s opinions regarding the different topics presented throughout the game.

As Clark Aldrich has pointed out: “most examples of serious games are neither very serious nor very good games” (Aldrich 2009, p.33); to which we could add that most examples of commercial games should be taken more seriously than users and scholars from outside the field of Game Studies currently do[9]. When compared to a commercial game like Tropico, a “serious game” like ICED! reveals some of the limitations of this theoretical framework to approach the growing impact of videogames on Culture and Society. The scope of influence of Tropico, both in terms of the number of users who have played the game during very long gaming sessions, and in terms of the effectiveness of the game to present its content, clearly dwarfs what ICED! producers have been able to accomplish in this regard, despite the fact that their explicit intention was to develop a game with more unequivocal educational purposes. A number of elements in ICED! – from its explicit political agenda, which is likely to displease users who don’t share already the game’s ideology, to its dull gameplay – contribute to reduce considerably the potential impact this game could have on gamers from a broader political spectrum, including those who don’t play games with the intended purpose of “learning something.”  Tropico, on the other hand, by creating a more engaging simulation, showing a better use of the principles of procedural rhetoric, resorting to dark humor and parody to mask the more serious ideological content encoded in gameplay, as well as by porting the game to most available platforms in the market (PC, Mac, Xbox 360), has been able to create a portrayal of Latin American societies that will live longer and sink deeper on players’ minds.

To this we should add that serious game theory hasn’t been particularly successful at explaining why we should set apart a group of games from commercial games, based solely on its allegedly graver content. It is not clear what makes serious games structurally or expressively different from commercial ones. By the same token, it is not clear why commercial games, produced primarily for entertainment, could not have a serious influence, in either positive or detrimental ways, in gamers’ minds. In some sectors of the videogame industry, the distinction between educational and entertaining is becoming increasingly blurry. While a music simulation game like Guitar Hero (2005) promised players an opportunity to experience how it feels to be a guitar virtuoso by mastering a guitar-shaped controller in ways that were not transferable to real-life playing skills, more recent releases within this genre, such as Harmonix’s Rock Band 3 (2010) and Ubisoft’s Rocksmith (2011-2014), have finally managed to turn long gaming sessions into an opportunity to actually learn how to play an instrument. This promising convergence of entertaining and educational content that can be already enjoyed in the case of some music and rhythm games sets a standard (a very high one, I admit) for game developers working with other issues or content areas, including those whose focus is on producing games for a better world.

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Motomura, Hiroshi. (2014) Immigration outside the law. New York: Oxford University Press.

Pasqua, M. (2009, Aug 23). Utenti contro “rimbalza il clandestino”. Facebook cancella ilgioco leghista . La Repubblica.it. Retrieved from: http://www.repubblica.it/2009/08/sezioni/cronaca/immigrati-10/gioco-chiuso/gioco-chiuso.html

Penix-Tadsen, P. (2013). Latin American ludology: why we should take video games seriously (and when we shouldn’t). Latin American Research Review, 48 (1), 174-190.

Redorbit (2011, April 5). Gaming, simulation tools merged to create models for border Security. Redorbit. Retrieved from http://www.redorbit.com/news/technology/2024448/gaming_simulation_tools_merged_to_create_models_for_border_security/

Ritterfeld, U., Cody, M. J., & Vorderer, P. (2009). Serious games: mechanisms and effects. New York: Routledge.

Sandia National Laboratories (2011). Sandia headlines now: Borders High Level Model [Video file]. Retrieved from: http://digitalops.sandia.gov/Mediasite/Play/aa11383f31b54226b72e3883470090d01d?catalog=7402e84d-48e4-467e-813c-0ecd42ca3d08

Sicart, Miguel. (2011) Against procedurality. Game Studies, 11 (3). Retrieved from: http://gamestudies.org/1103/articles/sicart_ap

Silverstein, J. (2006, May 01). Racist video game incites anger. ABC News. Retrieved from: http://abcnews.go.com/Technology/story?id=1910119

Slocum-Bradley, N. (2008). The positioning diamond: Conceptualizing identity constructions at the US-Mexico border. In N. Slocum-Bradley (Ed.), Promoting conflict or peace through identity (103-138). Burlington: Ashgate Publishing Company.

10News. (2006, April 20). Video game kills immigrants, pregnant women. 10News. Retrieved from http://www.10news.com/news/video-game-kills-immigrants-        pregnant-women

Voorhees, Gerald. The Character of Difference: Procedurality, Rhetoric, and            Roleplaying Games. Game Studies, 9 (2). Retrieved from: http://gamestudies.org/0902/articles/voorhees

Games Cited

  1. Breakthrough (2008). ICED! Breakthrough: New York (PC, Mac). Retrieved from: http://www.icedgame.com
  2. Breakthrough (2008). Homeland Guantanamos. Breakthrough: New York (Web-based). Retrieved from: http://www.homelandgitmo.com
  3. Border patrol [Web]. (2006). Retrieved from: http://nerdnirvana.org/g4m3s/borderpatrol.htm
  4. Gathering of Developers (2001) Tropico. Gathering of Developers: Texas (PC)
  5. Gathering of Developers (2003) Tropico 2: Pirate Cove. Gathering of Developers: Texas (PC, Mac)
  6. Feral Interactive (2012) Tropico 3. Feral Interactive: London (Mac)
  7. Kalypso Media (2009) Tropico 3. Kalypso Media: Worms, Germany (PC, Xbox 360)
  8. Kalypso Media (2011) Tropico 3. Kalypso Media: Worms, Germany (PC, Xbox 360)
  9. Lucas Pope (2013) Papers, Please. Lucas Pope (PC, Mac)
  10. P.P Catalán. (2010). Rescate: Alicia Croft [Web]. Retrieved from: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y1DiddFeX-A

Biographical Statement

Osvaldo Cleger Osvaldo Cleger is an assistant professor in the School of Modern Languages at the Georgia Institute of Technology, with a doctorate from University of Arizona. His research focuses on the impact that recent technological developments have on the literary field. His most recent book, Narrar en la era de las blogoficciones:  literatura, cultura y sociedad de las redes en el siglo XXI (2010) offers a systematic approach to blog-narratives written by Hispanic authors. He is also co-editor of the volume Redes hipertextuales en el aula (Octaedro 2015).

Contact: ocleger3@mail.gatech.edu

Website: http://www.modlangs.gatech.edu/faculty/osvaldo-cleger


[1] Some of the words most commonly used to describe the game are “violent,” “vicious,” “mentally sick” (Slocum-Bradley 2008), dehumanizing (10News 2006), hate video game (Ituarte 2009), promoter of white supremacist views (Daniels and LaLone 2012) and distasteful (10News 2006).

[2] To gain an insider’s perspective on how the immigration system works see Zimmer 2013.

[3] An example of this is the Cuban Adjustment Act, passed by the US Congress in 1966 in response to Cuba becoming a mayor player in the Cold War. Under this law, Cuban citizens are eligible to obtain a green card after “they have been present in the United States for at least 1 year” or right after “they have been admitted or paroled.” The alleged purpose of this law was to contribute to the weakening of Castro’s regime; but even after the Cold War had ended, the Cuban Adjustment Act still remained in effect; and it’s still in place today despite the fact that both countries are currently moving towards normalizing diplomatic relations. More on the Cuban Adjustment Act in US Citizen and Immigration Services and Anderson (2010).

[4] For a very well documented discussion of how different criteria has been applied throughout history by the US immigration system to justify the exclusion of those prospective immigrants perceived as “undesirable” see Hing 2004.

[5] For a discussion on how discretion is used exceptionally (and excessively) in the field of immigration law see Koulish 2010.

[6] As those readers familiar with the literature on procedurality will notice, my purpose in this article is not to engage in the ongoing discussion about the virtues (Bogost 2007, Voorhees 2009), and flaws (Sicart 2011) present in the procedural approach to game studies. Coming myself from the field of literary and cultural studies, I consider current research on procedural rhetoric very instrumental in helping us better understand how videogames operate and impact our culture. For a discussion of some of the flaws and limitations attributed to this model see Sicart (2011).

[7] After the introduction of the DREAM ACT (or the Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors Act) in the US Senate (2001), those undocumented residents who would be eligible to adjust their status if this law was ever adopted came to be known as “dreamers” in US media channels.

[8] Papers, please also serves to illustrate that effective procedural expression is not necessarily constraint by budgetary limitations. While it could be argued that it’s unfair to compare a big-budget production, such as Tropico, to an indie game, such as ICED!, Papers, please proves that a low-budget game can still be effective at mounting a procedural argument by relying minimally on those aspects that could increase the production cost of the game (such as the use of high-end visuals, 3D graphics or complex animations and physics) and putting the emphasis on representing real-life processes in a more evocative way, while leaving the player at liberty to decide how he/she wants to experience those processes, as well as what conclusions should be drawn from them.

[9] For a discussion of this topic as it relates to Latin American Cultural Studies see Penix-Tadsen (2013).

Toija Cinque & Adam Brown

Published Online: March 1, 2015

Full Text: HTML, PDF

Abstract: This article investigates the use of screen media and digital competencies of higher education students in light of the growing focus on new media and e-learning in Australian universities. The authors argue that there is a need to resist the commonplace utopian and dystopian discourses surrounding new media technological innovation, and approach the issue of its potential roles and limitations in higher education settings with due care. The article analyses survey data collected from first-year university students to consider what screen media they currently make use of, how frequently these media are interacted with, and in what settings and for what purposes they are used. The article considers what implications the digital practices and competencies of young adults have for pedagogical programs that aim to engage them in virtual environments.

Keywords: Screen media, new media, digital competencies, higher education

Introduction

This article responds to the need to interrogate assumptions around, and the realities of, the perceptions and uses of new media screen culture by students in higher education. The question of how and to what degree university institutions and teachers need to alter existing practices in light of ongoing changes in the local and global communications environments is a major issue in Australia (and elsewhere). While we do not intend to posit any solutions to such a large and complex issue here, we aim to contribute to this debate by examining the pivotal issue of how young people are actually using screen media – an issue that often seems to be overshadowed in the enthusiastic, if not hasty, conclusion that students and education will ‘never be the same again.’ With these developments in mind, we examine current first-year university student competencies, perceptions and interests in terms of contemporary (particularly online) screen culture and the implications of this for the growing use of new media in teaching.

The present article’s overarching research question investigating the perceptions and uses of new media by first-year undergraduate students can be dissected into the following sub-sets of issues for enquiry: Have Australian students proven to be early adopters in the active creation and dissemination of digital content on vlogs (video log or video diary entry via YouTube for example) personal webpages or wikis? What digital competencies do current higher education students possess in relation to new media? What does current student engagement with new media innovation reveal about their interest in, and perceptions of, digital screen culture? And lastly, what implications does this have for the adoption of new media technologies for use in university settings? In exploring the debate over how new media innovation should be applied in and outside the classroom, we hope that this research will accomplish two things: 1) improve teaching knowledge and practice in the uses of social media and other devices for educational purposes; and 2) highlight areas of? further research in student use of communications technologies and digital competencies. Results from a survey of almost four hundred first-year university students reveal significant, and often surprising, trends in how young people understand and use new media in the present day.

Literature review

University students have similar goals to youth through the ages: the desire to express their ideas and individuality and to shape their identities, to create authentic cultural forms, to be taken seriously and to entertain themselves, to prepare for and ultimately engage in interesting post-university work. The ventures and media through which these goals, and liberal education itself, are pursued have certainly evolved. (Axelrod 2002, p. 141)

The considerable literature concerned with the role(s) of new media in tertiary education constitutes an industry in itself. The passage above from Axelrod’s study, Values in Conflict: The University, the Marketplace, and the Trials of Liberal Education, makes a key assumption common to numerous other studies in the extensive scholarship of (e-)teaching, an assumption that provides the impetus for this article. Emphasising the importance of teachers developing an understanding of the culture, values and expectations of contemporary students, and pointing to the necessity of new media having a place in the university environment, Axelrod writes that ‘[r]ather than belittling the interests of those who occupy their classrooms, professors should aim to know their students and whence they have come’ (2002, p. 142). While we share the crucial sentiment that teachers must know their students, Axelrod’s statement already presupposes what precisely students’ interests and expectations are: that classroom populations hail from a tech-savvy ‘generation’ more interested in the virtual world and eager for their years of formal education to be permeated with information derived from, and produced through, social networks and virtual media. It is this assumption that we aim to investigate and critique.

Just as there are many (and often opposing) discourses in the mass media about the increasingly mediated nature of present day society, different ideas about new communications technologies – from the utopian to the dystopian – can be found in writings on the tertiary sector. At one end of the spectrum, David Noble (1998) condemns teaching with and through the Internet, arguing that such activities have given rise to what he calls ‘digital diploma mills,’ which constitute the latest form of ‘commoditisation’ in his dystopian view of the ‘automation’ of higher education. On the other hand, Jones and Issroff (2007, pp. 190-91) highlight a considerable literature that stresses the high motivational value of e-learning technologies in combating problems with student demotivation. A number of studies prioritise the ‘extraordinary’ or ‘transformational’ changes that technology is perceived to enable (Richardson 2010, p. 2), but do not consider the potential limits of this technology and the limitations of introducing it into (or out of) the classroom. The recent collection, Cutting-Edge Social Media Approaches to Business Education: Teaching with LinkedIn, Facebook, Twitter, Second Life, and Blogs (Wankel 2010), comprises one among many studies in which potential pedagogical obstacles and issues of student access and digital competencies are either marginalised or omitted entirely.

Noting that the vast majority of popular and academic opinion constructs an essentially optimistic vision of ‘the life-changing power of digital technology,’ Selwyn (2011, pp. 21, 31) contends in one of the latest studies in the area that ‘we should not be seduced by promises of digital technology changing everything for the better. Questions about the future of education are far too important to be left to a blind faith in the “power” of technology.’ We seek here not to build a case for either perspective on the place of new media in tertiary education, but to stress the need to understand competing discourses around new media in order to attend more fully to the key issues revolving around the perception and use of new media by students. Reflecting on the prevalent adoption of e-learning through Moodle (‘Modular Object-Oriented Dynamic Learning Environment’) in Australian high schools over a number of years, the increased emphasis on social media engagement, and the ‘building’ of entire virtual university campuses through Second Life, Brown writes of the importance of interrogating what premises such developments are ‘founded on and what kind of implications this might have… for student learning’ (2011, pp. 173-74).

Recent research from Canada has addressed the importance of questioning widespread assumptions about young people and their use of new media. Bulleen et al. (2011) critique the often uncritical use of the concept of ‘generation,’ which is frequently employed as a means of explaining and rationalising the use of information and communication technologies (ICTs) in higher education. Arguing that ‘[t]he idea that the generation born after 1982 is fundamentally different than [sic] previous generations has become so firmly entrenched that it is treated as a self-evident truth,’ Bulleen et al. undertake a review of academic and popular literature and an empirical analysis of the interests and activities of university students. The study’s results suggest that students actually used a ‘limited set’ of ICTs, with their use being driven by familiarity, cost, and immediacy, rather than a process of enthusiastic and active adoption/application. Significantly, Bulleen et al. point out that the common claims around a substantially ‘different’ population of students, whose needs and desires are drastically different from all those preceding them, ‘have potentially significant and costly implications for educational institutions… as they are being urged to make significant changes to how they are organized, how they teach, and how learning technologies should be used’ (Bulleen et al. 2011).

However, it is certainly the case that contemporary teenagers and young adults in the so-called Western world have grown up in what Ohler (2010, p.170) describes as the natural, human and digital ‘ecosystems’ – which undoubtedly has important (and often positive) implications for everyday life. We argue here that new media technologies such as the Internet afford different expectations in terms of choice, access, affordability, and functionality. Some key aspects of new media technologies that are important include: (1) the technical capacity of the medium; (2) that internet content is more than mere electronic publishing and broadcasting; and (3) a sense of the diverse global audience (Cinque, 2011:144-145).Our use of the phrase ‘Generation Next’ is underpinned by an acknowledgement that the diversity of student experience must always be kept in mind. In this new media age, a reasonable question has arisen about whether or not it is possible to reconfigure the relationship between teacher and student on more equal terms. New media differs from traditional media forms in that old media is one-way while new media offers many-to-many information sharing and co-creative possibilities. This has meant that what we do with media has changed and with it our needs and expectations. As a result, young people raised with access to such technologies have developed different expectations of their media (choice, access, affordability, functionality) and they have expectations that other aspects of their lives, including their educational institutions, will offer the same. Meeting students’ needs is an ongoing challenge for educators in this ‘new media age.’

Further, due to the fact that scholarship exploring young adults’ understanding and use of communications technologies predominantly stems from research in the United States, it is important to examine whether trends identified in this context are the same as, or different from, those exhibited in Australia. Focusing on the new media practices of Australian students, Kennedy et al. discovered in a 2007 study that while they are heavy users of mobile phones, text messaging and emails, they are not readily classifiable as active participants. Following on from this, our objective is to investigate whether Australian students (in this context, first year university undergraduates) have since become early adopters in the active creation and dissemination of digital content for creating vlogs (video log or video diary entry accessible via YouTube for example) or wikis, for instance, or whether they remain ‘passive’ users (if, indeed, they are users at all) of social networking platforms such as Facebook. This preliminary study seeks to investigate whether or not the trend in Australia has changed in the years since Kennedy et al.’s (2007) work in order to encourage finding a way of stimulating learning that is usefully assimilated, but also enjoyed, by both the Net-Generation and the upcoming Generation Next.

The intersection of new media and assessment has also been the subject of much discussion in the scholarship of teaching. Stressing the benefits of e-assessment, Sclater et al. (2007, p. 155) note that online evaluations of learner understanding can provide richer forms of student interactivity and greater consistency in the marking process. While a number of studies explore the strategies, practices and challenges of online assessment (Palloff and Pratt 2009; Williams 2006; Hricko 2006; Howell 2005), limited attention is given to student backgrounds, perceptions and preferences. The benefits of investigating student perspectives on, and their use of, new media are further highlighted when one takes into account Brosnan’s (1999) findings that computer-assisted learning and evaluation disadvantages specific groups of students who suffer from ‘computer anxiety.’ As Swierczek and Bechter (2010, pp. 791-92) emphasise, ‘e-Learning neither eliminates cultural differences nor is it culture free,’ resulting in situations that can lead to ‘digital gaps.’ Therefore, an investigation of trends in the use or otherwise of digital screen culture by young people is important to situate the issue of e-assessment (which is, nonetheless, invariably introduced for its cost-effectiveness in delivering courses to increasingly large cohorts rather than pedagogical considerations), in its fuller context.

This issue points to the crucial importance of being aware of students’ digital competencies, which can readily be connected to the previous discussion of what discourses are used to understand technology and its use, both in teaching scholarship and more broadly. Indeed, digital competencies in relation to children and young teenagers is a growing field of research, expanding the notion of a ‘digital divide’ to encompass more than a group’s socio-economic context alone, to include issues of education and digital literacy (Carlsson 2010; Cole and Pullen 2010; Carlsson et al. 2007). Roberts (2010, p. 94) points to the rhetorical construction of ‘digital natives’ as possessing the characteristics of, among others, being ‘tech savvy,’ ‘multi-taskers,’ ‘information rich,’ and ‘connected.’ It is already apparent that generalisations along these lines must be examined with a critical eye, which this article seeks to accomplish. In order to examine new media perception and use in a nuanced manner, the need to resist and critique the ‘prominence of [the] utopian-dystopian controversy’ (Dutton and Loader 2002, p. 20), and understand the complexities of the issues involved, remains.

In his discussion of guiding principles for innovations in online education, Dutton (2002, p. 329) stresses ‘the crucial role of social, economic and political factors in shaping the design and outcomes of technical and institutional changes tied to the deployment of ICT capabilities in higher education and learning.’ This is an important point. While individual academics and discipline teams always have a measure of flexibility in the adoption and deployment of new media in and outside the classroom, there are a number of other influential factors – internal and external to the university – that impact on how courses are designed and offered to students. The timing of the current research project is fortuitous for several reasons. Not only does the incremental establishment of (and the construction of discourses around) the National Broadband Network impact on the issue of digital screen culture for Australian universities and society in general, there are also several more ‘local’ factors that need to be taken into account for specific institutions. This is particularly the case in relation to the tertiary education sector, which is currently undergoing major ideological shifts in its approach to the issue of e-learning and ‘the Cloud.’

The researchers of this project have taught at the tertiary level for several years. Throughout our experiences with both undergraduate and postgraduate student cohorts, we have found that far from validating expectations or assumptions that all or even most students are passionate about the use of new media in educational and other settings, they are often unaware of many technological developments, uninterested in their use, and/or highly judgemental (in a negative sense) of those who do use them. Therefore, one hurdle that must be overcome by teachers who desire for their students to learn about – much less use – new media in educational settings is the need to gauge and understand student attitudes towards technology. Indeed, while utopian views of new media innovation are often expressed by institutions keen to adopt the latest innovations for e-learning, many students exhibit a dystopian perspective of new media, thus pointing to an apparent rift that does not conform to (stereotypical) assumptions about the interests, desires and capabilities of ‘Generation Next.’

The significance of the present research is borne out in recent developments both internal and external to the higher education landscape. University-wide curriculum review initiatives are promising a fundamental drive towards a new paradigm regarding how universities engage with their students. Heavy emphasis is directed toward programs around the adoption of Cloud Learning and new media generally. Further recent internal developments at one Melbourne university have seen a growing emphasis on the use of new media for teaching with internal administrative initiatives towards online marking. Arguably there remain important questions that need to be addressed in relation to student preferences and competencies. New media-based initiatives such as a move to e-assessment are invariably premised on the twin assumptions that 1) students prefer to work with interactive devices in the virtual world; and 2) students are competent in their use.

A 2009 report titled Perspectives on the Future of Flexible Education raises a number of issues pertinent to the research presented here. Investigating the perspectives and experiences of thirty-two Melbourne university educators via interviews, along with those of ten students in focus group sessions, the report found that student participants preferred face-to-face teaching over online learning as it motivated (or ‘forced’) them to stay up to date with topics of discussion. On the other hand, the small number of student participants reported that they were easily distracted when engaging with unit material in the online environment. Students’ digital competencies were also a matter of interest to the study, with one academic commenting that ‘[t]here’s been the presumption that young people are digital natives but the repertoire of their skills is quite narrow’ (Institute for Teaching and Learning, 2009, p. 60). The report concluded that:

students were happy to use the basic functions of DSO [online learning] but needed guidance and assistance to learn from tools such as Facebook and YouTube despite regularly using them for socialising…  facilitating the adoption of flexible education also calls for strong support in several areas. Access to technology needs to be considered carefully rather than be taken for granted. Both students’ access and ability to use the technology and staff capabilities must be recognised… While ongoing support is vital, embedding new forms of technology would call for support structures that are reliable and responsive to needs. Quality support is critical to success. (2009, pp. 60 & 69)

With ambitious plans to establish a Cloud Learning Environment at the core of higher education’s pedagogical future, a number of issues need to be analysed and critiqued in order to fully appreciate the dynamic nature of higher education not only from the perspective of teachers and technology developers, but from the group that developments in e-learning are primarily directed towards: the students. The following analysis of student screen media use and digital competencies seeks to address several of the issues outlined in the ITL 2009 report in order to gauge what implications student perceptions and uses of new media have for ongoing shifts in higher education more broadly.

Research methodology

This article examines current undergraduate university student competencies, perceptions and interests in terms of contemporary (particularly online) screen culture and the implications of this for the growing use of new media in teaching. Primary data was collected using the survey entitled New Media: Perceptions and Use Survey Questions developed for this research by the authors of this current work. Convenience samples comprising a total of 367 completed surveys from university students in Melbourne and Geelong studying first-year units were taken in Trimester 2, 2011, and Trimester 1, 2012, respectively. The participants comprised 367 undergraduate university students. There were 104 males and 263 females with a mean age of 18 years. Some 43 different Majors were recorded with most students coming from Media and Communication (85 cases); Public Relations (48 cases); and Education (23 cases).

Results

Data collated from the survey’s preliminary questions highlighted that 72 per cent of participants were female and 28 per cent male. Ages of the participant group, which included several mature age students, ranged from 17 to 55 years old, with 89 per cent falling into the 18-23 years old bracket. 86 per cent of participants who completed the survey reported that they were enrolled in their first-year of university study. Reflecting the diverse cohort of the first-year students sampled, a total of 45 per cent of participants surveyed were undertaking at least one major in a Communications-related discipline (Media and Communication, Public Relations, and/or Journalism) as part of their undergraduate studies. Some 15 per cent of participants, many of whom had just begun their degrees, were still undecided on the focus of their studies. The diverse range of participants highlights that the results of this research can be seen as representative of a broader student cohort than only those mainly interested in fields such as Media and Communication Studies. This is significant given that it is the often Media and Communication students who are perceived to be more interested in contemporary screen culture and new media technological innovation.

The mean results for each question requiring a quantitative response from students are summarised in Table 1 below:

Table 1. Mean results for each survey question requiring a quantitative response

Survey question Mean

(hours per day)

How many hours do you spend on average per day watching television via a television set? 1.96
How many hours do you spend on average per day do you spend watching the television set for education? 0.48
How many hours do you spend on average per day do you spend watching television for information? 0.67
How many hours do you spend on average per day for recreation/entertainment? 1.69
How many hours do you spend per day using the internet? 4.20
How many hours do you spend on average per day watching/catching up on television shows using the internet rather than the TV set? 1.02
How many hours do you spend on average per day using the internet for work related activities (from which you derive income)? 0.53
How many hours do you spend on average per day using the internet for study related activities? 1.96
How many hours do you spend on average per day using the internet for recreation/entertainment related activities? 2.69

Figures 1-9 below provide a more detailed representation of findings from the survey regarding students’ use of present day television and online screen culture in different settings and for different purposes. Complementing these questions were further questions seeking qualitative data. These questions focused on the various types of websites visited and software applications used by students as part of their online activities in the following categories: 1) Internet use for everyday purposes; 2) Internet use for work-related purposes; 3) Internet use for study-related purposes; and 4) Internet use for recreational/entertainment purposes. The questions were phrased broadly in order to avoid leading participants to take a particular ‘approach’ to the question.  As a result, a comprehensive account of the highly diverse answers provided to these questions cannot be depicted here in either verbal or visual form; nonetheless, we reflect in part on these responses in the following analysis.

Figures 1-4 below focus on how much, and for what purposes, students watch television via television sets (as opposed to online viewing of television programs).

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Figure 1. How many hours do you spend on average per day watching television via a television set?

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Figure 2. How many hours do you spend on average per day do you spend watching the television set for education?

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Figure 3. How many hours do you spend on average per day do you spend watching television for information?

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Figure 4. How many hours do you spend on average per day for recreation/entertainment?

It is evident from these graphs that television is, for the most part, viewed daily by students, with only 8 per cent of respondents reporting zero average daily use. On the other hand, the proportion of participants who reported no television use for the purposes of education (49 per cent) and information (25 per cent) was considerably higher, reflecting the predominant use of television for recreational or entertainment purposes. Figure 3 shows that between .5 and 1 hour per day are generally spent watching television for information (which may involve, for example, news, documentary or current affairs programs). This is in contrast to the 1 to 3 hours reported television viewing for recreation purposes. Most importantly, the above graphs provide useful contrasts with Figures 5-9 below, which focus on the amount and nature of daily internet usage by students. Of consequence is the two to five hours per day spent using the internet reported by most participants (67 per cent) – although an even larger amount of online activity was reported by a significant number of students also (see Figure 5 below).

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Figure 5. How many hours do you spend per day using the internet?

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Figure 6. How many hours do you spend on average per day watching/catching up on television shows using the internet rather than the TV set?

The mean results of the survey, as revealed in Table 1, appear to support the commonplace hypothesis that internet use is fast replacing television viewing as a recreational past-time and even as a source of information. In the vast majority of cases, the internet is not directly ‘taking over’ as the means by which students are always viewing television programs (i.e. instead of using the television set); nonetheless, the 37 per cent of students who do watch television programs online is important to note. The average (mean) result of just below two hours of everyday television viewing is arguably well below what have generally been (stereo)typical assumptions regarding young people’s engagement with the television set. On the other hand, one potentiality that cannot be discounted is that subjects might have the television on while using the internet, and investigation into the extent to which this occurs is warranted in future research.

In parallel with the former questions regarding how much television is viewed by students for specific purposes, Figures 7-9and Tables 2 and 3 below highlight the numbers of hours reported in relation to internet use for work, study, and entertainment.

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Figure 7. How many hours do you spend on average per day using the internet for work related activities (from which you derive income)?

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Figure 8. How many hours do you spend on average per day using the internet for study related activities?

As outlined below, a total of 71 different responses were provided to the question of ‘which websites are used for study-related purposes’; only two respondents reported that this question was not applicable to them. A diverse range of social networking and news sites were reported by a small number of students, with the most prevalent sites reported summarised in the following Table 2:

Table 2. Most common responses to which websites are accessed by students for the purposes of study

Most common responses to which websites are accessed by students for the purposes of study (over 15 responses) Count

(out of 367)

Google 152
Google Scholar 28
Wikipedia 25
Electronic databases 17

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Figure 9. How many hours do you spend on average per day using the internet for recreation/ entertainment related activities?

Comparing the mean scores obtained in relation to hours of online activity at work (.53) and online activity for study purposes (1.96) with the use of the internet for recreational or entertainment (2.69) reveals a considerable increase in the latter (Table 3 below). Only two students reported that they did not use the internet for recreation purposes. Again, a diverse range of (133) websites were reported, with the most prevalent examples being summarised in Table 3 below:

Table 3. Most common websites accessed by students for the purposes of recreation/entertainment.

Most common websites accessed by students for the purposes of recreation/entertainment (responses with over 15 responses) Count

(out of 367)

Facebook 254
YouTube 121
Tumblr 39
Twitter 31
Hotmail 21
Google 17
Blogs 16

The relative lack of engagement with blogs, Twitter and Tumblr highlights the importance of understanding what uses of new media contemporary university students are making of new media innovation outside the classroom. In addition, it is not clear from this survey how many students are actively using these applications by creating their own content as opposed to being passive ‘lurkers.’

Discussion

While Figure 6 above reveals that the number of students who do not view television programs online via websites such as ABC’s iView or torrent sites is relatively large (40 per cent), internet usage clearly has become a more prominent medium for young students than television in contemporary times (see Figure 5). As with the participants’ reported viewing of television (between 1 and 1.5 hours per day on average), the use of the internet for recreational or entertainment purposes far outweighed the online activities relating to study and work from which students derive income. Given the far greater rates of internet usage at between 2 and 5 hours per day on average (as opposed to television viewing) overall, there was also a much greater diversity of responses regarding daily usage. However, the most significant findings of the survey are revealed in the intersections between this quantitative data and the qualitative data obtained from additional questions relating to what websites and applications students used for everyday internet activities, and specifically for the purposes work, study and recreation.

Crucial to exploring the predominance of internet activity reported by students over their use of television sets is an investigation of what uses students make of their time online. 140 different responses were given to the question of which websites were visited by students on an everyday basis, with only four of these answers noted by more than 50 participants, including Facebook (225), YouTube (108), and Google (66). While a comprehensive account of most, much less all, websites visited by participants was not – nor could be –expected from such a survey, the responses to such broad questions often suggest as much by what they do not say as what they do. Major aspects of everyday internet use that might have been expected to arise more frequently did not figure in the survey responses, such as internet banking (12 responses), eBay or other online shopping sites (24 responses), and various news sites (32 responses). Presumably, such online activities were practised by a far larger number of students; however, potentially due to the increasingly naturalised place of the virtual in everyday life, such activities take less priority over massively popular sites such as Google, which has itself become in many cases synonymous with ‘the internet.’

Significantly, 246 (67 per cent of) respondents reported that the question of how they use the internet in their (non-university) workplace was not applicable to them. Such responses might be attributed to the students either being employees in industries such as hospitality, shop retail, and so on, or to not being employed at the time of the survey. The majority of those participants who did report online activity as part of their paid work highlighted email, search engines, and various entertainment sites, which were not likely in the majority of instances to have been directly related to the students’ employment. Only twenty respondents (5 per cent) reported that they used intranets or websites specific to their workplace, although when this data is linked to the number of hours of online activity at work noted by these respondents, it is clear that using new media technology is seldom a crucial facet of their paid work. On the other hand, the survey results reveal that the internet is clearly a more prominent means for students to obtain information and conducting for their higher education studies.

While the exact nature of student access to Google or Wikipedia, for example, cannot be surmised, it is evident that the vast majority of students’ uses of new media are limited to certain activities. The reliance (or, in some educators’ minds, overreliance) on online search engines may be borne out in the responses of 41 per cent of participants who highlighted their use of Google, along with the 25 respondents who noted their use of Wikipedia (although this answer may have been minimised by student understandings of many teachers’ negative perceptions of the site). Significantly, this number is identical to the number of participants who mentioned electronic databases or e-journals as aspects of their online study. In terms of computer applications that were reported as used for study purposes, the only significantly reported examples were various email programs (reported 185 times), with Microsoft Word being reported 9 times as the second most cited application.

Conclusion

This present investigation supports the conclusions of the earlier Australian studies of ITL (2009) and Kennedy et al (2007) that internet use in the everyday life of Generation Next has increased with a number of (new media related) activities seeming to be ‘naturalised’ or newly embedded within the cultural practices of the sample, but that students are still not readily classifiable as active participants. As stressed earlier, a number of problematic assumptions are frequently made regarding student access and digital competencies by both scholars of e-learning and educational institutions that seek to ‘stay ahead of the game.’ Utopian discourses regarding the role and potential of new media must be balanced with a realistic assessment of their limitations, whether this be in terms of student access and capabilities, or simply their desire to undertake an increasingly prominent part of their studies online. Students’ clear reliance on material provided for them on university websites and straightforward (or ‘blind’) Google searches over the development of research skills via electronic databases and scholarly journals may also be suggestive of the trend of students ‘going online’ for faster and ‘easier’ options. Several participants who highlighted Google as a means by which students use the internet to study gave an indication of this through the particular wording of responses, including: (a)‘Start off with Google, then branch off’; (b) ‘Google to look for websites to study from’; or (c) ‘Whatever’s on Google’. An acknowledgement of the limitations of the survey data obtained for this project is crucial to this issue. The researchers found that a number of misunderstandings on the part of participants occurred as to what exactly constituted a website or an application, reinforcing the need to interrogate critically the assumptions made about the online activities and understandings of Generation Next.

Further sustained research is needed into higher education students’ engagement with contemporary digital screen culture. The perpetuation of utopian discourses in society regarding technological innovation as a democratising, transformative and ‘inevitable’ force, and the subsequent development of organisational policies and plans that arise from these, need to be grappled with – and not only in the educational sector. We have not sought in this article to resolve the immensely complex issue of how new media innovation should be adopted and adapted in (and outside of) the classroom, but to expose and explore the issues of how young people – those of ‘Generation Next’ – are currently engaging with contemporary screen culture. Thus, it is imperative that educators continue to develop the most comprehensive picture of new media perceptions and uses possible.

References

Axelrod, P. 2002, Values in Conflict: The University, the Marketplace, and the Trials of Liberal Education, McGill-Queen’s University Press, Montreal and Kingston.

Brosnan, M. 1999, ‘Computer Anxiety in Students: Should Computer-Based Assessment Be Used At All?’ in Brown, S., Race, P. and Bull, J. (eds.), Computer-Assisted Assessment in Higher Education, Kogan Page, London, pp. 47-54.

Brown, A. 2011, ‘Social Networking and Social Norms: “Be Nice or I’ll Delete You!”’ in Chalkley, T., Brown, A., Cinque, T., Warren, B., Hobbs, M. and Finn, M. 2011, Communication, New Media and Everyday Life, Oxford University Press, South Melbourne, pp. 165-75.

Bulleen, M., Morgan, T. and Qayyum, A. 2011, ‘Digital Learners in Higher Education: Generation is Not the Issue,’ Canadian Journal of Learning & Technology, vol. 37, no. 1, Spring.

Cinque, T. 2011, ‘Values, Ideals and Power in the Brave New Digital World’ in Chalkley, T., Brown, A., Cinque, T., Warren, B., Hobbs, M. and Finn, M. 2011, Communication, New Media and Everyday Life, Oxford University Press, South Melbourne, pp 137-146.

Dutton, W. H. and Loader, B. D. 2002, ‘Introduction: New Media and Institutions of Higher Education and Learning,’ in Dutton, W. H. and Loader, B. D. (eds.), Digital Academe: The New Media and Institutions of Higher Education and Learning, Routledge, London and New York, pp. 1-32.

Dutton, W. H. 2002, ‘Toward a Digital Academe: Guiding Principles for Innovations in Online Education,’ in Dutton, W. H. and Loader, B. D. (eds.), Digital Academe: The New Media and Institutions of Higher Education and Learning, Routledge, London and New York, pp. 328-35.

Howell, S. L. and Hricko, M. (eds.), 2005, Online Assessment and Measurement: Foundations and Challenges, Information Science Publishers, Hershey.

Hricko, M. and Howell, S. L. (eds.) 2006, Online Assessment and Measurement: Case Studies from Higher Education, K-12 and Corporate, Information Science Publishers, Hershey.

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Noble, D. 1998, ‘Digital Diploma Mills: The Automation of Higher Education,’ First Monday, vol. 3, no. 1.

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Biographical Statements

Toija Cinque is a Senior Lecturer in Media Studies at Deakin University, Australia. Cinque has written widely on various aspects of internet use and her most recent book is the co-authored workCommunication, New Media and Everyday Life (2012) by Oxford University Press. She is on the editorial Board for the journal New Scholar: An International Journal of the Humanities, Creative Arts and Social Sciences. Her teaching areas include communications institutions and industries, media texts and audiences, and the new media. Cinque’s main research interest lies in extending the limits of conventional media studies; exploring the intersections between social media, legacy media and communications with other studies in history, celebrity, statistics, privacy and surveillance, public policy, media law and economics. Toija Cinque’s forthcoming works include Changing Media Landscapes: Visual Networking and Communication, Digital Media and Everyday Life, both for Oxford University Press in 2015, and Enchanting David Bowie (co-authored with Christopher Moore and Sean Redmond) for Bloomsbury, forthcoming 2015

Contact: toija.cinque@deakin.edu.au

Adam Brown is a Senior Lecturer in Media Studies at Deakin University, Australia.

Contact: adam.brown@deakin.edu.au

Christopher S Walsh

Editorial

Published Online: December 15, 2014
Full Text: HTML, PDF

Editorial

Volume 6, Issue 4 celebrates 6 years since we first launched Digital Culture & Education (DCE), an output of a successful Australian Research Council (ARC) grant entitled ‘Literacy in the Digital World of the Twenty First Century: Learning from computer games’  (Beavis, C., Bradford, C., O’Mara J. and Walsh, C. S.).  It has been an amazing journey and we are undoubtedly continuing to grow with 2014 being the first year we have published four issues.  As a completely dedicated open-access educational journal, we are not only dependent upon our cadre of talented editorial boards members, but indebted to them for their on going pro bono work, support and dedication.

DCE’s success to date has been achieved through trust, collaboration and shared endeavours, particularly through special guest edited themed issues.  This year in collaboration with Tama Leaver and Michael Kent, we published ‘Facebook in Education: Lessons Learnt’   This special issue takes the tenth anniversary of Facebook as an opportunity to critically reflect on role of that platform in higher education, whilst simultaneously engaging with some of the larger questions about the place of education online, questions which pre-date the emergence of MOOCs by a significant number of years. Then working with the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID) and co-supported by the U.S. President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR), amfAR, the Foundation for AIDS Research, and the National Institutes of Mental Health (NIMH), DCE published ‘Innovative programmatic approaches to HIV prevention and care services for gay men, other men who have sex with men (MSM) and transgender persons using information and communication technology (ICT)’.  This special issue, edited by Darrin Adams, Kent Klindera, Christopher S. Walsh and R. Cameron Wolf, celebrates and shares the timely and crucial work of frontline workers, activists, researchers and educators working in the field of HIV prevention, testing, treatment and care. It is also the follow-up to an earlier special issue from 2012, ‘Prevention as a solution: Building the HIVe’.  Taken together, both guest edited issues offer relevant and applicable examples of digital technologies being leveraged, positioned and practiced towards community-based and led HIV prevention and care services in a digital era.

Thinking about the future trajectory of DCE, we are not only committed to remaining open access, but also equally committed to embracing an ethos of ‘slow citizenship’ over a trajectory of ‘fast citizenship’.  In this sense, DCE hopes to continue to publish work that explores how the tools of digital culture can be used to rethink not only how we live together with each other and machines, but also how we can leverage technology to create spaces for co-creation, co-production, debate and exchange that connect the local with the global.  Why slow citizenship to guide DCE? Because:

Slow citizenship would not seek to retreat from the discomforts and constraints of the physical world into the instant gratification of action in the virtual world, bit to address the lived problems and opportunities that being presented to communities by socio-technical change. Slow citizenship would seek to create space to explore and live with the new (and old) forms of diverse identity that our new socio-technical tools might offer. Slow citizenship would create a space for old and young to talk together, share expertise and insight across generations and build common response to shared problems. Slow citizenship would create conversation about the socio-technical structures we are building, and out responsibilities with in them and to each other. Slow citizenship would seek to reconnect the digital and the physical, to build bridges between the city street and the virtual world, and how these can enhance each other (p.100)

DCE embraces the vision of slow citizenship put forth by Facer at a time more defined by checking in and ‘sharing’ photos, than engaging in conversations and sharing aspirations for a more inclusive and democratic future. As our world wrestles with the depletion of resources, expanding wealthier and more demanding populations, economic globalisation, shifting socio-political values as fundamentalist belief comes into conflict with Western capitalism, and the reality that science and technology is transforming what is inherent to human existence (Craft, 2013), a trajectory of “fast citizenship in which digital technologies are used to ensure that everyone has a their say” (Facer, 2011, p. 99), does not challenge humans’ persistent confidence in an acquisitive, marketised, global culture despite increasing indicators of its destabilisation (Craft, 2013).

DCE continues to be interested in work that problematises digital cultural spaces in ways that reconnect the digital to the physical and offer new opportunities for children, young people and adults to engage in ‘possibility thinking’ and experimentation that is not dependent on commercial imperatives (Craft, 2013; Facer 2011). DCE hopes to publish more work that explores educational futures that challenge ‘what is’ in order to imagine ‘what might be’, “where ‘what is’ is a marketized, individualised narrative for childhood, youth, society and therefore education” (Craft, 2013, p. 132). We remain committed to keeping digital culture open to scrutiny and will continue to publish ideas, work and research that builds the capabilities and conditions for slow citizenship.  This is because this intentional stance tips the market balance in favour of more wise ‘possibility thinking’ because it has the potential to problematise the texts and narratives of fast capitalism—education, technology, money and science—that blur the reality they describe (Agger, 1989).  By unveiling these narratives in fast capitalism, through embracing slow citizenship, DCE hopes to publish work that reminds us individually, collectively and communally of our ability to imagine a preferable future where we live together and care for one another with the goal of designing a better world, built on trusting relationships.

In this issue

This issue begins with ‘Facilitating dialog in the game-based learning classroom: Teacher challenges reconstructing professional identity’ by Yam Sam Chee, Swati Mehorta and Jing Chuan Ong.  Their article explores the challenges teachers face when enacting authentic game-based learning predicated on dialogic pedagogy in the classroom. Rowan Tulloch then challenges the debate around gamification, conceptualising the concept not as a simple set of techniques and mechanics, but as a pedagogic heritage and an alternative framework for training and shaping participant behaviour that has at its core the concepts of entertainment and engagement in ‘Reconceptualising gamification: Play and pedagogy’. In ‘Digital ontologies of self: Two African American adolescents co-construct and negotiate identities through The Sims 2’, Tisha Lewis Ellison describes how two African American adolescent male cousins become co-constructors and negotiators of identity while playing The Sims 2.  Her work challenges educators to acknowledge how students participate with digital tools in communal spaces that shape how their literacy and identities are constructed, and it adds to the limited representation and investigation of African American family meaning-making and identity via digital tools. In, ‘Digital Culture and neuroscience: A conversation with learning and curriculum’, Kathryn Grushka, Debra Donnelly and Neville Clement outline the challenges faced by teachers as they engage in curriculum work that seeks to integrate the capabilities of our new digital culture in the design of learning experiences. It also highlights insights into human capacities for learning offered by neuroscience regarding the interplay of experience, memory, cognition, emotion and reflection in learning. Finally Robert Nelson and Phillip Dawson discuss their invention of a conversation simulator (or conversation sim) which illustrates how conversation and reading can be integrated in any Learning Management System (LMS). Their conversation sim for virtual learning demonstrates how automated educational technologies can positively contribute to the ongoing reinvention of reading and conversation through thoughtful absorption in a text and verbal interactivity over a topic. Daria Gladysheva, Jessica Verboom and Payal Arora present study investigates the phenomenon of museum communication through online video hostings, either by using YouTube or a customized platform in ‘YouTube as the art commons? Strategies, perceptions and outcomes of museums’ online video portals’.  Interestingly, they argues that as art becomes a cultural product to be consumed online, popular video portals such as YouTube serve as an important platform to facilitate this democratizing effect, with varied implications for the art world.

Into 2015

When Digital Culture & Education was conceived in 2006, open access publishing was not receiving the attention it does today. Our motivation for publishing DCE as an open access journal was simple.  We wanted to make all articles available to education practitioners—especially classroom teachers and front line workers—who might not have access to an academic library, and to scholars from institutions who are unable to fund that access. Open access was, for us, a way of disrupting the hegemony of academic publishing to intentionally reach a wider audience, particularly anyone who might find the work published in DCE useful. 2015 will see DCE continue to grow, with exciting changes.  We will be recruiting a new a co-editor, updating our website and publishing our first book under a first creative commons (CC) license.

We remain committed to publishing print and digital work that takes a critical approach to the issues raised by the increasing importance of new technology in all facets of society; in particular, research that examines the uneven uptake of technology, and perspectives on new media that emphasize its materiality, production, or environmental impact.  DCE has an open call for proposals for the development of guest-edited special themed issues and cover art. Guest editors and artists should send a short proposal or image to editor@digitalcultureandeducation.com for more information.

References

Agger, B. (1989). Fast capitalism: A critical theory of significance. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press.

Craft, A. (2013). Childhood, possibility thinking and wise, humanising educational futures.  International Journal of Educational Research, 61, 126–134.

Facer, K. (2011). Learning futures: Education, technology and social change. London and New York: Routledge.

Daria Gladysheva, Jessica Verboom & Payal Arora

Published Online: December 15, 2014

Full Text: HTML, PDF

Abstract: The current study investigates the phenomenon of museum communication through online video hostings, either by using YouTube or a customized platform. The videos uploaded by museums present a combination of educational and entertaining content depending on their objectives, attracting users to watch art content online. While the literature on uses and gratification is highly represented in media studies, few studies exist about the specific user motivations and gratifications of new media platforms in a museum context. Three types of users were identified in this study. The first type – art-oriented users – display extrinsic motivation towards art exploration and seek for videos with educational content. The second type and the most widespread on these spaces – entertainment-oriented users – are intrinsically motivated and concentrate on the entertaining content of museum videos. Users of the last type are averse to exploring art content online, unless they are defined as non-art related. Overall, this paper argues that as art becomes a cultural product to be consumed online, popular video portals such as YouTube serve as an important platform to facilitate this democratizing effect, with varied implications for the art world.  

Keywords: YouTube, art, edutainment, gratifications, museums, online videos, user motivations, Web 2.0

Introduction

Since the beginning of the 80s, museums started to converge with a booming leisure industry and constitute an important part within the entertainment field (Burton & Scott, 2003). Art museums are commonly regarded as the most conservative and distant from this industry, although art and popular culture largely share a tradition in visual culture and storytelling. Since online video portals started to take off in 2005 with the launch of YouTube, videos are increasingly seen as an important tool for art museums to reach out to their audiences and fulfill their educational mission, at the same time offering a space for entertainment online.

This has raised important questions for museum managers, mainly focused on how to optimally attract users to their website through art video content online. How can museums’ video portals engage users and what target groups should they cater to? In other words, how do museums engage users and what are the different motivations for consuming online art video spaces? This requires a review of strategies museums currently use in their online activity, followed by an inquiry into the nature of users’ motivations to engage with these online spaces and their perceptions and gratifications from this activity. The current study applies a qualitative content analysis of three different video portals of museums with differing objectives and conducts interviews with online visitors of these spaces. Three different types of users are identified, which could further develop museums’ online strategies and tactics in engaging audiences.

Overall, engagement can be a powerful tool to enable the digital sphere to be a new kind of ‘art commons’ where the public can consume art as a community. Online video sites such as YouTube serve as a fresh means to redefine what constitutes as effective communication strategies in the art world. This moves away from the long perceived image of museums being exclusive-oriented to one that is more open to public involvement. This paper focuses on the typology of user engagement with art based video portals, arguing that user gratification is closely aligned with community belonging, in spite of the overarching elitism in the art world. And while YouTube can stimulate a more democratic space within a much gated community of art enthusiasts, the quality of participation is challenging to administer. This situates museums in a dilemma as the current economic climate compels them to expand participation and yet, their persistent role as society’s cultural gatekeepers compels them to exercise their expertise on what counts as quality art experience.

Review of Literature

Shifting Museum Landscape: From Custodial to Audience-oriented

Over the past three decades, the primary focus of museums has shifted towards the public, placing communication in a more central role. This has been a consequence of political, economic and socio-cultural changes in the museum field, such as the growing competition with other leisure activities, reductions in state funding and the advent of the Internet. Currently, museums have adopted a new social function as their mission in society, defined by the International Council Of Museums in 2007 (ICOM; affiliated to UNESCO) as follows: “A museum is a non-profit, permanent institution in the service of society and its development, open to the public, which acquires, conserves, researches, communicates and exhibits the tangible and intangible heritage of humanity and its environment for the purposes of education, study and enjoyment.” [1]

Museums have thus moved from a custodial, collection-centered approach to a marketing, audience-centered approach, a move which can be divided in three development periods: a foundation period (1975-1983), a professionalization period (1988-1993) and the current entrepreneurial period (1994-now) (Gilmore & Rentschler, 2002). Whereas the foundation period of museum marketing started to stimulate visitor studies and educational research, the professionalization period marked a real cultural change with the addition of marketing departments and the distribution of power to external stakeholders. Currently, museums’ accountability to society is evident in their primal function as educators of cultural heritage. Museums are expected to deliver three essential and interrelated services namely, education, accessibility and communication. Education, as the core element of museums, is focused on educating the public on the nature and range of its collection, while communication includes the nature and scope of the interaction with visitors. Accessibility is the proximity to the core product and the availabilty of museum services.

The Internet constitutes an important extension of the service industry which has changed the way of marketing and communication and increased the level of internationalization. Museums are compelled to go online, as these new platforms are seen to provide the public with added ‘digital value’ to their visitor experience. In addition, the museum can fundamentally benefit from an online presence as it is able to cater directly to their loyal visitors, reach a large potential public, and create new and surprising digital experiments to engage the audience with the upcoming exhibits (Lagrosen, 2003). In this latter area, American museums are at the forefront, mainly due to the long commercial tradition of its non-profit sector (Toepler & Dewees, 2005). New ICTs have inclined museums to be where their public is, and social media is becoming a preferred platform for new kinds of interactions.

For museum managers, it is not only important to educate and inform visitors, but also to stimulate discussions in order to receive feedback and ideas from the community (Arends et al., 2009). The interactive and open nature of social media applications is especially suitable for this purpose. The signficant increase of social networking sites (SNS) have ignited the need for more understanding of online user behavior and motivations (Russo et al., 2008). Besides this strategic opportunity for museums to create dialogue with their online visitors, there is also an opportunity for them to promote the museum online and generate revenues (e.g. web shops). However, against these benefits, museum management also needs to consider the potential loss of control over information and notions of quality within the democratic Web 2.0 arena of amateur knowledge (Arora & Vermeylen, 2013).

Museum’s Digital Communication Strategies

Despite today’s omnnipresence of the Internet in the museum sector, specific research on its adoption and reflection remain partial and limited. However, in recent years some explorative studies on the importance of online value creation have surfaced. Hausmann (2012), for example, argues that “[i]n times of a general information overflow, declining credibility of traditional communication tools and a continued shortage of resources in the cultural sector, the fact that these web-based applications can facilitate viral marketing and stimulate word-of-mouth is of special interest to arts institutions” (p. 174). This is strengthened by the fact that cultural institutions like museums usually offer an experience good whose quality can only be determined after consumption. Online word-of-mouth facilitated by social networking sites thus is an important marketing tool in creating a ‘buzz’ around exhibitions. However, this does require a good online communication strategy, which is usually limited by a general shortage of time and personnel within the arts sector (Hausmann, 2012).

Previous research on online strategies by Lagrosen (2003) distinguished three general strategies employed by museums: avoidance, content, and technological. The first one was an overall strategy of ‘being there,’ but at an absolute minimal level of effort, whereas the content strategy implied higher efforts in uploading content using simple technology. The last communication strategy is meant to gain a leadership position by uploading quality content on a technologically sophisticated platform. Interestingly, a study by Padilla-Melendez & del Áquila-Obra (2013) found similar strategies employed today, namely defender, analyser, and prospector strategies. The defender sees the online space merely as a complement and informational brochure. The analyser gladly uses the interactivity of such media as an expansion strategy, but does not take in an online leadership position like the prospector, who makes high efforts in creating high online value for visitors. Chung, Marcketti and Fiore (2014) take this art marketing literature a step further and developed three strategies for relationship marketing using SNS. The first strategy, awareness, includes placing content on as many platforms as possible in order to initiate relationships and raise awareness of exhibitions and activities among the public. The aim of the second strategy, comprehension, is to enhance visitors’ knowledge of the museum mission and to strenghten existing bonds by using only a few platforms and integrating them. Finally, the third strategy, engagement, aims to create and sustain an online community by continuous conversations between visitors and museum staff. This entails a good understanding among personnel of the features of SNS.

Particularly, the popularity of YouTube (which since its start in 2005 currently takes third place on Internet traffic rankings [2]), has lured many museums. In 2006, New York’s Museum of Modern Art solicited the public to weigh in via YouTube on the choice of finalists for their exhibition. This was seen as a new trend by museums to harness the popularity of online communities and cater to the new generation of art fans. In an interview with the Wall Street Journal, curator Barbara London of MoMa claimed this to be iconic: “It’s like Andy Warhol and his can of Campbell’s soup, almost. (…) It’s a brand. It’s very much now. It’s alive” (Lavallee, 13 October 2006). According to Yehuda (2008), the nature of video hosting allows organizations to personalize their approach towards consumers and to create a level of intimacy unbeknownst before.

This last remark is close to the argument of Burgess and Green(2013) on YouTube’s participatory culture. They argue that online videos on YouTube should be understood in the context of everyday media practice. Users can now easily upload content and make sense of the world around them by narrating and communicating their (cultural) experiences. In this, uploading content on YouTube can be understood as a meaning-making process, and not merly as an attempt to work around the mighty media industry. This hits, what the writers call, the ‘YouTube-ness of YouTube’, or its shared culture. The authors further argue that it is not helpful to draw a sharp line between professional and amateur videos, or commercial and community practices: this industrial logic does not apply in a cultural system with its coherent cultural logic. According to Goldberg (2011), these two logics are inescapably intertwined with each other due to the economization of online participation. Whereas most new media scholars celebrate the liberating and empowering nature of Web 2.0 applications, scholars like Beer (2009) and Goldberg (2011) call for more critique of this assertions, stating that online participation places users in a network of power relations. Digital players like YouTube earn a lot of money over the backs of their users, while promoting themselves through such liberating claims as ‘Broadcast Yourself’. Hence, within this new digital commons, empowerment can be deeply corportized and monetized.

Greenfield (2008) argues that museums need to address a range of issues before starting any social networking project like video hosting. These issues include security, placing software management in-house or outsourcing it, monitoring protocols for user-generated content and the assessment of the tool’s success. New media professionals are furthermore faced with identifying and stating the project’s mission and main objectives (Marty, 2007). When executed properly, these social media platforms can more fully engage users, promote the museum and create an online community (Kidd, 2010). In addition to functioning as an educational tool, entertainment is also recognized among scholars to be an important constituent of the online visitor experience.

The decision to open up an online video channel on platforms like YouTube is mainly based on its people-friendliness, cost-effectiveness and minimal technical demand (Greenfield, 2008). In addition, it includes a loss of control over content, which provides museums some leverage for experiment. Examples can be found where museums have passed down control to users by requesting for video contributions and limiting their role to mainly curating these videos, as for instance with the exhibition of the The Resident art group at the Museum of Modern Art in 2006. On the other hand, there is also the strategy of customizing online video portals, such as that of the Indianapolis Museum of Art. Their self-developed video portal ArtBabble is considered as a best practice within the field. Museum staff named several reasons for keeping control over their online video content (and those of partner institutions), which involved among others the creation of a cost-effective space for high definition videos with no advertising disturbing the view (as opposed to the highly commercial YouTube), the ability to design their own governance protocols and to build an online brand (cooperatively), and last but not least, providing a specific and unique platform for a niche community of art lovers (Stein et al., 2010).

Users of online museum videos

In the past, visitors were seen as ‘zombies’ mindlessly taking in what the museum host told them, but todays’ online marketing by museums reflect a changing mind-set (Hooper-Greenhill, 2013). Web 2.0 platforms such as video hostings allow users to participate more fully in cultural issues, control the information they receive from these media and enable them to provide feedback. Besides being a “powerful educational  and motivational tool” (Duffy, 2008: 124), online video platforms are also a significant discovery tool, where users encounter novel content.

Kidd (2010) argues that if users of museum websites and related social media find these spaces attractive, the level of users’ awareness and loyalty towards museums rises. In addition, Arends et al. (2009) emphasizes the participatory attitude of users online: as online visitors are able to create art online, which can be viewed and commented on by others, these spaces can add value to the visitor experience. While these studies are helpful, there is insufficient literature in this area, particularly on the range of motivations and behaviors of users in museum studies. Hence, we adopt the enjoyment or gratifications framing of new media use to look into the user’s motivations in choosing certain media, as the type of pleasure gained from media shapes individual’s evaluation and perception of the larger context at hand, in this case, the museums (Ruggiero, 2000).

Gratifications are highly dependent on the needs or motivations consumers have to fulfill in their media usage and vice versa. The study by Lin et al. (2010) for example builds upon the premise that informal learning on museum websites is influenced by the emotional experience and enjoyment of these spaces. We identify three prime motivations here that lead users to discover museums’ online video spaces, inspired by the model of pleasures presented by Bosshart and Macconi (1998, in Vorderer, 2001): entertainment, education and socialization.

Even though entertainment appears to be the strongest motivation behind media use, people also seek pleasures from gaining knowledge (Bryant & Vorderer, 2013). These users show a strong preference towards learning that is especially apparent within the museum context. Mediated learning is especially deemed effective when it brings enjoyment which highlights the importance of the socio-technical archicture of the media space, as argued by Lin et al. (2010). In their study of museum websites, they find that important design characteristics for encouraging informal learning are novelty, harmonization of the space, and proper facilitations.

Finally, users also seek relations with others through the mediated space, which has been facilitated by the interactive web. These new Web 2.0 communities allow users to share preferences and pleasantries, to discuss and argue, and to participate in the intellectual discourse and exchange knowledge (Jankowski, 2006). Three motives for media usage, entertainment, learning and feeling connected to a community, are interrelated to each other, as users can have different motivations at the same time. Concepts as ‘edutainment’ and ‘infotainment’ for example show that the user’s experience with media is often multidimensional. After all, many scholars argue that entertainment is an important prerequisite for the processing of information (e.g. Duffy, 2008; Lin et al., 2010). However, the literature does make a distinction between extrinsic and intrinsic motivations. According to Ruggiero (2000), “individuals either intentionally seek out information or ritualistically use specific communication media channels or messages” (p. 9). When people are extrinsically motivated, they show goal-directed behavior in their activity where they purposively seek out certain benefits and want to meet specific expectations. Their online activity is cognitive and the entertaining aspects of the content have a less emotional impact on them (Novak et al., 2003). On the other hand, intrinsically motivated users are more experimental and affective in their behavior, and they prefer a bottom-up approach in their ‘online journey’. As Bilgram et al. (2008) articulate, “intrinstic motivation results from the activity itself conveying a feeling of enjoyment, exploration and creativity to the users and enabling them to make full use of their potential” (p.441).

To conclude, museums have recently become more commited to their visitors, and in the production of their online spaces they take account of their user’s preferences and desired outcomes. Museums therefore pay much attention to the way they set up their video portals while keeping an eye on their educational function. On the other hand, in the consumption of these spaces the context of online video platforms matters. Users gain satisfaction or certain gratifications out of watching online museum videos; they are engaged in the activity, feel a positive affect in its consumption or fulfill certain needs. Usually, they are motivated by a need to be entertained, to learn something and/or to socialize with persons with the same interests, emotions or morals, and are either extrinsically or intrinsically motivated to engage with this activity. Within the design of their online video spaces, museums must take this literature on uses and grafications of both old and new media into consideration. However, museum research is still scarce in this area, especially in the area of online video platforms, while many initiatives are currently taken up by museums. Therefore, this study aims to discern the peculiar motivations and perceptions of users of online museum video hostings.

Methodology

To investigate the communication strategies employed by museums on online video portals, a qualitative content analysis of three museums’ video spaces was conducted. This includes an analysis of the museums’ activity online, their level of control over the uploaded content, the way they react to users’ feedback, and the features of their video space, and among others their use of Web 2.0 features. These case-studies were chosen because of their distinct usage of the portal, either by simply using a YouTube channel (Metmuseum [3] of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York), by collaborating with YouTube (YouTube Play [4] of the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in New York), or by making a custom video platform out of private means (ARTtube [5], initiated by the Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen in Rotterdam, the Netherlands). The different operational models of these portals allow for a comparative study between museums, while the incorporation of one Dutch museum portal enables a cross-cultural comparison with the two American museums, both situated in New York. Note that ARTtube, launched on 9 October 2009, is the Dutch equivalent of the larger and more popular ArtBabble [6], a collaborative project initiated by the Indianapolis Museum of Art, U.S.A. which launched on 7 April 2009 with six partner institutions, whose experiment was set as the example for ARTtube. As of autumn 2011, Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen also cooperates with four other Dutch and Flemish museums. However, at the time this research was conducted, the museum was the sole operator of the video platform, which allows a comparison between three individual museum portals.

Moving over to the consumption-side of these video portals, the motivation of users and their perceptions of these spaces, a two-fold method was used. First, a qualitative content analysis of users’ activity and perceptions of these video spaces through their comments, appraisals, and ratings was conducted. This concerns comments on 12 videos for each portal, chosing 6 top-rated and 6 top-viewed museum videos on YouTube and the 12 most commented videos on ARTtube, creating a data set of 36 videos in total. Thus, a selection was made among the most popular content, rather than a random sample. These comments were then scrutinized for patterns and compared to categories taken from the literature, most notably looking for expressions of video’s entertainment,  education and socialization value.

Second, semi-structured interviews were conducted with ten users of our case-studies, who were interviewed over Skype. These ten online visitors were selected by sending out online surveys over the selected portals and their respective social media, and were randomly sampled out of the pool of respondents. The online survey was only administred for two weeks and collected data from 100 respondents. Because the survey data was too small, no significant findings could be made, though a general picture did emerge. Therefore, this data served to shape questions for the semi-structured interviews, allowing for more focused enquiries. This does not take away from the fact that the sample of ten interviewees is still too small to take definite lessons from, but the interviews did shine a light on more complex questions regarding users’ attitudes, perceptions and experiences with art museums and their virtual video spaces. Interviewees were asked what features of online art videos attracted them, which videos they prefer and what they took away from watching these videos, at the same time leaving room for their personal interpretations and reflections on the subject.

Results and discussion

First, the strategies employed by museums on their online video portals are investigated by analyzing video and social activity, and the characteristics of these three portals. This leads to a general understanding of uses of video platforms from the perspective of museums and museum communication. In the second section, the gratification users get out of viewing art videos online are further investigated through interviews with users. Lastly, we try to grasp the motivations behind user’s behavior as they explore the Web for videos of their interest; we conclude by arriving at three types of users on these spaces. This classification will be especially useful for museums that want to get (more) visibility on the Internet for their art videos.

Museum strategies for online video platforms

Both the Metropolitan Museum of Art (popularly called the Met) and the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum build their online web presence on the popular video hosting site YouTube. The main difference between the two museums lies in their web strategy. Whereas the Met simply took an account on a video channel on YouTube, the Guggenheim set up a joint video project in collaboration with YouTube, HP and Intel, their main purpose being to organize a biennial of creative (amateur) videos. Out of more than 23,000 videos submitted to the YouTube Play channel, 25 videos were selected by a jury and were highlighted in the museum and on the channel. In this undertaking, the Guggenheim played out a collaboration strategy with commercial parties as opposed to the broadcasting strategy of the Met. This is similar to Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen’s strategy of adopting a more experimental approach by designing a custom online video space, ARTtube. The objective behind ARTtube is to provide videos about art and design, the museum and its collection which are made by professional filmmakers. Dutch museums like Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen are for a large part funded by the government, either local or national (or both). However, for the ARTtube project, the museum received a generous contribution from the VSBfund, which is a donation fund.

In their YouTube Play project, the Guggenheim focused on the desire of users to create and share their content with others, with YouTube being a popular platform for such endeavors. Bernstein (2008) explains this notion by describing a similar museum project: “(…) the more we thought about YouTube, the more we came to believe that content created by the museum might not be as engaging as content created by others. Asking for visitor-created content seemed to be more in sync with the YouTube community.” In the case of YouTube Play this indeed turned out to be a success, with over twenty-thousand creative videos from amateurs being sent to the channel. However, the number of total views lag behind the number of channel views, indicating that the project was more popular for its creativity and experiment than its actual content consumption.

While the Guggenheim only produced some videos concerning their project and the organization of the biennial, the Met was more concerned with producing videos about their art collection for educational purposes, which is in line with their mission statement: “The mission of The Metropolitan Museum of Art is to collect, preserve, study, exhibit, and stimulate appreciation for and advance knowledge of works of art that collectively represent the broadest spectrum of human achievement at the highest level of quality, all in the service of the public and in accordance with the highest professional standards” [7]. The museum thus adheres to its image of an authoritative and expert institution, while also wanting to expand their audience reach through the popular and entertaining video platform of YouTube. And indeed, the number of views indicates that a considerable number of online users are reached.

ARTtube takes in a different position here, not only because its art videos are both in English and Dutch, with mostly English subtitling when Dutch is spoken. First of all, the navigation of the site is somewhat dissimilar to YouTube: although there is an overview of the latest videos and different playlists just like on YouTube, ARTtube also features news specific to the platform and allows for jumping to the next scenes in the video as pre-given by the producers. In a sense, the platform allows the museum to display professional videos in a fine-tuned socio-technical context for optimal information transfer. To this end, there is one specific feature that clearly distinguishes the platform from YouTube, namely its option to download videos from the site. In the Web 2.0 era, this is regarded among digital literati as a basic requirement that YouTube does not meet (Ito, 2006). On the other hand, ARTtube misses social statistics as likes (although videos can be shared).

With regard to content, the videos uploaded on YouTube Play are primarily for entertainment reasons, the Met almost exclusively presents educational content (e.g. with ‘talking heads’ of experts), while ARTtube shows a mix of educational and informational content and  entertaining audio-visual effects, i.e. displays videos for ‘edutainment’. This has some clear consequences in terms of interactivity and participation, although it is deemed common to have few comments on these museum video spaces (Mancini & Carreras, 2010). As expected, online traffic is more considerable when their participation is directly requested, as in the case of YouTube Play. This namely answers to the five main features of today’s participatory culture: 1) low entry barriers, 2) support for creativity, 3) informal mentorship, 4) evaluation of users’ activity, and 5) community building (Jenkins, 2006). The desire to create user-generated content (UGC) mainly lies in “connecting with peers, achieving certain level of fame, notoriety or prestige, and self-expression” (OECD, 2007: 4).

However, just as the other two platforms in our sample, little dialogue could be found within the comment sections. Users do provide feedback, but museums do not actively engage in responsive dialogue on video platforms, limiting receiver control (McMillan, 2006). One exception is a special series on ARTtube, the ‘Peanut-Butter Post’. This highly interactive section was initiated for the duration of an exhibition of the ‘Peanutbutterfloor’ (just as the name says) by Wim T. Schippers. Visitors could sit down for a webcam and ask any question concerning the art work which would later be answered by the artist. In this case, specific efforts were made to stimulate mutual discourse on the video space, and also quite succesfully (during the exhibition, which lasted from March 5, 2011 to May 29, 2011, 675 questions were posed, and about 90% were answered at the time of the content analysis).

To sum up, the Guggenheim engaged in a commercial enterprise with YouTube Play, using a bottom-up approach while highlighting its authoritative position by composing a jury for its biennial. In contrast, the Metropolitan Museum of Art uses YouTube in a top-down strategy, taking control over the production of its videos. Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen does the same with ARTtube, although its custom design allows for a more attractive and audience-centric context.

User engagment on museums’ online video portals

From the interviews, some main features of museums’ video hostings to attract visitors to these spaces could be extracted, namely the ease of access, entertaining and educative content, and the social platform it offers to users. These features can be connected to Bosshart and Macconi’s model of pleasures (see Figure 1). Interviewees for example indicated that online museum videos induced them to pay a real visit to the museum, enjoying the “use of physical abilities” and eliciting a “pleasure of the senses” (Vorderer, 2001: 251). This is supported by several studies, such as in the explorative study by Bakshi and Throsby (2010).

arora1

Figure 1. User gratifications from watching online museum videos

The interviewees most notably showed a desire to be entertained by museum videos, which is surprising considering the strong association of museums with learning. These important entertaining features of art videos connect well to Bosshart and Macconi’s notion of the pleasure of (ego-)emotions and is characterized by Green et al. (2004) as an immersion into a narrative world. When looking at the motives given in the interviews, five types of entertaining motives can be distinguished. First, users derive aesthetic pleasure from viewing museum videos, indicating for example that videos are beautiful, stylish, well-designed and have amazing visual effects. One interviewee responded on the YouTube Play channel from the Guggenheim museum in the following way: “I’ve got a visual pleasure through watching some fo the users’ videos, they were produced in a very creative way.” Visual characteristics of online museum videos thus have an important influence on users’ affective perception of these spaces.

Secondly, there is the immersive component; people indicated that they lost their sense of time while watching museum videos, i.e. felt immersed into the activity. As one respondent formulated it: “What I mean by being entertained by the video… is when I am fully absorbed in it.” A third motive was the empathy component; Users at times identified with the author or the main character of the video, for example in having the same ideas as him/her, or because of feeling connected with the author: “I watched that one-hour-video only because of Pogo, I was so excited and nervous about him” (about a participant of the YouTube Play Biennial). Fourthly, all interviewees indicated that they watched videos for the sake of escaping reality, for example boredom, seeking distraction from everyday activities, or to “explore something different from my life”. Lastly, interviewees also mentioned a desire to manage their mood (cfr. Zillmann, 1988), to feel better or just to feel serene. One respondent even advised that: “(…) even serious videos, such as museum videos, should involve some humor (…) Humor makes it easy to watch, and it also raises your mood”.

Although feeling mainly attracted to the entertaining content of museums’ online videos, interviewees also recognized the educational function of these videos. They felt a desire to learn something new or to find more depth: “Of course I’m not watching these videos only because they are entertaining. I am interested in art and I want to know more about my favorite periods of art or special artists (…) I also feel self-confident when I know more about the art issues I am interested in.” This provides them with a pleasure of personal wit and knowledge as found in other studies on cultural consumption online (Bryant & Vorderer, 2013). Moreover, some of the interviewees argued that they were more involved in the activity of watching museum videos online and remembered more information when videos were interesting and well-produced. Education thus works better when museum videos also have entertaining characteristics, or as Schweibenz (1998) argues, museum audiences seek both content and context and therefore museums should provide their visitors with ‘edutainment’ or opportunities for ‘playful learning’ (Resnick, 2004) in order to attract and engage them to a higher degree.

Basically, a key motivational factor for users is enhancing their socio-emotional state, i.e. the pleasure that users get from feeling affiliated to a community. Many studies have shown that visiting a museum is a largely social and group-based activity, which is engaged in collaboration with different subjects, such as family or friends. Spending leisure time on the Internet is no different, although it appears as a highly individual activity: relations are based here on virtual connections. Several motivations behind joining a virtual community can be mentioned, such as a desire to share information, to get social recognition for exchanging this information and to belong to a certain group. Interviewees in our sample for example indicated that they want to be viewed as an authority figure, and that they will only “write comments (…) when I’m sure somebody will read it. Otherwise there is no sense in it.” Respondents describe this feeling of belonging to a community as a desire to communicate with people who share the same interests: “I also follow this art channel and participate in discussions, because I like most of the other participants there. Sometimes I share my point of view and it seems like other users care about what I am saying”. Users thus seem to look for and place comments on those online museum platforms whose users will most likely share their interest in art. This opens up future avenues for research regarding the nuanced relationship between cultural capital, community and art consumption online.

User motivations for online art exploration

Having looked into the type of gratifications users seek when they engage with online museum videos and having distinguished the main characteristics of three museum video hostings with distinct strategies, we can progress by comparing both these consumption and production features in order to arrive at the peculiar motivations of users to visit and seek for content on these platforms.

Regarding the comments section, in YouTube Play, users mainly communicate their personal opinion about the video, the producer or its context, with few comments relating to art or museum issues. Many comments concern users’ delight with the way the video is produced or the soundtrack is chosen and the modern visual effects that are used. In effect, users act as jury members on this platform, although their comments are mainly limited to providing positive feedback and wondering how the video was made and what is the story behind it. A significant difference was found in comparing the six top-viewed and six top-rated videos on this channel, as comments on top-viewed videos showed a lot of spam and ‘trolling’ and top-rated videos mainly provoked appreciative comments. This can be explained by the fact that top-viewed videos are displayed on the main page of the video site, hence are watched and commented by everybody who conciously or unconciously encounters the channel on YouTube. On the contrary, top-rated videos are placed ‘deeper’ into the site, and are thus found by those people that are interested in its content.

Due to the popular and highly commercial strategy of YouTube Play, which was clearly advertised on the YouTube main page, the channel pulled in a lot of online traffic which far exceeds that of the other two platforms and thus contains more comments. However, both the Met and ARTtube attracted a considerable (niche) community onto their video channels. The accessible YouTube channel of the Met provides a free and open space for discussions about art, which happens to a far higher degree than on the YouTube Play channel. Remarkably though, no spam was found on the channel of the Met, which may either indicate a high level of ‘radical trust’ in the online community (Russo et al., 2008), or strict moderation from museum staff. Furthermore, top-viewed videos on the Met channel showed more comments expressing personal opinions, whereas top-rated videos were more topical, specific, and served more as an exchange of information. Comments on the ARTtube channel are scarce, which may be explained by the fact that (at the time) the site requires registration for placing comments. This may have refrained users from spamming, but also from commenting. The videos that received the most comments predominantly show positive opinions about the video content and enthusiasm for its entertaining and educational content.

The differing nature of users’ comments on the three video portals shows that different users seek different gratifications and are thus highly selective in their online viewing activity. Especially on YouTube Play many users weren’t expecting to see art videos; comments show that they were annoyed and irritated by this discovery. Upon reading these comments, different types of users can be distinguished, which are either pleased or appalled by the educational content of museum video spaces, or are mainly attracted by its entertaining content (see Table 1).

Art-oriented users. These users are mainly interested in exploring art and their online activity is directed towards this end. They are usually looking for art videos on museum video portals and are mostly interested in its learning content, although they are also attracted by its entertaining features. In this sense, these users are highly extrinsically motivated because their activities are “instrumental to achieving a valued outcome” (Hoffman & Novak, 1996: 61), i.e. aimed at discovering new or in-depth information about art. Their involvement is highly cognitive and their online attitude is mainly positive. Art-oriented users can be found on all platforms, although their participation on YouTube Play is less obvious than on the other two portals.

Types of users

Discovery

Attitude

Interest in

Presence on

YouTube Play

Met museum

ARTtube

Art-oriented Goal-directed Positive Interesting, educational content that contains knowledge

+

+

+

Entertainment-oriented Navigation-al choice Entertaining content, interactivity

+

-

+

Art-averse Negative Non art-related content

+

-

-

Table 1. Types of users on museums’ video portals

Entertainment-oriented users. This type of user pays a lot of attention to the entertaining features of museum videos, and are rarely looking for art-related videos directly. They are most likely to be overrepresented on museum video portals and mainly look for attractive visuals, opportunities to escape reality and to immerse themselves into the narrative of these videos. Because they accidentally come across art videos that they deem entertaining, the educational value is of less importance to them. They are intrinsically motivated, i.e. their viewing activity is performed for the sake of the experience of the activity, not for any apparent aim. These users browse the web for hedonic values such as enjoyment and their online behavior is highly experimental. If they like what they see, they will be more likely to come back. This may have positive outcomes for museums who want to increase their visitor numbers, also because this type of user is highly sensitive to commercial and bottom-up projects such as YouTube Play.

Art-averse users. This final type of users is mainly found on platforms such as the YouTube Play channel, leaving comments expressing their annoyance and dissatisfaction upon discovering art-related content during their online browsing activity (“Why YouTube decided I wanna know it??”). Just like entertainment-oriented users, they are highly intrinsically motivated with the difference that they like to be in control over the information they receive. They avoid spaces such as the Met channel and ARTtube altogether because they dislike their formal top-down approach. Although they are averse to art content, when videos are presented as displaying creativity they don’t mind watching them. However, they are also highly critical of these videos and do not refrain from providing negative feedback. In this sense, they put on their YouTube glasses and approach these videos as typical of this site: “YouTube formula #1. Take a DULL boring video… introduce “rapid cut” editing and cheap animation…and end up with… a BORING video with RAPID CUT EDITING and CHEAP animation” (one commenter on a video on YouTube Play).

Conclusion

In this day and age of Web 2.0, museums have a high stake in attracting and engaging their audiences online and thereby, museum management would benefit from more knowledge about the perceptions of users and outcomes of this type of digital commons. Considering the growing popularity of online video portals such as YouTube, this paper addresses the question of how museums can engage their users through online art video content. These digital spaces are seen as promising grounds for opening up the much gated art world and birthing new forms of public engagement. It is found that while art consumers online have individual differences in their gratifications and motivations, they do seek membership to virtual art communities and their consumption is affected by this collective participation. Even though these users consume art online, it is seen that they are first and foremost media users. Users bring with them well-schooled media practices, expectations and perceptions of digital spaces to these museum video domains. While contemporary museum video portals such as ArtTube, the Met Channel and YouTube Play are architected for democratic participation, the nuanced differences in their customized features give rise to diverse relations between these museum and their audiences. Other factors that influence user engagements within these novel art spheres are institutional funding and management strategies, commercial collaborations and institutional worldview on their role as experts and gatekeepers in this new media age.

Furthermore, this paper reveals three types of users with differing gratifications and motivations, namely, art-oriented, entertainment-oriented and art-averse users. So which type of users should museums attract on their online video platforms? Although entertainment-oriented users are by far the largest group encountered on these portals, museum management should make a choice between privilaging entertainment to meet the desires of this large group of users and their formal mission to serve art-oriented users who are looking for more in-depth knowledge of art. Platforms like ARTtube demonstrate that it can do both, provide ‘edutainment’ without being tainted by the commercial nature of YouTube and be recognized as a legitimate platform by a loyal art community. The balance between these two realms is an ongoing challenge as entertainment and education come with a long history of conflict in how we learn and engage as communities. Future research should explore the trade-offs that ensue in quality and expertise as popularization serves as an easier path to art markting in this difficult financial climate. 

Notes

  1. http://icom.museum/the-vision/museum-definition/
  2. http://www.alexa.com/topsites/global
  3. http://www.youtube.com/user/metmuseum
  4. http://www.youtube.com/user/playbiennial
  5. http://arttube.boijmans.nl/en/
  6. http://artbabble.com/
  7. http://www.metmuseum.org/about-the-museum/mission-statement

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Biographical statements:

Daria Gladysheva MA received a Master of Arts in media studies from Erasmus University Rotterdam, The Netherlands. She is currently a Communications officer at DSM in Delft, the Netherlands.

E-mail: daria.gladysheva@gmail.com

Jessica Verboom MA received a Master of Arts in media studies from Erasmus University Rotterdam, The Netherlands. She is currently working at the Marketing, Communication and Commercial Department of Het Nieuwe Instituut, institute for architecture, design, e-culture in Rotterdam, the Netherlands.

E-mail: verboom@eshscc.eur.nl

Website: http://jessicaverboom.wordpress.com/

Payal Arora PhD is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Media and Communication at the Erasmus School of History, Culture and Communication, Erasmus University Rotterdam, The Netherlands. She is the author of ‘Dot Com Mantra: Social Computing in the Central Himalayas’ (Ashgate, 2010) on internet practices in rural India. Her second book, ‘The Leisure Commons: A Spatial History of Web 2.0’ won the EUR Fellowship Award in 2011 and her paper on digitization of healthcare information won the 2010 Best Paper in Social Informatics Award by the American Society for Information Science and Technology (ASIS&T).

Email: arora@eshcc.eur.nl

Website: www.payalarora.com


Yam Sam Chee, Swati Mehorta & Jing Chuan Ong

Published Online: December 15, 2014

Full Text: HTML, PDF

Abstract

Despite widespread interest in the use of digital games to engage students and enhance the quality of student learning, the teacher’s perspective has been less extensively studied.  The challenges that teachers face when enacting authentic game-based learning predicated on dialogic pedagogy in the classroom offer powerful opportunities for professional learning despite potentially engendering stressful experiences. In this paper, we draw on the conceptual frame of dilemmatic spaces to theorise and document challenges teachers encounter when learning to enact dialogic facilitation in a game-based learning curriculum. Based on coded interview data drawn from nine teachers, our findings suggest that teachers wrestle with tensions engendered by habituated modes of classroom teaching and the need to redefine power relations with students. They experience a gap between their existing professional practice when they embark on the curriculum—their being—and striving to perform the role of an effective dialogic teacher—their becoming. The (re)construction of teacher identity that emerges is contingent on how teachers respond to continuing professional development as well as how they deal with challenges they face in the classroom.

Keywords: dialog, dilemma, game-based learning, performance, identity, becoming

I Must Not Prepare!

Relax. Breathe. Be yourself.

This time I went unprepared. Or so I managed to convince myself. I didn’t go through any readings this time, didn’t run through how the discussion should go in my head but merely decided on an anchor for the discussion.

These were some points raised during the discussion; “Money can buy everything”, “the teacher betrayed us”, “everyone started to attack us”, “we need to build up resources”, “we need to be prepared”. Each time a point was raised, my mind went into overdrive thinking of ways to bring the discussion “back on track”. Turned out, it was a rather weak attempt to “yank” the discussion back to where I’d wanted it to go. The discussion became disjointed and in my opinion, had failed rather miserably again. Instead of being a point of reference, the anchor became the yoke.

(Teacher’s blog entry, reflecting on a game-based learning lesson)

Introduction

The teacher’s blog entry conveys a palpable sense of heart-wrenching angst. It was authored by a schoolteacher, in the context of teacher professional development, while learning to support game-based learning in a Singapore classroom. Torn between the habituated practice of executing teacher-directed lessons and facilitating student-generated dialog on social studies issues fostered by game play, the teacher ruminated over a real dilemma: get her students to converse about issues that comprised her lesson agenda or allow her students to talk about what was meaningful to them based on their experience of game play?

This paper addresses the challenges teachers face when learning to master the pedagogy of dialogic teaching in conjunction with the use of authentic digital games. Teacher education programs in Singapore (at the time of writing) do not address dialogic pedagogy in any significant way. Dialogism is grounded in values different from conventional instructional objectives that revolve around teaching “content and skills.” Consequently, transitioning to this new practice does not come readily.

In earlier lesson reflection sessions with the teacher, research team members had suggested that the teacher prepare for the lesson rather than construct a predetermined lesson plan for subsequent classroom execution. She could do so by reviewing the most recent in-game events and considering their significance for issues related to the social studies curriculum. Titling her blog entry “I Must Not Prepare!” illuminates the slippery terrain of negotiating change in the teacher’s practice. She wrote about not preparing—“This time I went unprepared”—when we actually encouraged her not to plan the lesson (in the customary rigid manner). Furthermore, the teacher kept referring to the classroom activity as a “discussion” in spite of our efforts to contrast the concept of discussion, which connotes a convergent conversation whose trajectory tends to summative closure, with that of dialog, which connotes an expansive conversation that encourages and accommodates multiple voices and viewpoints (Bakhtin, 1981). As the teacher reviewed the topical ideas that arose during the class session, she reflected on feeling challenged knowing how to respond to students’ ideas as they spontaneously emerged, causing her mind to go into “overdrive.” The tension between fulfilling her classroom discussion agenda and that of genuinely facilitating dialog surfaced issues of lesson control, manifested in the reference to yanking the discussion to where she wanted it to go. Unfortunately, the teacher’s metaphorical “anchor”, an intended stabilising device, morphed into a burdensome “yoke” accompanied by a sense of failure.

The cited example makes evident the serious dislocation that teachers may experience when attempting to harness the power of authentic digital games for learning in the classroom. Unlike “serious games” (Abt, 1970) that tend to focus on the mastery of content and simple skills, “games-to-learn” (Chee, in press) challenge teachers’ conventional instructional practices and invite reconstruction of their professional identity. In this paper, we identify and explicate challenges that teachers experience when learning to enact authentic game-based learning in the classroom.

In the next section of the paper, we identify relevant literature and key concepts to situate our research problem. We then establish our research context and specific research goals. The next section articulates the research methodology. It is followed by our data analysis and findings. We discuss the implications of our work before concluding the paper.

Situating the research problem

Research on game-based learning adheres to different ideologies. We can identify two distinct orientations. In the first orientation, members of the research community accept dominant schooling practices “as is” while looking to games to strengthen student motivation in learning (Miller, Chang, Wang, Beier, & Klisch, 2011; Papastergiou, 2009). Members of this community appear not to see or feel the need to interrogate why students are increasingly disengaged and unmotivated in the classroom. Instead, they remain preoccupied with the discourse of technology integration. In the second orientation, members of the alternate community express increasing alarm over how schools are failing to prepare our children and youth for the realities of the 21st century and suggest ways to frame and address the challenge (Craft, 2013; Facer, 2011). Friedman (2013), in particular, argues that K–12 and college tracks are not consistently adding the value and teaching the skills that matter most in the marketplace and preparing students to be innovation ready.

For members of the alternate research community, authentic digital games of the kind studied by Gee (2007) offer the potential to transform educational practices in ways that respond to the demands for 21st century learning and educational reform. Gee (2012) argues that good games are a model of 21st century learning because they are about doing, making decisions, solving problems, and interacting, rather than being about content. Content in a game facilitates and serves acting, deciding, problem solving, and interaction. Game worlds, Halverson (2012) notes, are the referential totalities of tools, practices, traditions, and routines in which actors make meaning of actions and interactions. Consequently, games are excellent tools for driving inquiry and meaning making processes. Good games develop situational know-how: the capacity to act in contextually appropriate and informed ways. The value of such learning far exceeds the “possession” of knowledge or its mere profession (Chee, 2011b). What can be learned with good games is “performance excellence” (Friedman, 2013).

The construct of performance is central to the work of the authors (Chee, 2011a, 2013). It is predicated on three key characteristics: (1) patterned behavior, the doing and redoing of meaningful repertoires of behavior (including acting and speaking), (2) reflexivity, an evoked self-consciousness of the doing and redoing on the part of the performer, and (3) double consciousness, a critical self-assessment of actual performance against an ideal or standard that provides the basis for further improving one’s performance (Carlson, 2004). Based on the first author’s theoretical construction, performance constitutes the lived manifestation of personal identity. Identity, in turn, is constituted by a person’s knowing–doing–being–valuing manifested through engagement in situated action and participation in discursive practices (see Figure 1). It is helpful to think of knowing–doing–being as a three-colored, tightly interwoven braid wrapped around a central axial cable that represents valuing. The theoretical framing asserts the inseparability of knowing, doing, and being because they are co-constitutive. Furthermore, knowing, doing, and being are necessarily embedded within a larger sociocultural context of axiology because they are inherently value-laden activities (Ferré, 1996, 1998). Consequently, valuational dispositions ground personal biases, preferences, and choices (Dewey, 1938/2008). A performance-centric theorisation of human learning frames learning as a process of becoming (Semetsky, 2006) that progresses from a current state of being. It applies not only to students in schools and universities but also to schoolteachers, in relation to their ongoing development of professional practice to become better teachers. This theoretical framing helps us to better understand the challenges teachers face when enacting authentic game-based learning in the classroom.

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Figure 1. The constituents of identity manifested through performance

There is limited published work on the professional challenges teachers face when attempting to enact pedagogical innovation with authentic digital games. There are two main reasons. First, published work in the tradition of classroom use of “serious games” largely conforms to the model of games to teach content and limited skills. This approach aligns with Prensky’s (2001) definition of digital game-based learning as the combination of computer and video games with educational content to achieve as good or better results compared with traditional learning methods. It reduces educational games to an ICT resource directed toward conventional schooling and its associated goals. Innovative research on games and virtual worlds, such as Quest Atlantis (Barab et al., 2009) and River City (Ketelhut, 2006), focus on science education of a constrained, school-based kind. Such environments over-structure and over-simplify science education at the expense of the kind of inquiry advanced by Dewey (1938/1991).

Second, institutional and parental resistance has largely kept innovative use of games for learning out of the classroom. Consequently, most innovative work has taken place in situational contexts where teachers have less direct involvement, often participating in only a peripheral way. In the United States, for example, it is often the researchers who play a central role in non-formal, out-of-classroom learning settings (for example, Kafai, Peppler, & Chapman, 2009).

A notable exception is the research of Hanghøj that seeks to directly examine how teachers perceive, approach, and use COTS-like games in Danish and Belgian classrooms. This line of work is based almost exclusively on the Global Conflicts series of games. Hanghøj, however, consistently uses the terms “teaching with games” (Hanghøj & Brund, 2010) and “game-based teaching” (Bourgonjon & Hanghøj, 2011), lending a teacher-centric, instructional connotation to his writing. He also prefers to passively observe what teachers do with games in the classroom as part of naturalistic observation. Consequently, no professional development or active form of support is offered to the observed teachers.

While games have the potential to offer an inquiry-based, constructivist approach that allows learners to engage with material in an authentic yet safe environment (Becker, 2007), the pertinent question that arises is who will scaffold the teachers to teach differently so as to achieve this potential? Given the limited research on this topic, it appears that there is a real need to support teachers, via professional development, so that they may realise the power of authentic game-based learning.

As a construct, the term “dilemmas” was introduced into the educational literature by Cuban (1992) when he drew attention to messy situations in professional life that grant no simple “right” answer because they embed deep value conflicts. Denicolo (1996) argues that dilemmas are unavoidable given “the relativism of knowledge, different notions of what constitutes the ‘truth’ for the teachers themselves, for their pupils, and for those who set and examine the curriculum” (p. 60). Consequently, the commitments of mutual parties are not always in harmony. Because there are no inherently “right” answers to dilemmas, they tend to leave “a residue of guilt” or a “remainder of regret” whatever the course of action taken.

Similarly, Honig (1996) holds that dilemmas pose the question of difference and the ineradicability of conflict in specific and ordinarily familiar settings. Difference, she asserts, “is what identity perpetually seeks (and fails) to expunge, fix, or hold in place” (p. 258). Honig proposes the theoretical construct of dilemmatic spaces: the conceptual space within which moral subjects are positioned on multiple, conflictual axes of identity such that the subject’s agency is constituted and enabled by dilemmatic choices and negotiations. Thus conceived, socialised human beings, as moral beings, inhabit dilemmatic spaces as a matter of course. From this there is no escape.

Fransson and Grannäs (2013) extend Honig’s construct of dilemmatic space by inflecting space as a relational category associated with the concept of dilemma. Consequently, dilemmas are not conceptual entities but social constructions resulting from structural conditions and relational aspects in everyday practices, enacted through the execution of positioning and negotiation maneuvers based on personal values. Thus, a dilemmatic space also establishes a relation between human subjects and the negotiation, construction, and deconstruction of professional and personal identities. This theoretical framing of dilemmatic spaces furnishes us with a powerful conceptual tool with which to understand the challenges that teachers face when enacting game-based learning as a pedagogical innovation in the classroom. Much is at stake for teachers who engage in bona fide game-based learning in the classroom because a teacher’s professional practice is firmly and inextricably located within an intricate web of epistemological, ideological, professional, social, and power relations in the workplace.

Research context and goals

Our research takes place in the context of fostering teacher capacity to enact authentic game-based learning in the classroom using the Statecraft X curriculum. This curriculum, designed for social studies taken by 15-year-olds, is based on the Statecraft X mobile game. It is played on Apple iPhones (see Figure 2). The Statecraft X curriculum addresses the topic “principles of governance,” representing one of four key topics in the social studies curriculum for students in Secondary 3. In our school-based research, each student is loaned an iPhone with a supporting data plan for the duration of the curriculum. Details of this curriculum can be found in Chee, Gwee, and Tan (2011) and Chee, Mehrotra, and Liu (2013). Both papers reported on the efficacy of the curriculum for student learning in relation to citizenship and governance.

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Figure 2. The town map of the Statecraft X mobile game

Our earlier work revealed that teachers found the process of learning to facilitate student dialog (Roth, 2009) in the game-based learning classroom difficult. In the present project, teachers had the benefit of professional and moral support from their school leaders in addition to an initial two-day professional development workshop that oriented them conceptually to ideas associated with game-based learning supported by dialogic learning. Like learning to swim, enacting an unfamiliar pedagogical role in the classroom constitutes a performance of teaching. The challenge is not about knowing what to do but being actually able to do it (as suggested by the blog piece that opened this paper). Thus, learning some subject domain, Y, is not equivalent to learning about Y (just as learning swimming is not equivalent to learning about swimming). Consequently, no amount of lecturing, questioning, discussion, or self-study can adequately prepare a teacher for enacting game-based dialogic facilitation in front of, and with, students. A teacher’s capacity develops with practice over time. Representational modes of learning, based predominantly on language, lead to passive and inert outcomes. They cannot deliver what teachers need: the capacity for enactive performance.

In the research reported here, we worked with teachers to foster their capacity for dialogic facilitation in conjunction with the use of Statecraft X. The game-based learning curriculum is predicated on the pedagogy of performance, play, and dialog (Chee, 2011a). With respect to student learning, we seek to foster their dispositions and capacities to become active and responsible citizens—a performance capacity—because it makes little sense for students to merely learn about citizenship and excel in written tests. Consequently, with Statecraft X, students play the game in their own time, outside of classroom hours. Game play can take place anywhere—in school, in the shopping mall, at home, etc.—given the provision of wireless network connectivity. Scheduled social studies lessons are used by teachers to engage students in dialog directed toward making meaning of events and processes experienced during game play. Teachers interrogate the actions taken by students in the game and surface the values underlying students’ actions. They also encourage students to reflect on the consequences of their in-game actions as governors of virtual towns in the game and to evaluate their own actions to foster the disposition of reflexivity. We refer to these classroom conversations as dialogic sessions. Given a typical class size of 40 students, we divide each class into two independent game instances of 20 students each. Consequently, two teachers participate in each research intervention, with each teacher engaging in dialogic facilitation with approximately 20 students. Given that the pedagogy is oriented toward dialogic inquiry and sense making rather than to teaching content, it is imperative for teachers to be able to elicit and build on student contributions in a manner productive for deep interrogation and reflection.

The next section of the paper articulates our research methodology.

Research methodology

Our research is based on a collective case study (Patton, 2002). Our data is drawn from nine individual case studies, representing the nine teachers with whom we collaborated. Our empirical work in schools took place between January 2012 and February 2013. Each cycle of the Statecraft X curriculum intervention lasted three weeks.

Participants

Our research participants were nine government secondary school teachers, of whom six were female and three were male. They taught social studies to 15-year-old students in Secondary 3. The teachers were recruited via a talk for school leaders and teachers organised by the local Academy of Singapore Teachers. Five teachers were “beginning teachers” who had less than three years of teaching experience. Two were experienced teachers with more than three years of teaching experience. The remaining two teachers were “mid-career switch” teachers. They entered the teaching profession as a second career. One teacher had taught for less than three years while the other had taught for over three years. The nine teachers came from five separate schools. Five teachers enacted the Statecraft X curriculum twice with different classes. The remaining four teachers enacted the curriculum once. As part of the requirement for ethics clearance, the teachers were given a detailed briefing on the objectives of the project and what was expected of them as participants. We secured written agreement for their participation. The teachers consented to having their classes observed and being interviewed after each class except the first.

Materials

The teachers were familiar with the Statecraft X mobile game. They were introduced to the game as part of the professional development workshop held before they commenced participation in the research project. This introduction required them to play the game, as a student would, for a period of about five consecutive days. The five-day duration represents a compressed version of game play, as the typical duration of game play by students lasts approximately 16 days. As part of in-class teaching activity, the teachers periodically used the game’s web-based “Teacher Administration Tool” to share two graphs with their students: the Economic Wealth graph and the Citizen Happiness graph. These graphs furnish feedback to students on how the in-game faction (analogous to a political party) they belonged to was performing vis-à-vis other factions. Teachers were familiar with these graphs and how to interpret them in relation to emerging patterns of game play. The tool also provided teachers with detailed information about each faction (e.g. amount of gold, wood, ore; population size of various towns; inter-racial harmony; etc.).

Procedure

Each curriculum intervention cycle ran over three consecutive weeks. There were six social studies lessons in each cycle, given that schools typically scheduled two social studies lessons per week. The duration of each lesson varied between schools. The range was between 45 and 60 minutes. Teachers were interviewed prior to commencement of the in-class research. They were further interviewed after each of sessions 2 to 6. Session 1 was exceptional in that class time was used to introduce the curriculum and game to the students. The researchers presented this session. The iPhones, funded by the research project, were also loaned to the students at the end of this session.

Post-lesson interviews with teachers were positioned as lesson debriefs and professional development conversations. They were conducted informally and directed toward engaging teachers in reflection on their just-concluded lesson and to address any difficulties encountered. The interview sessions usually lasted between 30 and 60 minutes. These sessions were audio recorded.

Data analysis

We collected approximately 40 hours of teacher interview data. Two coders carefully transcribed these interviews. One coder was a research assistant with a degree in sociology. The other coder was a schoolteacher seconded to the research project from the Ministry of Education. The transcripts were crosschecked in instances of ambiguity. The text transcripts were systematically organised and labeled to facilitate ready identification of teacher and interview session.

We employed a form of coding akin to grounded theory (Birks & Mills, 2011) in order to distill, categorise, and establish themes that appropriately and fairly reflect the teachers’ articulations of challenges they faced while enacting their classroom lessons. We stress that it was not our intention to perform a grounded theory study in the full sense that may be implied by this term. As Corbin and Strauss (2008) point out, “[i]f the researcher is building upon a program of research or wants to develop middle-range theory, a previously identified theoretical framework can provide insight, direction, and a useful list of initial concepts” (p. 40). Our work is not oriented toward developing a complete bottom-up grounded theory from the data collected. Rather, it is located in the context of fostering teacher capacity to enact game-based dialogic facilitation with a view to encouraging the take-up of such teaching practice. Consequently, our analysis of data is oriented toward addressing this goal. Our findings may be colored because we embarked on the research process with an “appropriation model of innovation uptake” derived from a review of the relevant literature and used as a basis for securing research funding.

We used NVivo as the computer-based tool to assist in data management and manipulation, the coding process, and the subsequent distillation of code descriptors. This process was highly iterative, and it involved all research team members in dialog directed toward making emergent sense of the data and stabilising a collective interpretation that felt grounded and defensible. The coding work was the primary responsibility of the third author.

Findings

In this section, we present our findings of classroom challenges that teachers faced when enacting the Statecraft X curriculum. In the excerpts cited below, our collaborating teachers are not equally represented for two reasons. First, some teachers conveyed keener insights into their circumstance than others. Second, some teachers were more reflexive than their peers. We seek to share the voices of teachers as faithfully as possible. The cited instances convey how teachers wrestle with the process of change in professional practice. It is hoped that readers will not only read the excerpts but also feel the emotions that underlie them.

Classroom challenges that arise from reconstructing teaching practice

Facilitating game-based dialogic learning in the classroom constitutes a performance enacted by a teacher (and by her students as well). It entails more than simply having a requisite set of “knowledge and skills.” Akin to learning how to swim, the first attempt is always the most difficult. In this subsection, we exemplify the quandaries of teachers as they attempt a new pedagogical practice. The challenges articulated here are not merely professional “problems” (see Section 2) that would find natural resolution with extended opportunities to practice dialogic facilitation. Dilemmas arise when teachers feel they are “letting their students down” because they are unable to rise quickly to the standard of professional performance needed, as exemplified in the opening teacher’s blog entry. The moral dilemma is always: “what do I do now, in the present situation?”

Learning to think and act “on one’s feet.” Adele (all teachers names are pseudonyms) expressed her professional learning challenge in the following terms:

I totally forgot about the refugee arrival! . . . And that was actually what I had planned, as in like in my head, thinking of the refugee arrival and to link it to migration. . . .  That was what I had in mind before I step into the lesson. . . . But during the lesson, as it was going on, yeah, then I sort of got lost in the things that they were saying.

Adele had made due lesson preparation prior to her class. Based on her understanding of the game and how game play was evolving, she was aware that the in-game event of refugees arriving in the towns governed by her students provided the perfect springboard for conversing about issues related to migration and immigration policies. However, Adele felt overwhelmed by what students had to say in class, leading her to “get lost” in the things that they were saying. Brenda expressed this idea succinctly when she said, “to me as a Statecraft X teacher, you really need to think on your feet at all times.” As a teacher with less than three years of teaching experience and accustomed to teaching within the safe confines of a predetermined lesson plan, Adele had not needed to “think on her feet” very much before. Consequently, she found doing so challenging and felt disappointed being unable to keep track of multiple conversational threads effectively despite the availability of a whiteboard.

Pauline expressed the difficulty she experienced in terms of the need to be adept at multitasking. She said:

. . . most of the time when we go to the classroom it is just the screen and the board. But now I have the screen, the board, and then I got . . .  I’m like thinking I’ve got to show the results but then I want to refer to my notes. The unfortunate thing is that our printers are not working well, so most of the time we would have printed out all these things as reference . . .

The “results” that Pauline referred to were the Web-based graphs of the game’s economic wealth and citizen happiness scores. These representations allow teachers to convey to their students how various player factions are performing relative to one another. While teachers are used to working with just the projector screen and the whiteboard in a linear fashion, they can feel overwhelmed when they also need to pull up Web-based graphs and refer to their personal notes in a more contingent way. In this regard, Pauline added that knowing the members of the class very well would be a big help “[b]ecause having . . . you know your brain like . . . having to do so many things – you’ve got to think and then you got to know who’s that and then . . . It . . . it does tax you a little bit.”

Overcoming old teaching habits. When asked about the challenges she faced enacting the Statecraft X curriculum, Adele spoke of the difficulty “of really being a facilitator rather than the traditional ‘imparting of knowledge’” that she was accustomed to. She added, “I think I am still used to the habit of talking and talking and talking and talking. Yeah.”

In a more reflective moment, Pauline also shared:

And in fact sometimes because you are so used to doing things a certain way, and then you are very comfortable yet you are confident in that . . . it is what you are good at but because of that, it hinders you and then you have certain blind spots.

Later, Pauline added:

Yeah we are always prepared with PowerPoint slides and we are . . . And even if there is a discussion we know where to always go back to. And I think being used to that. That is a hindrance that I need to get rid of.

Pauline appeared conscious that her ingrained habits that made her feel “comfortable” and “confident” in her traditional mode of teaching and which she had become “good at” could lead to blind spots and hinder the take up of a new pedagogical practice. She also began to view the practice of instructing with PowerPoint slides, which facilitates returning to a point of departure following an unplanned digression, as a “hindrance” to the development of dialogic practice.

Maintaining flow and coherence in dialog. Teachers often struggled with the challenge of maintaining a natural conversation flow becoming of a dialogic classroom. Fiona spoke of this as “about being seamless – about just going into the virtual world and then back to S~ uh . . . you know, to Singapore, and then the real world.” (The tilde character is used to denote interrupted speech.) As part of dialogic pedagogy, teachers were encouraged to draw connections between events and processes in the game world (referred to here by the teacher as the “virtual world”), in Singapore, and in the real world beyond Singapore. This art of expansive and relational conversation was initially challenging for most teachers until they got the “hang” of it. In a later interview, Fiona added:

. . . it’s also pressurising because things may not go well.  . . . Things may not flow well, you know and then there are moments where some . . . I guess in the beginning with 3R1, sometimes when I felt like “okay, oh no we are stuck. What should we do now?”

The excerpt above was uttered during the teacher’s second intervention cycle. 3R1 refers to the class taught during her first intervention cycle. The sense of feeling pressured and of “being stuck” is palpable: what should we do now?

Teachers also wrestled with maintaining the coherence of conversational flow in the classroom. During her first intervention cycle, Pauline said:

But the low point was that I couldn’t pick up y’know enough on these things and I felt like the session didn’t . . .  I felt like there wasn’t a flow. I just felt like it was here and there.

In the subsequent interview, Pauline also referred to the ideas as being “disconnected.” Fiona expressed her difficulty as: “I felt that there was a bit of a jump.” These utterances illustrate the challenge teachers experience in orchestrating and managing the smooth flow of dialog so that the classroom conversation does not feel patchy and like being “here and there.”

Dropping points and missing opportunities to interrogate ideas. When asked to identify a low point after one of her classes, Pauline said:

Lowest point, the first one would be the dropping of points. Because, yeah, I think as a teacher you always look out for teachable moments. It could be the teaching of values, I mean, um, so I thought you know when the students said “I don’t really care about the people” you know, I thought  . . . yeap that was one – why do you not care, that is so obvious that people would be one of the most crucial, because without people then you will not have the town, you know.

Pauline regretted failing to seize the opportunity to foreground a pertinent point about a government’s attitude—not caring—toward its people. Consequently, a “teachable moment” was lost, and a “point was dropped,” much to her distress. Fiona shared a similar sentiment:

. . . one of the difficulties would be as you said, really thinking on the spot and trying to link IMMEDIATELY whatever the students say to a concept or to a learning point. And . . . yeah. That I still find difficult. And I think that it takes quite a lot of time to get the hang of it.  [Word in uppercase denotes speech emphasis.]

The excerpts above illustrate teacher frustration with letting slip some powerful opportunities for learning that their students’ utterances offered as they wrestled with the challenges of a new teaching practice.

Teachers also experienced uncertainty over what they should or should not say. For example, Pauline shared:

. . . when I was in intervention 1, we were carrying that out, I was afraid to share my thoughts because I didn’t know whether I would give the game away or give anything away. So I wasn’t quite sure of the balance.

In this instance, we had sensitised teachers to avoid “teaching content as content.” In the process of making meaning of this statement, teachers sometimes interpreted the statement to mean that they should not share their own thinking with the students. Fortunately, as part of the interview sessions, we were able to clarify that facilitating student dialog did not imply that they were precluded from sharing their own thinking with their students.

Classroom culture and the need to redefine relations with students

It is difficult to develop a dialogic classroom culture if teachers are accustomed to an authority position with respect to subject matter. Several teachers expressed the importance of developing rapport with students for dialogic facilitation to be effective. Noreen, for example, said that “rapport must be built very strongly such that uh the students are feel comfortable enough to really talk and verbalise their opinion.” Stephen further illuminated this issue:

. . . yeah I’ll just be very painfully honest. Okay. I mean after communicating with my students today, I think I really got to understand them on a deeper level. . . . Okay. These sessions like that do help. But then I realized that many of them actually really have a fear of speaking up. A deep-seated fear of speaking up and a fear of being judged.

Stephen was referring to the 22 students (half the intervention class) whose dialogic sessions he was facilitating and for whom he was their regular social studies teacher. Things had not been going well during his first intervention cycle. His students were unresponsive to his attempts to open up conversations. The students were top academic scorers and belonged to the best class in their cohort. They were known amongst schoolteachers as “high performers.” It was an epiphanic moment for Stephen when he shared “in painful honesty” that these students, based on conventional classroom culture, had a “deep-seated fear of speaking up and a fear of being judged.”

Brenda, who was from a different school, had a different experience:

I did fairly well in the sense that um, I guess that I have an added advantage because I taught quite a number of them last year. So I already had a rapport with a few of them, so I get their respect and the kind of cordial relationship. So the students are very open mmm with me, I don’t think anybody was reserved in asking questions.

As researchers, we sensed a deeper factor at work. While Stephen and Brenda appeared satisfied and comfortable framing the issue as one of student rapport, Brenda, we believe, got closer to the crux of the matter when she said:

I am more to the side where uh I prefer to be closer to students. A bit more pally, rather than the other end of the continuum, because I believe that um if I have a good relationship with the students and things like that, the respect that they give me could be easily earned and uh . . . support from them is very um easily garnered. I don’t have to be authoritative or authoritarian to earn their respect. But I earn respect by . . . by showing an example myself that when one person speaks I listen.

In an interview toward the end of her second intervention cycle, she added:

. . . initially as I you know, started as a fresh beginning teacher, it’s really like okay, a teacher um doing the teaching. And um . . . it’s more of top down because I’m the one having all the subject knowledge content. I have all the information and I know that . . . I clearly know that my students do not have access to all these. So I feel that I have an advantage over my students. . . . So I feel I have the upper hand. But you know as I do this um Statecraft X project, I find that it is . . . Okay, I [laughingly with emphasis:] descend to be of the same level as the student whereby I find myself learning a lot from the students and they are definitely in the capacity to teach me. And in fact, some of them they might even know more than me. And from a teacher, I become a facilitator. And at the same time, I am also a learner. So I’m of the same level as the students . . .

Brenda manifested an ability to reduce the culturally enforced power relation between teachers and students in Singapore schools and a genuine willingness to bring herself down to the level of her students. She expressly shied away from being “authoritative or authoritarian,” preferring to be “pally” with her students. She acknowledged feeling that she had “the upper hand” over her students because she had content knowledge that they did not possess. But, most importantly, she declared that her involvement in the Statecraft X project led her to “descend to be of the same level” as her students “so I’m of the same level” as them. She also found herself “learning a lot from the students and they are definitely in the capacity to teach me.” This attitude represents a significant shift in the relation typical between teachers and students in Singapore. It is also a significant marker of Teacher B’s personal growth and of the development of her professional identity.

As Brenda professed, she is a mid-career switch teacher with limited teaching experience. Perhaps the years spent working outside the school sector contributed to the seeming ease with which she changed her attitude toward her students. Being relatively new to the teaching profession, she appears not to have been much influenced by deeply rooted classroom norms that sway teachers toward imposing and maintaining a power distance between themselves and their students.

From the foregoing, it becomes evident that established cultural norms can strongly influence how readily dialogic learning is assimilated into classroom practice. While conventional cognitivistic analyses of student learning processes and outcomes exclude consideration of power relations in the classroom, a sociocultural analysis necessitates it. Opening up analysis to the consideration of power relations suggests that it is important for teachers to be able to redefine their relationship with students. Reducing the power gap encourages students to articulate their ideas and make their voices heard so that productive learning can take place. Teachers who feel that their professional identity demands the maintenance of high power distance, especially in Asian cultures, wrestle with the dilemma of striking a practical balance between school norms and pedagogical requirements.

Discussion

Our findings suggest that the challenges associated with shifting teaching practice gives rise to dilemmas in the professional life of teachers. From the perspective of theory, Fransson and Grannäs’s construction of dilemmatic spaces, extended from Honig’s original idea, possesses considerable theoretical merit. Unlike Honig and Denicolo who suggest that dilemmas are characterised by having no “right” answer, we propose that there may be situations where a “right” or inherently “preferred” answer may exist. However, the situation may still constitute a dilemma because the “right” answer remains out of reach to a teacher who has neither the means nor the power to attain that “right” answer. Consequently, a “remainder of regret” may be left as a situational residue. Teachers continually find themselves inhabiting a dilemmatic space when lessons do not go the way intended due to their still-developing dialogic facilitation skills. They may then either abort attempting to enhance their pedagogical practice (and feel a twinge of guilt about that) or try to master the practice and feel poorly about not succeeding. Either way, the outcome leaves some “residue of guilt.”

As suggested by Denicolo, however, dilemmas can trigger deep reflection and lead to emancipatory outcomes through transformative professional growth. Brenda, for example, felt more confident that she could facilitate her students’ development of 21st century competencies after she enacted two cycles of the Statecraft X curriculum. As she reflected on her learning journey, Pauline said, “you know I’ve really see how um, it has changed me.” During her second intervention cycle, she shared that she was already adopting a dialogic approach in her teaching of another subject with a different class. She spoke of how the professional support offered “help[ed] me change the way I see my kids” (referring to her students) and of a newly found “openness to really hear and accept what the kids are saying.” She also spoke of “my identity as a teacher, as well as a Statecraft X teacher, is that um the way I teach is different.” She further emphasised, “I definitely take greater ownership toward the curriculum.” These utterances are reflective of deep professional change. They illuminate the impact that enacting the game-based curriculum had on the teacher. When Pauline’s colleagues suggested that taking up Statecraft X “seems like a lot of work,” she responded, “I said ‘sounds like it, but actually . . . I don’t prepare!’” (cf. opening blog excerpt). Pauline’s identity shifted significantly, and her professional growth was evident for all to see. With reference to Figure 1, Pauline’s engagement in situated action, both in and out of the classroom, and her manner of participation in discursive practice helped her reconstruct her identity, as encapsulated by the knowing–doing–being–valuing of her reconstructed practice. Through learning as becoming, Pauline’s identity evolved. She likened her journey of transformation to how a pearl is formed. Beginning with a small piece of dirt that gets into an oyster and irritates its very being, the process of dealing with that triggering event, albeit painful and difficult, ultimately yields an outcome of great value.

From the perspective of teacher professional development, our findings point to a crucial need to approach teacher professional development as intensive person-oriented work. One-off teaching practice seminars and two-day professional workshops cannot yield the kind of deep change needed to transform teachers’ knowing–doing–being–valuing (Chee & Mehrotra, 2012; Flint, Zisook, & Fisher, 2011). The provision of continuing professional development is vital for teachers to build the capacities required for 21st century education and for them to be active agents of school improvement. For teacher identity to be impacted and for there to be sustainable professional growth, teachers must also begin to value learning outcomes vastly different from those that adequately met the needs of the 20th century and respond to the needs of a changing world. Change intervention and change management processes need to be instituted by policy makers to provide for greater teacher agency, participation, and voice in teachers’ professional lives so that teachers feel empowered to create their professional future and contribute their expertise and talent.

Institutional systems, such as that of school, entrench structures and processes for self-perpetuation. If teachers feel compelled to comply with the system’s bidding because their own work appraisal is tied to that of their students scoring high marks on tests and examinations, they are caught in a double bind. Such an environment leads to teachers resisting innovation, teaching to the test, and being unwilling to deviate from “proven success formulas.” The ensuing institutional culture is one of risk aversion. To counter this culture, education leaders need to develop an environment that teachers perceive to be safe and an institutional culture that welcomes and rewards pedagogical innovation. Teachers need considerable support, in terms of resources and moral support, to step outside of their comfort zone and take carefully considered professional risks. Deep change to practice moves in tandem with development of teacher identity. Apart from time and space needed to experiment with new pedagogies, teachers also require ample opportunity to practice new ways of teaching because it is practice that makes practice (Britzman, 2003).

Working with nine teachers on this research project, we observed a spread of teacher responses to the challenges they encountered when enacting the Statecraft X curriculum. While some teachers learned quickly, others were more challenged due to a host of complex interdependent factors. Apart from institutional and situational factors, teacher identity also influenced the outcome of teachers’ professional learning. We witnessed momentous transformational growth and emancipation on the part of teachers who adapted well to the demands of a new classroom practice. But we also witnessed teachers who experienced difficulty because they had limited control over system constraints that were, for them, fixed and non-negotiable. Consequently, entrenched systems, with their mandated rules, cultural norms, and assessment procedures, can stubbornly resist teachers’ best attempts to enhance practice.

Conclusion

In this paper, we addressed the issue of challenges teachers face when learning to facilitate dialog to support authentic game-based learning. Grounded in our work on helping teachers enact the Statecraft X curriculum in social studies, our findings suggest that the key challenges teachers face are not technology centric but practice centric. At its core, the overriding issue rests on competing visions of why students should go to school today. Entrenched schooling practices carried over from the industrial era of mass production work against pedagogical innovation needed to move 21st century learning forward. Caught in the vortex of currents that pull backward to maintain the status quo and currents that pull forward to reform practice, teachers inhabit a dilemmatic space that requires them to respond to situations where the “right” course of action either does not exist or is unattainable to them when situated in the dilemma. Our data suggest that such dilemmas engender stress in the professional lives of teachers. Depending on how teachers respond, these situations may contain the seeds of transformational professional growth or they may hinder teachers from strengthening their professional practice. Challenges engendered by the need to change classroom practice and to redefine relationships with students create obstacles to building capacity for dialogic facilitation. For authentic game-based learning to find traction in classroom teaching and learning, questions concerning the assumptions and purposes of schooling need to be revisited by policy makers and education stakeholders. Will the crust of institutional and social convention continue to engender resistance to change or will insight concerning challenges to teachers’ professional growth surfaced in this paper contribute to foresight for social good? Only time will tell.

Acknowledgements

This work was funded by the Office of Education Research, National Institute of Education, Singapore, under grant OER 02/11 CYS. Views expressed are strictly those of the authors only.

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Biographical statements

Yam San Chee is an Associate Professor in learning sciences and technologies at the National Institute of Education, Singapore. His research interests are in educational philosophy and game-based learning. He is an Associate Editor of the International Journal of Gaming and Computer Mediated Simulations.

Email: yamsan.chee@nie.edu.sg

Website: http://cheeyamsan.info

Swati Mehrotra was a Research Fellow in the Learning Sciences Lab, National Institute of Education, Singapore. She obtained her Ph.D. from the Homi Bhabha Centre for Science Education, India. Her research interests are in teacher professional development, socio-cultural perspectives of learning, and game-based learning.

Jing Chuan Ong worked as a Research Assistant at the National Institute of Education, having graduated from the National University of Singapore with a Bachelor of Social Sciences, specializing in sociology. Her interests relate to youth and education.

Kathryn Grushka, Debra Donnelly & Neville Clement

Published Online: December 15, 2014

Full Text: HTML, PDF

Abstract: Multimedia digital technologies mirror neural processes and capacities and their proliferation introduce new possibilities for learning. Not only does the new digital media have the capacity to instantly record and communicate lifeworld experiences unimpeded by the distance or size of the targeted audience, but offers the means to construct virtual reality environments which were previously beyond human experience. This finds the teacher confronted with a new array of modes and an extended concept of literacy through which to engage the student in learning and meaning making. Digital culture and its multiliteracies now present challenges for the curriculum work of teachers, both in terms of the integration of appropriate technologies and the capitalization of the sensory and memory capacities of students. This article outlines the challenges faced by teachers as they engage in curriculum work that seeks to integrate the capabilities of our new digital culture in the design of learning experiences. It also highlights insights into human capacities for learning offered by neuroscience regarding the interplay of experience, memory, cognition, emotion and reflection in learning. By aligning these strands, teachers can develop curriculum that align with the capabilities of new digital technologies with the capacities of students.

Keywords digital culture and learning, multiliteracies; neuroscience, digital technologies, curriculum, experiential and affective learning

Introduction

New digital technologies, with their multimedia capabilities, are now our social reality. These multimodal devices now shape the ways in which contemporary society makes meaning and communicates. This poses challenges for our conventional understanding of “literacy” as we attempt to incorporate them into curriculum design and practice. In addition, neuroscience provides educators with new insights regarding the role of learning in the formation of brain structures and the role of the classroom experience (Szűcs and Goswami, 2007). Together, these challenges and new discoveries will require the re-examination of curriculum and pedagogical content knowledge.

Not only does new media have the capacity to instantly record and communicate lifeworld experiences unimpeded by the distance or size of the targeted audience, it offers the means to construct virtual reality environments which were previously beyond human experience. Communication, entertainment and availability of information, the emergence of techno-social objects or multi-media devices within communicative practice make possible the emergence of the ‘low-tech cyborg’ (Escobar et al., 1994). The cyborg is defined as ‘hybrid of machine and organism, a creature of social reality’ (Haraway, 1991, p. 141), and student cyborg learning is firmly located in the lived social reality of the learners’ life world and is increasingly gaining a presence in the classroom. The popularity of these multimedia devices has profound implications for our understanding of experience, learning and literacy because of the new possibilities presented by this digital culture. Any expansion in the repertoire of modes and their ‘affordances’ are active in representation practices and shape ‘knowledge’ (see Kress, 2009). This presents new challenges for curriculum design in a digital culture.

Concurrent with this burgeoning of digital culture is the enhanced understanding of the nature of human perception learning and memory provided by the availability neuro-scanning technology. This expanded knowledge of brain functioning provides a further resource on which educators can draw in designing curriculum (Clement & Lovat, 2012; Lovat & Smith, 2003). Of particular interest, in light of the ubiquity of new media with its multimodal capacities, is that human perception and memory are multimodal with memory being a composite “of the sensory and motor activities related to the interaction between the organism and the object during a certain period of time” (Damasio, 2012, p. 133). This reinforces the notion that curriculum work is more than just selecting content to be taught and learned, but entails the careful and intentional design of learning experiences (Lovat & Smith, 2013). Given the nature and reality of an expanding digital culture in learning, this paper explores challenges presented for teachers enacting curriculum as they grapple with the impacts and implication for digital literacy, the emergence of concepts such as edusemiotics (Danesi, 2010) and their impact on teaching and learning. Through an examination of associated literature, it challenges normative assumptions as to what now needs to be regarded as “literacy” in the wake of current technological innovations and capabilities.

Digital technologies and curriculum

The availability and widespread use of small digital devices like smart phones and computer tablets raises issues for teachers designing curriculum as this technology is a new sociocultural phenomenon, able “to combine the material, the social and the symbolic in an associative web” (Budka, 2011, p. 4). Digitization has meant that image, sound and text are now processed similarly by a computer chip. This is unlike the previous analogue systems where each different mode required different rendering processes as in the case of printed text and images (Cope & Kalantzis, 2004) or even other media types as in the case of sound. Jewitt (2008b) proposes that this altered relationship between production and dissemination disrupts the conventions of the relationship between audience and author, as different types of texts proliferate and multiple literacies or different semiotic systems come into play. Furthermore, Jewitt points out that the corollary of these multiliteracies is the multimodal nature of social communication (see Kress, 2013) and argues that communication and meaning making call on a diversity of modes including sound, movement and image, each with its own repertoire of semiotics.

Given the increasing presence and use of multimedia communication devices, literacy is presented as more than learning to read and write in the traditional sense, and now extends to the manipulation, mastery and use of multimedia technologies (Mills, 2010). In addition, these different modes of communication are shaping new sensory capabilities and operate as a personal meaning making apparatus (Buckingham, 2012). As a result, there is an urgent need for teachers to understand how the different perceptual modalities function in relation to learning and memory and how each modality is socially and culturally represented.

Concurrently, technological innovation has seen the development of sophisticated neuroimaging technologies that afford unprecedented knowledge of the architecture and functioning of the brain coinciding with the proliferation of multimedia devices. For example, Gross (2008) points to the coevolution of neuroimaging and the increasing need to draw on the semiotic language of images to create and communicate meaning. Digital imaging technologies now allow opportunities to examine and understand the role and functioning of the sensory modalities in relation to perception and the processing and storage of data at the neuronal level. Any new insights provided by neuroscience regarding the nature of learning, memory and recall have important repercussions for curriculum design in the new digital world. Thus, a trilogy of elements will need to be taken into account to achieve authentic curriculum design for the contemporary educational context, particularly in relation to literacy. The elements include: multimodal media; the expanded repertoire of semiotics potentiated in the use of multimedia; and insights into human perception, learning and memory made possible by neuroscience in dialogue with cognitive science. Using new media in curriculum practice is therefore more than replacing one set of technologies with another. It involves understanding the capacities of the new technologies and matching them to the learner.

New media and curriculum problematized

The evolution of digital literacy curriculum for the 21st century and the incorporation of new media and multiliteracies into curriculum design is a complex task and not just a process of substituting redundant technology with the more recent, for example the replacement of the typewriter with the keypad. Rather teachers’ curriculum planning needs to take account of a divergent range of possibilities introduced by the new technologies and the new knowledge provided by neuroscience. A further problematic presented for curriculum development is the little known influence of the experience of using mobile digital devices on the cognitive development of individual students (See Mann, 2006).

As Lovat and Smith (2003) propose, a curriculum comprises a particular selection of knowledge, activities and experiences chosen and blended by the teacher in order to advance the learning of students. Curriculum development necessarily involves teachers in “selecting, sequencing, organizing and structuring knowledge, resources and activities” (p. 26). According to Lovat and Smith, this process of choosing and combining knowledge, resources and activities in a meaningful way is curriculum work or action and is informed by curriculum theory. Curriculum theory serves as a “linchpin” between the foundational educational disciplines such as psychology, sociology and philosophy, and curriculum practice. Curriculum theory, then, is a synthesis of knowledge derived from the foundational educational disciplines and experience of curriculum in practice as applied in actual learning and teaching situations. Experiences encountered in the practical implementation of teaching may provoke reflection on the adequacy of curriculum theory, which in turn asks questions of the educational disciplines.

New digital technologies challenge the manner in which curriculum work has been done in the recent past. Several key challenges include:

  • The identity and agency of the learner, the explicit link to their cyborg identity (Boyd & Ellison, 2007) represented as individual interactive and communicative technological potential.
  • Digital devices and the media they display extend the resource base of curriculum work.
  • Multimodal learning, or the flexible mixing of verbal and visual text, animation and sound, afforded by contemporary technology impact in unprecedented ways on knowledge representation and a widening of semiotic practices.
  • Digital technologies present an artificial adjunct to memory and can function as a learning prosthesis given their capacity to record experiences in multimedia format in a like manner the human brain.

It was Vygotsky (1978) who observed that humans employ a range of tools to support and extend cognition and memory. Now the capacity of multimedia digital devices to extend human cognitive and memory capacities is beginning to be understood and potentiated. Mills (2010) argues that students generally learn to use multimedia devices in informal situations, but they can benefit from expert scaffolding in their mastery of the media that will extend their knowledge and understanding of “multimodal practice”. It may then be possible to consider how the long-term use of these technologies alters and adapts the mind as part of the very being of the user (Mann, 2006), or builds their preferences and skills in some semiotic systems over others, such as animation over writing.

The dissonance introduced into curriculum work for teachers by the new digital technologies is further informed by the rise of neuroeducation (the considered application of the findings of neuroscience to education, see Geake[2009] and Goswami [2008]). There are several ways in which the influence of neuroscience might be brought to bear on curriculum theory and practice (Clement & Lovat, 2012). One is that neuroscience contributes to the understanding in disciplines like developmental, social and cognitive psychology (e.g., Cacioppo, Berntson, & Decety, 2010; Hruby, 2011; Willingham & Lloyd, 2007) and thereby indirectly contributes to curriculum theory. Another consideration is that neuroscience can be used to inform and modify the cognitive models which are adapted in theories of learning, and so contribute to the interpretation of behavioural data (e.g., Bruer, 2008; De Smedt et al., 2011; De Smedt et al., 2010; Hruby, 2011). Szűcs and Goswami (2007) believe that “mental representations can best be understood by combining behavioural and mental measures” (p. 120). In turn, these cognitive models or mental representations inform curriculum theory and this leads to modified curriculum practice (Butterworth & Laurillard, 2010). This dynamic interdisciplinary interaction portrayed by Butterworth & Laurillard renders the process of delineating the individual contribution of each discipline to curriculum work difficult, if not impossible.

Moreover, the interaction between experience and the neuroplasticity of the brain is of particular interest for curriculum work. Neuroscience has demonstrated that the plasticity of the brain continues throughout the course of a person’s life and that all learning involves, and is made possible through changes in the brain’s neuronal structure (Blakemore & Frith, 2005; Doige, 2008). Willis (2010) describes plasticity as “the ability of neural networks to extend, prune, reorganize, correct or strengthen themselves based on acquiring new information, obtaining corrective feedback, and recognizing associations between new and prior knowledge” (p. 55). It is this adaptability of the brain that makes learning and teaching possible. Neuroeducationalist, John Geake (2009) comments: “Our brains did not evolve to go to school” (p. 12). Furthermore, Goswami (2008) points out that the ability to read is a constructed rather than an innate capacity. Therefore, learning is actuated because of the plasticity of the brain and this is “experience induced” (Diamond & Amso, 2008, p. 136). Neuroplasticity underlies both development (which is experience expectant, where certain experiences are endemic to typical development) and learning (which is experience dependant, Galván, 2010). Thus, memory formation is a function of neuroplasticity.

Having outlined the challenges for curriculum work to teachers presented by (a) the emergence of new multiliteracies, a phenomenon accompanying the proliferation of digital technologies, and (b) the insights into the functioning of the human brain provided by neuroscience, attention now shifts to consider ways by which these challenges are being met in teachers’ curriculum work. What follows is the argument for the need to re-evaluate the nature of teaching and learning given that new media learning experiences and how the student brain has now been significantly shaped by the use of digital devices, and their preferences for and engagement with particular kinds of multimodal learning. This discussion now considers three aspects related to the incorporation of multiliteracies into curriculum work: the evolution of multiliteracies in the current century with the attendant implications for semiotics and knowing; the foregrounding and limitations of attempts to embed technology in curriculum design; and the insights offered by neuroscience into the experiential nature of learning.

The evolution of digital literacy curriculum for the 21st century

Digital technologies and contemporary cultural behaviours have shifted the notion of literacy and expanded the concept beyond the printed text. Added to competency in reading and writing paper text is a set of technological and semiotic understandings and skills (Anstey & Bull, 2004; Cope & Kalantzis, 2009; Kalantzis & Cope, 2012; Knobel & Lankshear, 2007; Kress & Van Leeuween, 2001; Moore, 2011). The term “multiliteracies” conveys the notion that today’s literacy calls for functionality across multiple forms of knowledge and discernment to identify the appropriate social context. As individuals are now deluged with vast quantities of information, an understanding of the constructed nature of texts has become vital as a broad range of platforms need to be evaluated in terms of veracity and reliability (Cazden, Cope, Fairclough, & Gee, 1996). The multiliterate student is able to seamlessly navigate between paper, electronic and live texts and their semiotic systems (Anstey & Bull, 2006; Kress, 2003; Luke, 2003) and they decode, communicate and collaborate to create across platforms.

Print-based models of literacy have been adapted to models of multiliteracies that have merit in that they provide a framework for analysis. However, the approach is a traditional one that sees the learner as interpreting and analysing rather than creating new meanings through new media. A consideration of Four Resource Model (Anstey & Bull, 2006; Muspratt, Luke, & Freebody, 1997) is useful here to illustrate the process is one of decoding, critical and semiotic image analysis as opposed to encoding, or creating new meaning through text production. This model proposes a continuum of four interdependent skills – code breaker, meaning maker, text user and text analysis. Code breaking, is defined as the ability to identify and use the semiotic systems of the electronic, print and live texts and understand how they collaborate. The reader then brings the broad range of literary, cultural, social and technological experiences to interpret and understand the text. The meaning making skill is not the creation of new meaning, but understanding the possible levels of meaning. The text user is able to transfer these skills to real-life situations. By understanding the structure, intent and meaning of texts the text analyst can make judgements about the reliability of the text and come to an understanding of it. This model is a demonstration of the essential initial stage of multiteracies, that of understanding and evaluating text. However, as a model of multiliteracies it is caught in the “physical-industrial mindset” (Gibbons, 2012; Lankshear & Knobel, 2003, 2004), one that views the contemporary world as much the same as the past, except for the addition of technology. This view constructs learning as teacher-directed and “curricular,” that is the learning is pre-determined and officially sanctioned, and learner as consumer rather than producer. As observed by Carrington and Marsh (2005), digitextual practices are blurring these traditional distinctions between writer, reader, producer and consumer and require a complex and sophisticated range of skills, knowledge and understanding. Lankshear and Knobel (2004, p. 16) have defined this “new literacies” as skills of accessing and using technology on various platforms “using and constructing hyperlinks between documents and/or images, sounds, movies, semiotic languages…producing non-linear texts, navigating three-dimensional works online and so on.” New literacies, they argue, require “new learning,” and a “post-physical and post-industrial mindset,” which acknowledges that cyberspace operates on a basis of different assumptions and values from physical space. The student as cyborg employs external prosthetic devices or techno-social objects to communicate with other users on a network of information exchange centred on connectivity (Escobar et al., 1994).

Literacy, and what is to be literate has now become a dynamic concept in the 21st century. It challenges educational systems and teachers to remain relevant to their clients (Kalantzis & Cope, 2012; Leu, Kinzer, Coiro, & Cammack, 2004; Provenzo, Goodwin, & Lipsk, 2011). Kalantzis (2006) has extended the pedagogy of multiliteracies while calling for a reflective epistemology in which agency is re-balanced to empower the learner and teacher/student relationships. This learning is re-configured to construct learning as “a dialogue of difference” (Kalantzis, 2006, p. 31). A transformative approach, where learning is negotiated and co-constructed in a “bottom up” methodology, centred on an enquiry based learning model. Knowledge is understood to be contested, complex and negotiated and values the personalization of learning journey (Deakin Crick, 2009). It encourages critical and self-reflectively understandings achieved through historical, cultural and personal insights. Learners require interactive thinking skills, material experiences and performative practices. “Each meaning maker designs the world afresh…then leaves a representational trace to be found by others and transformed once again” (Kalantzis, 2006, p. 20).

New media and curriculum design

Incorporating new media into curriculum design and practice ushers in a changed paradigm as traditional written texts are now in battle for dominance with the possibilities afforded by new media. The conceptualization of curriculum and literacy as a top down or the reproduction model in western curriculum is no longer appropriate. The living reality is that we have an altered range of semiotic communicative practices and these practices are fluid, co-constructed, mobile, and transnational. They range across epistemological fields and herald the brink of initiating new creative futures where students can initiate authentic learning opportunities that can respond to this new extra-linguistic field of semiotics or edusemiotics (Danesi, 2010). This field includes sign signification, such as aesthetic products, visual communication, new media, advertising, narratives, material culture, film and gaming or other performance based acts such as dance, body movement or drama, anything that is underpinned by sign based activity.

Jewitt (2008a, 2008b) has identified that the representation of knowledge as well as the mode and media are integral to learning. The New Media Consortium (2005) has placed emphasis on the development of 21st century literacy as, “a set of abilities and skills where aural, visual and digital literacy overlap … the ability to understand the power of images and sounds, to recognise and use that power to manipulate and transform digital media, to distribute them pervasively and to easily adapt them to new forms” (p. 2). This will require the development of a much wider range of ways of thinking by teachers about: how students learn; how student brains have already been shaped by new media learning and the significance and power of their individual communication prostheses which equip every student with the capacity to represent meaning using multiple representational forms.

The power of personal mobile digital devices or learning prostheses corresponds to the call for learner-centred pedagogies that move beyond offering simply new technologies. It requires pedagogies that offer students greater levels of agency, social connectedness and autonomy driven by each student’s access and experience of digital technologies. Students as knowledge producers take their digital prostheses into the rich world of daily experience and have already developed knowledge of working in digital communities of inquiry well before formal school. It therefore flows they will reject the learning metaphor of acquisition, as they have already gained insight into the richness of learning through participation, collaboration and/or production (Lloyd, 2013). Curriculum design will need to be underpinned by a range of transformative pedagogies that draw across different disciplines, modes and media to harness the existing multimodal brain development of students. These pedagogies will need to see a focus on creative inquiry and performance; learner-designed learning; inductive and creative modes of reasoning and collaborative problem solving through the iterative stages of inquiry, analysis, production and presentation.

Modern technology tools are driving teaching and learning to an understanding that the generation of new knowledge is grounded in the development of the brain and its inherent plasticity, its cognitive tools and imaginative endeavours. These have added a significant re-emphasis on “trans-disciplinary creativity”. This rethinking of the relationship between technology and creativity (Mishra, 2012) shifts to a more intuitive engagement when learning. Mishra has identified a contradiction in thinking that creative problem solving occurs in-discipline. She argues that having the capacity to work creatively across varied domains implies multimodal learning and will require students to deal with contradictory knowledge and diverse semiotic systems and to develop the skill to break through these boundaries when learning.

With rapid advances and the uptake of the new digital technology the vision of curriculum has lagged (Mishra & Koehler, 2006). Buckingham (2012) argues that teaching and learning has remained relatively untouched by technology while the lives of young people have increasingly become filled with digital devices, asking us to consider a re-emphasis on the significance of situated cognition. In situated cognition, the learning context is perceived as meaningful to the learner and the inquiry is grounded in their lived experiences. Buckingham (2012) advocates for a learning-technology-by-design approach, where the emphasis is placed on becoming a technological practitioner through creating artefacts. This approach applies both to the teacher designer and to the student designer. Creating through design involves critical reflection, problem solving, dialogue, application of technological processes and iterative creative acts. Both teachers and students need to learn through creative use of the technology (Mishra & Yadav, 2013) rather than be just trained in the technologies. As multimodal practitioners, students wishing to work with visual technologies require a repertoire of visual language and related visual digital technologies in addition to the knowledge of how images and other modalities work together in contemporary communication. The complexity of this new learning space may benefit from neuroscience insights.

Experience, learning and multimodality

Neuroscience has extended insights into the processes by which human knowledge is distilled from sensory experience received via the different sensory modalities. Neuroscience has contributed to the understanding of the innate capacities of the learner, the role of reflection in learning, the understanding of memory and the role of emotion in learning. From birth, children have the ability to extract patterns from the environment in their learning of causation and language (Meltzoff, Kuhl, Movellan, & Sejnowski, 2009; also Goswami, 2008). Hence, learning is not simply the reproduction of what is perceived through the senses, but humans come with the capacity to extract concepts from the world they experience. Furthermore, constructive learning involves an alternating pattern between independent states of external focus where information is taken from the external environment, and “constructive internal reflection” where the personal significance of learning, or meaning making emerges (Immordino-Yang, Christodoulou, & Singh, 2012). The implication is that facilitation of learning by the teacher requires recognition of the need for students to alternate between engagement with the external world where the focus is on the information and the internal processes of reflection and meaning making. Curriculum needs to be designed to provide opportunities for critical and reflective thought when using digital technologies and so connect to the lifeworld of the learner.

As Squire and Stark (2008) comment, learning is a process by which neural systems are modified by experience: “Learning is the process by which new information is acquired about the world and memory is the process by which this information can persist across time.” (p. 242). Likewise Sah (2013) observes that:

All learning results from the observation, manipulation and storage of information, and the long-term impact of any learning clearly depends on the efficacy and accuracy of recall. (p. 113)

Additionally, Sah (2013) observes that memory formation is affected by the internal emotional state of an individual as well as the environment in which a person is located. Memory, like perception, is multimodal, rather than being amodal or unimodal (Arnold, 2013; Barsalou, Kyle Simmons, Barbey, & Wilson, 2003; Butler & James, 2011). Moreover, as important as cognition is for learning, it does not function in isolation from emotional and social supports:

Modern biology reveals humans to be fundamentally emotional and social creatures. And yet those of us in the field of education often fail to consider that the high-level cognitive skills taught in schools, including reasoning, decision making, and processes related to language, reading and mathematics do not function as rational, disembodied systems, somehow influenced by but detached from emotion and the body. (Immordino-Yang & Damasio, 2007, p. 3)

According to Arnold (2013) memory is exhibited in two types: affective memory, which is to do with appraisal of good or bad experiences, and modality specific memory such as visual, auditory, sensory and motor memory. Additionally, Arnold explains that conceptual memory, or semantic memory, has to do with meaning, origin, usage and naming of experiences and supplements the other types of memory. Concepts formation is dependent on the other types of memory and is not found in a separate location of the brain, apart from modality specific stored memory. Moreover, as Duncan and Barrett (2007) explain, the separation of affective and cognitive phenomena has no basis on ontological grounds because the psychological distinction between cognition and affect is not reflected in brain architecture. Cognition can regulate and instantiate affect, and in turn, affect participates in cognition. Sensory processes are modulated by “core affect” which “plays a crucial role in all levels of cognitive processing, determining what people are conscious of, how they use and understand language, and what content is encoded and retrieved in memory” (p. 1186). Additionally, it is argued that confidence in facts regarding “the validity of experience… is rooted in core affect” (p. 1023, see also Storbeck & Clore, 2007).

The findings of neuroscience provide insight into the underlying neural structures that support human perception, the way in which experience is coded and stored for future recall and the capacity to assimilate new experience and learning into memory. Furthermore, the work of researchers such as Immordino-Yang and Damasio (2007), Duncan and Barrett (2007) and Sah (2013) emphasise that cognition and memory are not phenomena that can be isolated from affect and the social context. Additionally, both perception and memory are multimodal (Arnold, 2013; Barsalou et al., 2003; Butler & James, 2011). Memory recall involves both content and context and therefore includes the accompanying sensory and motor experiences (Damasio, 2012). It follows that the particular modalities foregrounded by multimedia will shape learner experiences and learner preferences, such as film or the moving image over written text.

Multimodality, then, is part of the way that humans perceive, make meaning from and store and recall knowledge relating to their experience and action in the world. Multiliteracies present a corollary to these aspects of human nature by asking how formal learning might be advanced by incorporating into curriculum practice the presentation of information in a variety of modes (to use the distinction between mode [the form of presentation] and modality [the senses that receive the information]) as proposed by Moreno and Mayer (2007). Hence, there are two aspects of multiliteracies relevant to the discussion of their use in a new digitally focused education. One is the appropriate and effective use of multiliteracies, that is, the combining of two or more modes of experiences in order to advance student knowledge in curriculum work (Moreno & Mayer, 2007). The other is to do with encouraging student agency by advancing their understanding and competence in their ability to deconstruct their everyday encounters with multimedia, and, in turn, increase their understanding, proficiency and creativity in their use of multimedia (Albers & Harste, 2007).

Discussion

Issues raised by the ever increasing presence of digital culture and multimedia literacies in education invite questions around the role of experience in education and the representation of knowledge, and such questions are by no means new. In 1938, Dewey published Experience and Education in which he argued that the quality of the design of learning experiences by teachers has implications for the quality of learning on the part of students. Dewey’s argument was that high quality learning was most likely to occur when students intentionally interacted with their environment and were able to deconstruct, reconstruct and reflect upon what they encountered and observed (see also, Dewey, 1933).

High quality learning finds the active student engaging in experimenting with problem-solving strategies increasingly accessed via digital communication, rather than being a passive consumer of information. For Dewey, high-level cognitive engagement and motivation to learn could only arise from appropriately structured learning environments where the student was recognized as an active learner and meaning maker. Knowledge of the type that would underpin purposive action could not be gained though second-hand transmission. When Dewey spoke of experiential learning he had in mind a certain quality of learning experience, whether formal or informal, that becomes grist for learning. In other words, students are active learners and that learning is an active response to the digital culture with which they interact. As Mishra (2012) points out, technology must facilitate and not encumber the learning process.

Dewey’s insights were the product of his own observation and reflection of learning behaviour, and are remarkably perceptive especially in the light of recent advances in neuroscience that have observed the impact of the environment (both physical and social) on brain plasticity and development (Diamond, 2007, 2009; Diamond & Amso, 2008; Goswami, 2008). Work such as that of Diamond (2007, 2009; Diamond & Amso, 2008) emphasizes the reality of the gene-environment interaction in human development. The role of experience in learning and subsequently the multisensory nature of learning is reiterated by the neuroeducationalist Usha Goswami (2008). Szűcs and Goswami (2007) go so far as to suggest that: “education involves the shaping of individual brains via targeted experience in the classroom (‘teaching’)” (p.114). This insight accentuates the importance of teachers’ work in designing curriculum that will be the reality encountered by students in their formal education (see Lovat & Smith, 2003). In line with Lovat and Smith teachers/educators need to be cognizant of the increasingly digital culture of the classroom, the complex nature of curriculum work and the need to factor in the innate and developed capacities of their cyborg students.

This article has sought to identify and explore issues related to the increasing pervasiveness of digital culture and the virtual world manifested through the increasing availability of multimedia technologies in small digital devices. It attempts to advance the discussion of the implications of these technologies and the use of multimedia in teachers’ enactment of curriculum. Framing the curriculum implications is Lovat and Smith’s (2003) notion of curriculum work which typifies it as a series of decisions that teachers/educators make regarding the content, processes and resources to be coalesced to produce engaging learning experiences. This requires teachers to have a level of mastery of the technology (Mishra, 2012) and to have an awareness of student capacities, interests and capabilities (Lovat & Smith, 2003) to aid student learning rather than these being solely used for entertainment purposes.

Curriculum design is not about the foregrounding of digital technologies but the pedagogical decisions about the interaction between modes, instructional method and sensory modalities in relation to solving problems, building concepts and selecting representational forms with which to communicate. The above can only be effective in action if there is acknowledgment of the role of the affect in cognition and in deconstructing and reconstructing ideas and information. This becomes increasingly more challenging when working with the digitally active and virtually stimulated learner who responds with the speed and complexity afforded by the digital experience. In the past these decisions have come second to content and teacher selected technologies. Furthermore, creativity and technology must be taught together and not in isolation, because creativity cannot function apart from mastery of the medium through which creativity finds expression (Mishra, 2012; Mishra & Yadav, 2013). Mishra (2012), citing the work of Root-Bernstein (1996), points out that although creativity is manifested within the discipline areas, the thinking or cognitive skills that underlie creative thinking are similar across disciplines. According to Root-Bernstein (1996) creativity is at the basis of cross-discipline thinking, with imaginative thinkers being able to translate ideas from one discipline to another. Additionally, recent psychological and neurological research affirms the place of creativity in education and its essential role in the preservation of future generations. Creativity underpins the capacities of individuals to adapt and invent for survival and the enrichment of our cultures and society (Zeki, 2001). The new digital and multimedia technologies present challenges to conventional boundaries between the various discipline areas and point to the fact that knowledge is seamless and transcends artificial boundaries. Hence, the question is raised: What influences do these prosthetic devices have on cognitive development, memory systems and mind modification (Mann, 2006) as well as personal meaning making?

Coinciding with the challenge accompanying the emergence of contemporary multimedia technology is the exponential increase in the knowledge of and understanding of the functioning of the human brain. In particular, brain plasticity and its inherent ability to restructure itself in development and learning. This restructuring is in response to experience, the synergy between cognition and emotion, and the nature and functioning of memory. All of the above are of interest because they add to the understanding of the use of multiliteracies and multimedia as they are applied in curriculum.

Curriculum work needs to be cognizant of an array of factors in relation to the design of learning environments and experiences. Teachers need to design lessons being aware of the interaction of modes or media, the instructional method and multimodality (Moreno, 2006; Moreno & Mayer, 2007). Multimodal learning is not a recent phenomenon but is used by civilizations both ancient and modern; however the media or mode of presentation varies according to the technologies used (Spivey, 2005). Moreover, it is obvious from Spivey’s commentary that these multimodal presentations, regardless of the technology involved, engage multiple senses, perception, affect, memory, problem solving, communicative purpose and performative acts. The benefits of an expanding digital learning culture and multimodal learning is that it strengthens the neural fibres between the different areas of the brain and stimulus of a single modality activates stored information of multiple modalities, but further research is needed to establish whether this represents “stronger learning” (Goswami, 2008, p. 390). Nevertheless, the evidence Goswami cites indicates that multimodal learning does influence brain structure, strengthening connections between various areas of the brain. Further research will need to address the impact of the digital memory prosthesis on the brain development of the learner. Consequently, if multimodal learning stimulates brain plasticity in different ways, then, what are the implications for curriculum?

Motivation, engagement and learning are dependent on the interplay between affect and cognition. The fine line between real world digital practices, entertainment, engagement and active constructed learning is present in the decision making of all teachers. To reduce the function of multimedia in curriculum work to that of entertainment is to miss the observation of Dewey (1938/1963) that learning requires the active engagement of learners in problem solving. One question that teachers need to hold in mind in curriculum design is: How do we actively design problem creating and problem solving learning in a digitally driven curriculum? Research needs to be carried out into the epistemological outcomes of working across modalities. In addition, are there benefits for learners when they engage in problem-solving and production via their preferred modality?

Conclusion

Given the nature and reality of digital culture with new media pervading daily life, this paper has explored some of the challenges presented for teachers’ designing and enacting curriculum as they grapple with the impacts and implications for digital literacy and hence teaching and learning in contemporary educational settings. It has plotted the trilogy of elements that need to be taken into account in curriculum design. Learning in a digital culture with and through new multiliteracies requires: multimodal media; the expanded repertoire of semiotics that accompany the new digital devices; and insights into human perception, learning and memory afforded by cognitive science and neuroscience. Additionally, it has argued that curriculum design is not about the foregrounding of technologies but the pedagogical decisions about the interaction between modes, instructional method and sensory modalities in relation to solving problems, building concepts and selecting representational forms with which to communicate. This is affirmed by the research that clearly articulates that human perception is multisensory as is the encoding, storage and recall of this experience. In other words, human perception and memory are by their very nature multimodal and digital prostheses replicate human functioning.

Multimedia technologies continue to have uptake across all generations and proliferate society. They have become more intuitive, sophisticated and developed in ways that mirror the neural processes and capacities that constitute learning. Hence, the teacher is confronted with a new array of modes through which to engage the student in learning and meaning making. Learners require interactive thinking skills, material experiences and performative practices (Kalantzis, 2006; Kalantzis & Cope, 2012). This interactive thinking encourages critical and self-reflective understandings achieved through historical, cultural and personal insights. Creating through digital design is a student-centred learning by doing approach. Such an approach supports the constructivist ideas about learning and communicating knowledge over the traditional transmission model. It concludes that pedagogies that have the most chance of success are those that take into account the synergy between cognition and affect, and are aware of the strengths, limitations of the complex nature of memory. The research favours attention to the affective and collaborative aspects of learning, capacities scaffolded by digital devices. In the classroom this would see students orientating their inquiry from a personal perspective, sharing and collaborating with others in order to discover the relational aspects of the learning and selecting and building fluency in a range of semiotic systems. In the end, engaging students through multimodal learning comes back to the teacher’s depth of discipline knowledge, and their expertise, creativity and fluency in the use of media devices to represent knowledge and the ability to explicitly teach these skills and insights to their students. Furthermore, the teachers’ ability to utilize their adaptive capacity to shift their pedagogies for their learners and scaffold skill development in new technologies through observation of student skills and interests is important to successful learning.

Contemporary learning situations see teachers faced with the question of how to deal with the rapid shift to a digital learning culture and the creation and implementation of curriculum that harnesses and incorporates the potential of the new technologies. A conversation with neuroscience regarding the interplay of experience, memory, cognition, emotion and reflection in learning may support the development of curriculum that matches the capabilities of the new technologies with the capacities of students.

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Biographical Statements

Dr Kathryn Grushka is a nationally recognised Visual Arts & Design Educator, visual art education researcher, curriculum writer and artist. Kathryn is known especially for her work on the performative role of artmaking, imaginative becoming, reflective practice, adaptive knowledge and transformative learning. In teaching and learning Kathryn’s research is centred on ensuring the most explicit links between research insights into cognition, embodied visual knowing and subjectivity insights and has led to a growing interest in digital learning and visual cognition, critical and performative pedagogies, knowledge as visual representations. Kathryn currently sits on international and national editorial teams for art and teacher education journals.

Contact: kath.grushka@newcastle.edu.au

Dr Debra Donnelly is a history educator in the School of Education at the University of Newcastle, Australia, lecturing and co-ordinating undergraduate and postgraduate programs. Dr Donnelly’s research interests centre on the role of the visual and media in the development of historical and global consciousness in an age of ever-increasing access through modern technology. This has led to the current interest in the impact of digital culture on teaching and curriculum and the role of image making in the exploration, communication and disruption of knowledge.

Dr Neville Clement is a researcher working in the School of Education at the University of Newcastle, Australia. He is current research interests are in values in education, epistemic cognition and the implications of neuroscience for education. Articles he has co-authored have appeared in the Oxford Review of Education, the Cambridge, Journal of Education, the Australian Journal of Teacher Education, and Curriculum Inquiry. Also, he has co-edited International Research Handbook on Values Education and Student Wellbeing (Springer, 2010) and co-authored Values Pedagogy and Student Achievement (Springer, 2011).

Rowan Tulloch

Published Online: December 15, 2014

Full Text: HTML, PDF

Abstract: Gamification is a complex and controversial concept. It has been both embraced as a marketing and education revolution, and dismissed as practice of exploitation. Contested within the debate around gamification has been the very concept of what a game is, what the core mechanics of games are, and whether gamification truly mobilises these core mechanics. This paper will challenge the foundation of this debate through reconceptualising gamification not as a simple set of techniques and mechanics, but as a pedagogic heritage, an alternative framework for training and shaping participant behaviour that has at its core the concepts of entertainment and engagement.  In doing so it will recontextualise current practices of gamification into a longer and deeper history, and suggest potential pathways for more sophisticated gamification in the future.

Keywords: Gamification, exploitationware, play, pedagogy, game mechanics, engagement

Introduction

There is understandable unease amongst many games studies academics and game designers about the concept of gamification. This awkward neologism used to describe any range of processes whereby game mechanics are integrated into traditionally non-game tasks, has become a favoured buzzword of marketers, online strategists, start-up gurus, venture capitalists and digital consultants. Many within gaming circles have become rightly sceptical of the hype surrounding gamification. The frequent predictions of gamification’s ‘power to change the world’ have led many to outright dismiss this emerging practice, and others to be highly critical of underlying ethicality and effectiveness. For many game designers and game studies academics it seems that gamification is a temporary distraction, a passing fad, that adds little to the discussion of ‘proper’ gaming. Indeed for some gamification is a perversion and misunderstanding of the core principles of game design. In this paper I will suggest that whilst a healthy scepticism is necessary to balance the techno-evangelist fervour of many gamification advocates, a rigid rejection of all facets of gamification is reductionist and indeed reveals some highly problematic assumptions underpinning contemporary models of gaming. I challenge the reading of gamification as a misapplication of game design practices and demonstrate that many of the current critiques of gamification operate on a false binary between core game play mechanics and inessential feedback. I will show this division to be, not only flawed, but ultimately counterproductive not just for gamification but for game studies and game design more broadly.

In this paper I will offer a conceptualisation of gamification, not as set of techniques or technologies, but as an academic discipline and theoretical heritage. I will argue that gamification is not simply a recent marketing trend but rather a product of an overlooked history of pedagogic refinement, a history of training that is effective, but largely ignored: the process of games teaching players how to play. In particular gamification can be seen as an extension of the mechanisms and principles through which video games teach complex tasks that players are not innately familiar with; tasks players need to learn. By looking at the way in which games train players into certain practices of play this paper will attempt to resituate all gaming as a pedagogically constructed act and create a new discourse for understanding gamification. I will argue that video games are sophisticated pedagogic systems that train players into performing difficult tasks through innovative and highly developed means, and they do all this whilst maintaining player interest and engagement. Likewise gamification is always about pedagogy, whether it is designed to train profitable consumers, obedient and efficient workers, healthy citizen, or knowledgeable students, its goal is to produce and shape subjects and subjectivities. As such gamification should be understood, not as a radical new commercial or educational application of game design principles, but rather as continuation of a long ludic pedagogic heritage. Understanding gamification this way not only helps us recognize the real relationship between the current practices of gamification and more traditional forms of play, but it also suggests new and more sophisticated ways gamification can be enacted in the future.

A History of Gamification

To understand the problems with the existing framings of gamification one must first look at the history of the term, the popular definitions that have circulated, and crucially the controversies that have emerged. It is a complex history where debate occurs across, and between, a range of different disciplines all seeking to discursively construct gamification in their own ways, to legitimise their approach or to defend their conceptual territory. Rather than offer a comprehensive review of all gamification literature, this paper will focus on a small number of crucial pieces of work that have functioned to define (or critique) the concept of gamification. This is not a complete account of the definitions and debates, but is illustrative of the underlying issues and tensions that need resolving.

The term gamification is relatively recent one. It was first used by in 2002 by Nick Peeling (Marczewski, 2012: 3) a programmer and consultant who used it to describe his idea that electronics manufacturers could improve their products by building on the lessons learnt by the games industry. Its current meaning however is even more recent. In 2008 Bret Terril from Zynga games used the term to describe “taking game mechanics and applying them to other web properties to increase engagement.” (Terrill, 2008). Yet it wasn’t until 2010 that the term gained widespread usage. The precise definition of the term however is still highly debated, with the different overlapping disciplines surrounding gamification: game studies, marketing, human-computer interaction, game design, etc. all offering variants on the theme (cf. Fitz-Walter et al., 2011, Huotari  & Hamari, 2011, Nicholson 2012, Zichermann & Linder, 2010).

One of the most widely cited definition comes from Deterding et al. who state that “‘gamification’ is the use of game design elements in non-game contexts” (2012, 10). This definition, whilst simple, contains a number of key attributes that differentiate gamification from other similar pedagogic and ludic processes. Deterding et al. are precise in their choice of language in this definition.  They distinguish between games and play, arguing gamification is based on the former which is more structured and formal, not the latter, which is more loosely defined, freeform, and improvisational (Deterding et al, 2012: 11). Their use of the term ‘element’ reflects that gamification does not employ “fully-fledged games” for non-entertainment purposes (as opposed to serious gaming) but rather it mobilises small components of a game experience (Deterding et al, 2012: 11-12). They also seek to define what they mean by design (interface design patterns; game design patterns or game mechanics; design principles, heuristics or ‘lenses’; conceptual models of game design units and game design methods and design processes) and ‘non-game contexts’: any situation where the user has no cultural expectation of a game experience (Deterding et al, 2012: 12-13). This definition is representative of the standard frame through which much of gamification is understood.

The strength, and weakness, of the Deterding et al. definition is that it is abstracted from the specificities of gamification. This broad approach means they are not proposing an overly simplified account of the practice, but it also means they do not attempt to articulate or categorise the kinds of game design elements that are employed in gamification, nor the kinds of non-game contexts in which the elements are often employed. This approach functions well to produce a non-controversial definition, but is less useful as a means of understanding the details and realities of the processes of gamification, leading other gamification theorists to seek less abstract accounts.

One notable alternative definition that addresses the specificities of gamification practice comes from Gabe Zichermann (2011). Zichermann, a leading gamification proponent, seeks to go beyond generalities and highlight the actual practices and purposes of gamification. He argues that:

Gamification can be thought of as using some elements of game systems in the cause of a business objective. It’s easiest to identify the trend with experiences (frequent flyer programs, Nike Running/Nike+, or Foursquare) that feel immediately game-like. The presence of key game mechanics, such as points, badges, levels, challenges, leaderboards, rewards, and onboarding, are signals that a game is taking place. (Zichermann, 2011)

Where the definition offered by Deterding et al. lacks specifics, Zichermann’s articulation pinpoints precise game mechanics that are being used and the purpose behind the process. Whilst his assertion that gamification functions in the ‘cause of a business objective’ ignores non business uses of gamification such as in the educational and health spheres (so is far from a universal framing), his emphasis on mechanics such as points, badges, levels, challenges, leaderboards, rewards, and onboarding is reflective of, and corresponds to a significant portion of broader gamification literature. Indeed a strong emphasis has been placed on the integral nature of these mechanisms to the process of gamification by many theorists (for example: Fitz-Walter et al., 2011, Huotari & Hamari, 2012, Muntean, 2011, Nicholson, 2012, Paharia, 2011). Likewise a survey of leading gamification service and application such as Badgeville, Bigdoor Media, Bunchball, FourSquare, and MyTown also reveals that these mechanics are crucially important to the dominant conventions of gamification. However whilst Zichermann’s emphasis on points, badges, levels, challenges, leaderboards, rewards, and onboarding is far from unusual, it is not without debate.

Critiques of Gamification

Alongside, and in response to, the popular positioning of such features as points, badges and levels as central to gamification theory and practice, has been a growing resistance to what is seen as a simplistic conflation of these mechanics with the concept of gaming. The notion that mobilising these mechanics transforms something into a game has been significantly critiqued. Indeed Zichermann’s definition has been a focal point for critique.

One of the most important critiques of gamification generally, and Zichermann specifically, comes from media theorist and game designer Ian Bogost. Bogost’s ‘Pervasive Games: Exploitationware’ (2012) neatly encapsulates, and informs, the key debates occurring around gamification, and articulates some significant objections to the process. In particular Bogost takes issue with gamification’s uses of points, level, badge, and similar mechanisms, and the assumption that these things are what makes a game a game. This is part of Bogost’s broader critique of the depiction of gamification as being game-like. Bogost challenges the rhetorical framing of gamification, even critiquing the term itself, arguing that it should in fact be more properly termed ‘exploitationware’. Bogost argues that the term gamification mobilises a specific discursive construction to legitimate an exploitative use of minor game mechanisms to control and dictate ‘player’ behaviour. For Bogost the terms gamification and gamify function to normalise and hide the sinister nature of the process. The combination of the word game: with its ‘mysterious power’ to captivate and enthral, with the suffix ‘ify’: which implies an ease and straightforward application, suggest that to gamify something is a simple and unproblematic task (Bogost, 2012). Bogost fundamentally disagrees with this, he suggests that creating a game is anything but simple and in using the term gamification, and in the practices it embodies, gamification proponents have misunderstood the very basics of what a game is.

Bogost aligns himself with critics of gamification who argue that:

gamification mistakes games’ secondary properties for their primary ones. It insults and violates games. It confuses the magical magnetism of games for simplistic compulsion meted out toward extrinsic incentives. (Bogost, 2012)

Indeed he furthers this argument, positing that gamification takes only the most superficial and insignificant elements of games and assumes that it is all there is to gaming, through a detailed rejection of Zichermann (whom he refers to as “the gamification movement’s Dark Lord”) and his aforementioned conceptualisation of gamification where “key game mechanics, such as points, badges, levels, challenges, leaderboards, rewards, and onboarding” are used, Bogost argues:

Note how deftly Zichermann makes his readers believe that points, badges, levels, leader boards, and rewards are ‘key game mechanics.’ This is wrong, of course — key game mechanics are the operational parts of games that produce an experience of interest, enlightenment, terror, fascination, hope, or any number of other sensations. Points and levels and the like are mere gestures that provide structure and measure progress within such a system.

For Bogost there is the belief that the gamification movement has missed the important elements of games and chosen just to focus on the trivial, the veneer of the game rather than its core qualities, signifying systems, not the gameplay itself. For Bogost the use of the word ‘game’ in the term gamification is misleading as it the mechanics of gamification have little to do with the experience of playing games.

Bogost is not alone in his argument, gamification critic Alan Chroney (2012) offer a similar perspective when he claims:

Gamification entrepreneurs will say they are using “techniques that game designers [have] used for years to motivate behaviour – points, badges, levels, high score tables and virtual goods”  (Paharia, 2011).  The truth is that these techniques are not core characteristics of video games, nor are they exclusive to video game design.  In reality, gamification strips games of their essential characteristic: content, and replaces it with a brand. (Chorney, 2012: 3)

Chorney here is just as dismissive of gamification as Bogost, and like Bogost he sees it as an exploitative practice looking to target the unsuspecting with mechanisms designed to make a commercial endeavour look like an entertainment experience (Chorney, 2012: 3).

Likewise fellow critic Margaret Robertson argues that:

[The] problem being that gamification isn’t gamification at all. What we’re currently terming gamification is in fact the process of taking the thing that is least essential to games and representing it as the core of the experience. Points and badges have no closer a relationship to games than they do to websites and fitness apps and loyalty cards. They’re great tools for communicating progress and acknowledging effort, but neither points nor badges in any way constitute a game. (Robertson, 2010)

Whilst Robertson is somewhat less damning in her condemnation of gamification than Bogost or Chorney, she believes the essential idea is one with potential but that current examples of gamification that rely of giving points as a reward are misguided. She suggests that gamification designers are actually self-deluded, they don’t understand games enough to understand what they are doing:

Gamification is an inadvertent con. It tricks people into believing that there’s a simple way to imbue their thing (bank, gym, job, government, genital health outreach program, etc.) with the psychological, emotional and social power of a great game.

For Roberston, contemporary gamification would be better off termed ‘pointsification’ because it about points rather than gaming. She ends her argument by stating that “Games are good, points are good, but games ≠ points.” (Robertson, 2010).

What we can see then is two broad schools of thought when it comes to gamification. One which believes that mechanisms such as points, level, badges and achievements, can function to produce a game like experience in a non-game context. The other, which sees the mechanics as secondary to true gaming, and as such disputes the current framing of gamification and indeed the very validity of the terminology.

Reconceptualising Games

This debate highlights the problematic nature of the term gamification and the need to reconceptualise it in a more sophisticated way. However the solution is not as simple as re-terming gamification exploitationware, or even pointsification. The debate around defining gamification has ultimately been a debate about defining games and as such it is only by producing a more expansive understanding of games that we can better conceptualise what is occurring (and could occur) with gamification.

This debate is an argument over what the fundamental core features of games are, and what features are ancillary, inessential or insignificant. This kind of discussion is not new; well before the term gamification was coined the definition of the term game was being actively contested. Indeed much of the early scholarship in the game studies discipline was devoted to exploring this issue (cf. Aarseth, 2001, Eskelinen, 2001, Juul, 2005, Salen and Zimmerman, 2004), and before that it was a philosophical question explored by authors ranging from Caillois (1961), Huizinga (1955), Suits (1978), and Wittgenstein (1953). As with past debates around the characterisation of games (for example the ludology versus narratology debate that dominated game studies in the early 2000s, (Aarseth 2004, Murray, 2005)), the gamification debate demonstrates a need to move beyond rigid definitions and terminology to advance our conceptual understandings. This debates, as with those that have preceded it, emerges from different disciplinary framings, and different conceptual goals.

The model Zichermann, and his fellow likeminded gamification proponents are offering is a reductive reading of what a game is when they conflate gaming with points, levels, badges, etc. This is problematic as it ignores the potential sophistication and true complexity of the form. Yet for these gamification advocates the model has significant utility, it offers easy to understand concepts that can be applied to a wide range of contexts. As such it also functions to make gamification a concept that is easily explainable to those not versed in the nuance of gaming.

Likewise for critics of gamification their framing of the debate functions to affirm their own theoretical territory, i.e. they seek to narrow what is understood as a game and as such keep it part of the domain of traditional game designers and theorists. However, in doing so, the critics of gamification ultimately oversimplify their own object of study. The critiques offered by Bogost, Chorley and to lesser extent Robertson fall into a reductionist trap when conceptualising what a game is. As with any definition that seeks to identify and differentiate between primary and secondary game elements it inherently seeks to marginalise and discount the power of the so-called secondary elements. In marginalising mechanism like points and levels these theorists (just like those they are critiquing) miss the complexity of games, particularly in terms of pedagogy.

Bogost in particular has painted only a partial picture of the game experience to further his argument. What Bogost ignores when he dismisses such mechanics as points and levels is the ludic function of these elements and crucially it is in this ludic function that we see the core, not only of gamification, but of all gaming. Games function through pedagogy. Far from being “mere gestures that provide structure and measure progress” (Bogost, 2012) these elements are intrinsically important components of the play experience. Points and levels are reflective of the basic pedagogic structures in games that train players into ‘correct’ behaviour. They are not an afterthought for designers or players but part of the informational schema that shapes the act of play. The gamification movement, and its advocates like Zichermann may not fully acknowledge the complexity of the pedagogic systems modern games use, but they at least recognise the power of games to teach, Bogost does not acknowledge this in his critique of gamification.

Games and Pedagogy

Almost all play functions through teaching the player the rules. With most forms of traditional play, this is a straightforward task, rules are often listed in an instruction booklet, on the box, or taught verbally. The player learns these rules, so that they can successfully participate in the game. In video games this process can be somewhat more complex because the rules are often not made explicit. Yet video games ask players to engage in unfamiliar worlds, perform tasks and understand logics of which they have little or no prior skill (from being soldiers in warzones, to criminal outlaws, commanding vast army and empires, to piloting planes) these are not skills players simply have naturally, these are skills that need to be learned, and consequently that games need to teach. Games therefore have to train the player into the ‘correct’ practices of play, these are the strategies needed to participate in and succeed at the game (Friedman, 1999; Galloway, 2006; Tulloch, 2014). Video games do this because they need players to play in specific ways: in order to create a certain experience, tell a certain story, or even just to be manageable to the computer system and the limited design resources. For game designers it is essential for players to learn and perform the correct play practices and strategies, so that their game experience can align with designer intent, and so the player can progress through the world that has been created. Games thus rely on training player to perform the tasks in specific ways. They allow the player a certain degree of agency but this agency is within boundaries that the game system can handle. At the core of game design therefore is training and games mobilise sophisticated training techniques, both overt and subtle that shape player behaviours and standardise them.

Amid all the definitions of gaming that have been proposed few however emphasise the pedagogic aspect. One theorists who does, however, is game designer Raph Koster. In his 2003 Austin Games Conference keynote (the origin of his ideas in his acclaimed book A Theory of Fun for Game Design (2003a) Koster argues that:

“all games are edutainment. Some games teach spatial relationships. Some games teach you to explore. Some games teach you how to aim precisely.” (Koster, 2003b: 19 – 22)

Koster’s focus is both on the ways games teach the player to play and how they teach broader skills that are applicable beyond games. He argues that the enjoyment of games, the fun, comes from the process of learning and mastery, and that once the player has learnt all they can from a game, once it is mastered it stops being fun.  Koster’s Theory of Fun for Game Design is, however, as the name suggests an exploration of the concept of fun, not a thorough account of the mechanisms through which games teach their players and despite the influence of Koster’s work, those who have built on his ideas tend to focus on fun rather than the mechanics of learning. Frameworks like the popular ‘8 Kinds of Fun’ (Hunicke et al. 2004) have developed through and alongside Koster’s work, whilst the mechanisms of training has been far less explored. Beyond Koster the way in which games, particularly video games, train players, is largely ignored or overlooked. Whilst this is unfortunate in the broad context of contemporary debates around the video game medium, as it closes of a useful avenue for exploration, it is disastrous for discussion of gamification, as it denies a fundamental heritage and an opportunity to develop the practice. Indeed it is only because, theorists like Bogost ignore the training process in games that they can make the claim that points and levels are secondary game elements. Whilst Bogost is correct to question the simplistic conflation from many proponents of gamification of games with points systems, levels (games are a lot more than just these elements) these elements need to be understood as part of the process of training. Points and levels are (basic) examples of two of the most important training schemas in video games: ‘numerical signifiers’ and ‘progression’. Far from being secondary these elements allow games to offer the complex and unfamiliar experiences they do.

Numerical Signifiers

Bogost’s dismissal of points as simply a system that provides structure and measures progress (2012) underestimates the complex role points play in gaming. More precisely, in seeing the measurement of progress as an unimportant process Bogost is ignoring the feedback loop at the centre of the game/player relationship. In many games points do measure progress, but in doing so they are providing constant corrective feedback to player on their play strategies. Players know they have achieved well, i.e. played successfully within the privileged norms of the game, if they receive a large number of points or achieve a high score. Points are not just a record of achievement, as Bogost implies, but a signifier of correct play practice. Points in this context are far from a secondary property, they are absolutely primary to the construction of the play experience; without them players would have significantly fewer indicators of how they should approach the game.

Not all games use points of course, and this is perhaps the thinking underlying Bogost’s resistance to understanding them as a key gaming mechanic. However whilst many video games and genres thrive without the use of a points mechanic, nearly all use a comparable system for signalling correct play practices. One such example that is perhaps more prevalent than points is ‘health’ and ‘lives’. A vast number of video games rely on health as the key mechanism of player challenge (to succeed you have to learn to stay alive), but also the core mechanic of game training. A player knows they have done the wrong thing if they lose health or die. Injury to the player character is an unambiguous signifier of incorrect action in the game. Whilst the injury is in no way ‘real’ or physical this informational schema resonates on a powerful cultural and biological level; players know without being told that they want to avoid injury and death for their character. The scale of the injury that happens in the game also often functions to inform the player how incorrectly they have performed. It shows them the magnitude of ‘improvement’ to skills or tactics required: a small loss of health requires a minor refinement, whereas death of the main character may suggest a significant correction is needed. Game genres vary as to how they represent this numerical data, some do this through actual visible numerical systems like health as a percentage, and others use graphs and charts (fighting games for example nearly universally have player health a bar graph at the top of the screen). Regardless however of the means of representation the function is the same, it shapes player behaviour by punishing deviation or transgression through virtual violence and injury and as such is integral to the act of play.

Other examples of numerical systems used to signify correct (and incorrect) play include virtual money, experience points, time remaining and even the number of military units available. Numerical feedback is so popular because it functions effectively in this role as it is easy to interpret and understand, minor increases and decreases are easy to observe and quantify. Games designers employ these different numerical systems in different game settings to appear as natural and normal parts of the gameworld (most games try not to draw attention to their pedagogic mechanism, to avoid spoiling immersion or potentially fostering resistance and counterplay) but underpinning them all is the same function: numerical signifiers give players real-time feedback on how well they are doing in the game, and to help them refine their technique in order to succeed.

Points are one of the most basic examples of numerical signifiers. Indeed as games have got more complex designers have found it necessary to move beyond these simple mechanisms, points are far less common in current games than they once were. As prominent features of 70s, 80s and 90s gaming, they (along with levels, discussed below) are often seen as, or used to designate ‘retro’ in contemporary gaming. One of the problems with point is their lack of flexibility, they are unusual within signifying numerical systems because they (commonly) only increase; they cannot be lost or traded or used as currency. Alternatives signifiers to points like the aforementioned health, money, experience points, and units often require the player to sacrifice, or risk sacrificing, in order to progress. For example, in a first person shooter the player may need to assess the probable cost in health of a sprint through an enemy infested room, versus a methodical targeting of all enemies. Such evaluations force the player to reflect carefully both on their own abilities, and on the basic rules and logics of the game. Such systems thus have a double pedagogic value, where points just reward correct actions, other more complex numerical systems like health function not only as a signifier but also a catalyst for reflection and deeper engagement. In this way points are a far less sophisticated and often less power numerical signifier. They are however not secondary elements, when used they are key to the teaching of correct play practices.

Progression

Bogost is as dismissive of levels as he is of points, but like point, levels are an example of a crucial process to the game play experience. Indeed levels function in a near identical way to points, they operate as markers of progression, and progression is another key signifier of correct action in a game. In this case rather than success being depicted numerically it is depicted through spatial, narrative or achievement schemas. Players know they are playing correctly when they make it to the next level. Again this is simple but crucial pedagogic mechanism in video gaming. Progress is fundamental to all games, and in the vast majority is clearly marked. This is one key reason (apart from technical limitations) levels have been such a popular design trope in gaming, by splitting the game experience into discrete sections the player can clearly see their progress, they can self-monitor their performance, and reflect on which strategies have been successful and which have failed.

Progression again works clearly as an unambiguous signifier because it is culturally familiar, we expect an entertainment form to progress, to build to move on, be it book, film, TV show or video game we are accustomed to our entertainment developing and advancing. Our desire for new experience also pushes us through a game, seeking progress, willing to take on the required play practices in order to progress.

However much like points, levels are increasingly falling out of favour with game designers. There are many reasons for this including improved technological affordance making dividing game into discrete levels less necessary, but there are more complex reasons as well. One such reason is that levels force a degree of linearity on a game. If a player moves through the game level by level then the progression, whilst easy to understand, leaves the player little choice or agency. As many games embrace non-linear stories and worlds, level become a less useful marker of progression. Other markers of progression are thus employed in these circumstances such as levelling up character skills, unlocking items, attaining achievement badge and trophies, weapons, moves, or perhaps most commonly moving the narrative forward. These system allow for the variability in play styles and interest whilst still offering clear signification of progress. They are more compatible with a gaming system that gives the player a degree of autonomy and self-direction. As such, they are useful as pedagogic tools as they encourage the player to follow their interests whilst still training them to keep within the broader scope of correct practices.

However no matter what marker of progress is used be it levels or a more complex system, they all function to signify, reward and correct play practice. They are crucial pedagogic mechanisms. And whilst like points, levels, may be a simple examples they are representative of range of training mechanisms that are far from a secondary.

An Alternative Pedagogic Heritage

Once we understand that points and levels are not just ‘mere gestures’ but rather pedagogic mechanisms (however rudimentary) we can start to see new possibilities for gamification, and the missed opportunities in current gamification. Bogost, and other gamification critics, are not alone in overlooking the true pedagogic significance of gaming mechanics like points and levels, neither side of the gamification debate has adequately acknowledged the pedagogic core of video gaming. Gamification critics miss the pedagogic techniques intrinsic to video gaming and thus fail to see the connection to gamification. Conversely, by emphasising the ‘new contexts’ many gamification advocates miss an opportunity to conceptualise gamification within a much longer heritage, and as such overlook important work already done in the area. The difference between arguing that games can be used for pedagogic purposes, and the understanding of games as intrinsically pedagogical, may appear minor, but it is crucial. In positioning gamification as a new discovery, a departure from traditional gaming’s core principles, gamification advocates become pioneers of a new field and can handpick the theory from game studies and game design that fits their purpose. The complex debates around such things as the ethics of games, the cultural specificity of play, gender differences in play, what kind of stories and experiences can be usefully conveyed through games, and many other critical debates of the last 20 plus years, can be largely sidestepped.

If current conceptualisations of gamification, from both advocates and critics, are limited because they fail to understand the full scope of what is occurring, and both sides are failing to articulate the aforementioned pedagogic dimension, then a new framing of gamification is required. Rather than understand gamification as the use of game design elements in non-game contexts, it is more productive to see it as the deployment of an alternative pedagogic system developed for, and refined in, gaming, in non-game contexts. Put simply: gamification is a form of training built upon the techniques used in, and heritage of, games rather than traditional pedagogy. In this conceptualisation of gamification the key term is heritage. If we recognise gamification is not a new pedagogic use of game mechanics, but rather the continuation of a long running practice, then it allows us to situate gamification as part of an established tradition of theory and design. It allows us to understand gamification as a form of pedagogy that that is not defined by the traditions of western institutional education, e.g. schools and universities (this is not to say that traditional pedagogy has not informed the training mechanism of gaming, it certainly has had a great influence, however the different cultural, economic, structural and material contexts have produced a form of pedagogy that are not defined by these traditions). It presents us with a ‘new’ discourse and set of conceptualisations through which we can understand gamification. It shows gamification to be the result of over fifty years of refinement of pedagogic technique in video game design, and an even longer history in traditional play. Once we recognise the teaching processes inherent in games, then we can see them as an unusual but important pedagogic system.

The Power of the Gaming Pedagogic Heritage

What makes gamification so unusual is also what makes it so important, the power and uniqueness of gaming pedagogy, comes from its focus on engagement, and this is why gamification has proved so popular and productive. At the heart of gaming, and consequently its pedagogic tradition, is an emphasis on player (learner) enjoyment. Game designer and theorist Ernest Adams articulates the centrality of player enjoyment when he argues a “game’s primary function is to entertain the player, and it is the designer’s obligation to create a game that does so.” (Adams, 2009: 30). It is this emphasis on enjoyment and entertainment that distinguishes gaming pedagogy from many other pedagogic models. Whilst fun and entertainment are part of numerous pedagogical frameworks, the emphasis on learning through play in these systems is often at its strongest with early childhood, and steadily decreases as the child get older, with little emphasis for adult learners. The importance of play to early childhood education can be seen in academic literature (Fisher et. al., 2011), governmental frameworks (Department of Education, Employment and Workplace, 2009), and in the emphasis on play in a range of education models such as the Montessori system (Lillard, 2013). This same prominence of play cannot be seen in the literature, policies and practices surrounding secondary, tertiary and adult education. Video games are as such unusual amongst pedagogic systems that teach adults (one recent study showed 71% of America video game players are 18 or above (Electronic Software Association, 2014: 3)) in this emphasis on entertainment as a “primary function”. The techniques they mobilise, the traditions of the pedagogic heritage they draw on and inform, are ones designed to produce an entertaining experience, whilst simultaneously functioning to train the player. This is what makes gaming pedagogy distinctive and valuable, and why gamification must be understood as part of this heritage not just a recent invention.

The centrality of enjoyment and engagement in gaming pedagogy makes it uniquely effective in situations where other forms of pedagogy may struggle. Techniques of gamification have often proved most productive in circumstances when participation is voluntary, such as in marketing promotions (Huotari  & Hamari, 2011) and personal health campaigns (McCallum, 2012); and circumstances where engagement is perceived to have declined, or in need of improvement, such as many contemporary educational contexts (Fitz-Walter et al., 2011). If we understand gamification not just as a set of mechanics but as a heritage, and an academic discourse (based in game design and game studies paradigms), the reason for this becomes easily articulable. As a practice gamification does not assume engagement and interest, but instead seeks to generate it. The key reason for this is the voluntary nature of gaming. When French sociologist Roger Caillois sought to define the act of play the first characteristic he describe was that it is ‘free’ in that “playing is not obligatory; if it were, it would at once lose its attractive and joyous quality as diversion” (Caillois, 1961). As a basis for a pedagogic model then, gaming comes from a very different setting than most traditional pedagogy. In most countries around the world some formal education is mandated, often for a period of approximately 10 years; in some countries this is then coupled with social and economic pressures encouraging higher education. These are highly distinct contexts, within which pedagogic models become established, and it has inevitably led to different techniques and models being employed. For games maintaining engagement and enjoyment is critical, for traditional pedagogic institutions these factors are less important. We can see then why, for contemporary situations with voluntary participation or low engagement, gamification (and the heritage upon which it draws) provides a powerful tool set.

Gaming is an unusual pedagogy in its emphasis on entertainment. The power of this model however is not that the player learns despite the primacy of entertainment, but that the play learns because of the primacy of entertainment. Within a gaming heritage, entertainment and learning are not discrete processes, they are one and the same. Play is learning, learning is play. The challenge and pleasure of a well-designed game come is learning the games rules, logics and systems (Friedman, 1999: 136).  For gamification to be successful then designers must recognise this tight relationship between entertainment and learning. More than this however, for gamification to be successful designers must recognise that the tight relationship between entertainment and learning is neither inevitable nor coincidental, it is the product of a long process of development and fine-tuning. It is for this reason that the wholesale lifting and transposition of elements of gaming into non-game contexts is likely to be at best a partial success. Doing so is a decontextualisation of individual processes from the broader heritage; in short it is a process of ignoring the uniqueness and power of the gaming pedagogy. For gamification to be successful this pedagogic history must be acknowledged and gamification itself must be conceptualised as the engagement with this heritage.

Gamifying Difficulty

The value for designers and theorists of reconceptualising gamification as a pedagogic heritage, not just a set of techniques, is best seen through a brief analysis of a specific example. There are countless examples that could be discussed, but here I will focus on the question of ‘difficulty’, it is an example that simply and easily shows how reframing gamification in this way opens up new possibilities and understandings, both in terms of theory and practice.

Like in all forms of pedagogy one of the key challenges in game design is the question of difficulty: how easy or hard should the tasks be, how does one challenge without frustrating, how does one teach without alienating. Gamification is no different; whatever form the gamification takes designers want players engaged, challenged but not discouraged, yet an understanding of gamification as a series of mechanisms and techniques gives us little in the way of guidance or insight into the issue of difficulty. Indeed the question of how we could think about difficulty is outside the scope of traditional definitions and discussions of gamification that focuses on points, levels, badges, etc. However if we understand gamification as a form of training built upon the techniques used in, and heritage of, games rather than traditional pedagogy, then we find not only a framework that incorporates difficulty but a rich academic discourse for understanding its complexity. We can see that in fact many game design texts implicitly and explicitly theorise the question of difficulty in relation to that core focus of gaming: player engagement.

As one would expect given the voluntary nature of play, most game design theory tends to frame the question of difficulty as an issue of enjoyment. Adam’s claims that “[to] be enjoyable, a game must be balanced well—it must be neither too easy nor too hard” (2009: 324). Such a statement, whilst simple in itself, hints at how established complex theorisations of engagement, like Csikszentmihalyi’s (1990) concept of flow (an optimal state of immersion and focus), are in this field (see Chen, 2007 and Cowley et. al., 2008 for more examples of the impact of flow theory on video game design and analysis). Flow theory, however, has a wide reach across many disciplines and pedagogic contexts, the real utility of the game design heritage that I wish to highlight here, comes from more detailed analysis and modelling of challenge in gaming, such as that offered by Jimmy Marcus Larsen in his 2010 work on difficulty curves.  Larsen presents an analysis of the way in which different models of difficulty alters the player’s experience of the game. Larsen analyses six types of difficulty curve, which represent the challenge the player faces as he or she progresses through the game. From fixed linear (difficulty remains the same throughout game), to fix increasing linear (difficulty increases at a set rate) to more complex models like fixed logarithmic wave (difficulty increases in steps towards a maximum), and interval logarithmic widening wave (difficulty generally increases towards a maximum but is randomised within a set range to provide unpredictability), Larsen evaluates the positives and negatives of each model in terms of player engagement and interest. The key thing here is not Larsen’s specific concepts but the detail and richness of his work, and of the work of others like him (see, for example, Salen and Zimmerman’s discussion of dynamic difficulty (2004: 224) or Brycer’s (2011) analysis of the effectiveness ‘Darwinian difficulty’ i.e. extremely high difficulty levels). If gamification is understood as a form of pedagogy informed by this kind of work, this heritage, then what we get is a very different understanding of the processes of learning; one that has a notably different emphasis from many other pedagogic models where difficulty is governed by other concerns such as what is age appropriate or what is required to give set skills. The question of the shape, and therefore effect, of the difficulty curve is one that is crucial to gaming but seldom discussed in other pedagogic traditions. Most pedagogic traditions, especially institutional frameworks (school, universities, etc.) uncritically mobilise fairly linear models of difficulty, where, as we have seen, the gaming heritage provides a powerful and nuanced alternative.

Within the conceptualisation proposed in this article, the gamification of a task’s difficulty can be understood as a process whereby an existing model of conceptualising difficulty from game design/game studies is mobilised in a non-game context. This gamification of difficulty has very little to do with the definitions offered by Zichermann and likeminded theorists. It is not about simply using points, levels or leader boards, but rather it is about drawing on the work of theorists and game designers like Larsen and building upon their lessons. One does not have to rely on points etc. to make a task more gamelike, the application of an interval logarithmic widening wave difficulty curve (Larsen, 2010) for example, can be just as, or more, successful. The gamification of difficulty is about recognising difficulty as part of play’s pedagogic process and understanding the intellectual history behind it. Put simply, good gamification should not indiscriminately recontextualise gaming elements, it needs to understand and build upon the underpinning logics and philosophies. By reconceptualising gamification as a pedagogic history based in the academic disciplines of game design and game studies we can encourage this more sophisticated approach and emphasise and reinforce the links between game mechanics and techniques and the contexts, rationales and desired outcomes that produced them in the first place.

Whilst the issue of difficulty effectively demonstrates the power of gaming as an alternate pedagogic framework, it is just one example amongst many that could have been analysed here. Game design and game studies offer innumerable other important frameworks expansions and challenges to traditional pedagogic discourses, from new conceptualisations of the relationship between spatiality and agency (Nitsche, 2008; Rogers, 2009), to rethinking pedagogic temporality (Aarseth, 1999; Juul, 2004); from examining the relationship between narrative and interactivity (Jenkins, 2004, Murray, 2005), to recognising the complexity of gender performativity (Kennedy, 2002; Taylor, 2009); from understating the challenges of resource management (Costikyan, 2005) to allowing for different types of engagement and the different pleasures they produce (Bartle, 1996, de Peuter & Dyer-Witheford, 2005), to draw on just a few better known pieces. All of these ideas can provide much needed contributions to thinking about how we learn, why we learn, and what it means to learn. Whilst rarely explicitly about pedagogy these theories implicitly offer new and unique ways to understand, and shape, practices of learning and interacting and can be mobilised to produce the desired profitable consumers, obedient and efficient workers, healthy citizen, and knowledgeable students for which gamification strives. To reach its full potential, gamification must be understood as the drawing on the rich theoretical heritage game design and studies offers, and the recognition that in doing so one is accessing a developed and distinctive pedagogic paradigm.

Conclusion

Gamification as a practice has existed far longer than the term itself. The use of the pedagogic mechanisms of games to shape understandings and behaviours is far from new. What the terminology of gamification offer us is an opportunity to recognise and integrate a range of potentially disparate practices and techniques into a cohesive framework. It allows us to see the connections and overlaps between such things as character health, narrative progression, and difficulty curves, and recognise that these are all processes and mechanism of pedagogy; a pedagogy where entertainment is entrenched and engagement fostered.

The techniques commonly associated with contemporary gamification: points, levels and leaderboards, are but simple examples of a much richer heritage. A heritage designed to engage and train players who are voluntarily interacting with a complex system. As gamification develops we are likely to see more sophisticated mechanisms and techniques become popular. Gaming has a deep history of refinement and thought about how to appeal to players, through challenge and reward, through progression and feedback. All these mechanisms can be drawn on and applied in other circumstances in ways that go well beyond points, levels and leaderboards. Most video games offer complex numerical economies, patterns of progression, precise difficulty curves, involving scenarios and stories, carefully constructed spatial and temporal dynamics, etc. It is through embracing these possibilities that gamification can become a richer, more nuanced, and more effective practice. The power of gamification is in its ability to engage an audience, to do so with any longevity for complex tasks requires more complex techniques than simple points and linear progression. If gamification advocates and practitioners move beyond the rhetoric of education revolution and instead embraces gaming’s rich pedagogic heritage then we may witness the real potential of gamification be realised. Understanding gaming as a pedagogic process, helps us reconceptualise gamification as an extension and recontextualisation of it methods and philosophies. This not only offers us a rich lineage of examples to draw on, but helps us understand how and why gamification is successful (and how and why it may fail). It gives us a deeper academic framework through which to view contemporary gamification, and the foundations to build a more sophisticated and nuanced version.

It is easy to dismiss gamification as a fad or a gimmick, but to do so would be to miss an important opportunity to re-evaluate contemporary pedagogy. Video games are now one of the most popular entertainment forms; players of all ages are investing more and more time in these virtual worlds. But these are not virtual worlds that are innately familiar to their players, these are world with rules, goals and strategies that the player must learn. Video games train players into how to understand and engage with them, they use numerical feedback, progress and other techniques in order to shape the player’s play practices. The current version of gamification we are seeing offers a rudimentary use of these same mechanics, but it has been held back by a lack of recognition of the broader contexts within gaming, and a lack of realisation of the significance and scope of what is occurring. It is also hampered by models of gaming that assume pedagogy to be a secondary process, and theorists who are thus resisting gamification due to a belief that it is not game-like enough. Whilst there are valid ethical issues to think through (as there are with any pedagogic paradigm) dismissing gamification for its lack of gameness is reductionist, and counterproductive. Gamification practices are building on the unacknowledged heart of gaming, its training mechanics, and are mobilising these techniques outside traditional play. Further work needs to be done by gamifiers to incorporate the more sophisticated mechanisms from video gaming (and this is where game studies theorists can be of great worth) but even the basic gamification we see today offers a glimpse of an alternative way of thinking about education, marketing, health and other areas, tailor-made for the 21st century and a new generation of learners.

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Biographical Statement

Rowan Tulloch is a lecturer in digital media and video gaming at Macquarie University, Sydney, Australia. His research looks at the technological and cultural logics embodied within practices of interactivity. His work on video gaming explores the pedagogy of video games and the normalising forces used to teach, coerce, and compel players to engage in certain privileged ways in order to construct the intended play experience. His recent research project The Gamification of Higher Education Teaching Practices analysed the effectiveness of different models of gamification in the university classroom environment. From this research he has formulated new frameworks for conceptualising gamification, and is developing a software package to assist university staff to better engage their student through simple gamification techniques.

Contact: Rowan.Tulloch@mq.edu.au

Tisha Lewis Ellison

Published Online: December 15, 2014

Full Text: HTML, PDF

Abstract: This article describes how two African American adolescent male cousins become co-constructors and negotiators of identity while playing The Sims 2, an online life simulation computer game.i Utilising literacy as social practices and multimodal practices, this article produces a framework to establish how adolescents use digital tools to construct their identities, and how identity construction and interactions with these tools extend understandings of literacies, multimodality, and self. Data were collected using ethnographic and multimodal discourse methods and guided by questions: How did adolescents use an online computer game to construct their identities? How might these identity constructions and interactions with digital tools extend their understandings of literacies, multimodality, and self? Analyses demonstrated how the adolescents took on student-centered roles as co-constructors of knowledge and meaning that contribute to the ways they need to be researched and studied in this era. This work also challenges educators to acknowledge how students participate with digital tools in communal spaces that shape how their literacy and identities are constructed, and it adds to the limited representation and investigation of African American family meaning-making and identity via digital tools.

Keywords: family literacy, digital literacies, multimodalities, adolescent literacy, digital media, identities

Tisha:               So how does it feel when you both create your own identity…like, your own person?

Jake:                It feels FUN because you get to do what you want to do in the future.

Gerard:            Yeah!

Jake:                I can make an inventor like I’ve always wanted to be.

Introduction

In today’s digitally mediated society, adolescents participate in a variety of literacy practices using digital tools (i.e., blogging, texting, instant messaging, and video gaming) for a variety of reasons and purposes, including: (a) interacting on social networking sites; (b) forming affinity spaces around digital tools (Gee, 2003); and (c) gathering information for personal and school use. What is most significant is the ways in which adolescents rely on digital tools to help make sense of both their on- and offline worlds (Lewis, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2013, 2014; Gee, 2003; Gutierrez & Beavis, 2010). For instance, emotions, anxiety, and creative actions occur when adolescents read and respond to text messages and emails (Turkle, 1995). Adolescents also make meaning and express ideas through popular forms of remix practices, images, videos, anime fan art, etc. (Gainer & Lapp, 2010; Knobel & Lankshear, 2008); and they shift selves within role-playing games (Hammer, 2007). However, within each of these digital literacy practices, identities get entangled when adolescents experience or participate in computer/video games, a popular and privileged literacy practice among adolescents (Beavis, Apperley, Bradford, & O’Mara, 2009; Gee, 2003; Lenhart, Kahne, Middaugh, Macgill, Evans, & Vitak, 2008; Thomas, 2007; Wonica, 2013). The above excerpt features the voices of ten year-olds Gerard and Jake (pseudonyms), and me while discussing their engagement in creating a Sims 2 character. Their interactions shed light on the ways in which they process choices, identity, and navigate their roles of self (Foucault, 1988), while having fun creating during real-time video gaming. Their comments speak to the rising trend of how adolescents use video gaming for creativity and gaining “textual/literate experiences in online worlds” (Beavis et al, 2009, p. 163).

In this article, I examine the affordances and limitations of two African American adolescent boy cousins’ digital literacy practices, and their involvement with The Sims 2 computer game to answer the following questions: How do adolescents use an online computer game to construct their identities? How might these identity constructions and interactions with digital tools extend their understandings of literacies, multimodality, and self? This work documents Gerard and Jakes’ construction and negotiation techniques while online, the roles video games play in their lives, and how elements of choice, creation, meaning, and creativity all relate to issues of identity that shape their constructions of themselves and their navigation of familial relationships and practices.

Literacy as Social Practices & Multimodality

This work is situated around questions about adolescents’ digital literacy and multimodal practices via an online computer game, and beliefs about identity constructions and self. The theoretical frame is informed by sociocultural traditions of literacy as both social (Barton & Hamilton, 2000; New London Group, 1996; Street, 1995) and multimodal practices (Kress, 2000; Kress & Jewitt, 2003; Kress & van Leeuwen, 2001). Literacy as Social Practices is derived from the New Literacy Studies which acknowledges that what individuals do with everyday social practices do not extend from a model of solely reading and writing. However, literacy as social practices requires social communicative interactions that force us to examine how individuals use and make sense of texts, meaning, and multiple literacies in contexts through time and space in everyday social practices (Lankshear & Knobel, 2003; Pahl & Rowsell, 2006; Perry, 2012).

According to the New Literacy Studies’ concept of “literacy as a social practice,” individuals’ literacy practices are based on the social, cultural, and political contexts of literacy that are shaped by digital technologies/literacies (Kress, 2003; Lewis & Fabos, 2005). Social practices involve the ways people use literacy: where they do it, what they do and do not do with it, and how everyday events and practices shape how they make sense of and accomplish things through it (Barton & Hamilton, 1998; Gee, 1996). Since all texts are multimodal, meaning draws on multiple modes of representation. Multimodality is used to examine the ways in which individuals process literacy through such practices as reading, writing, viewing, understanding, producing, and interacting with digital texts/tools through the modes of sight, sound, gestures, and movements through and within texts. When used in video game playing, these modes present ways in which individuals incorporate communicative systems with social practices to simultaneously make meaning (Kress, 2000; Kress & van Leeuwen, 2001; Walsh, 2010). What follows is an exploration of relevant literature pertaining to adolescents and perspectives of identities, figured worlds, video gaming, and digital literacy learning.

Perspectives of Identities, Figured Worlds, and Adolescents

Many scholars suggest that identities shape the way people make sense of the world and influence how they engage in literacy practices (Arnseth & Silseth, 2013; Gee, 2003; Hall, 2002). Other studies documented the impact of social identities regarding students in schools and in learning (Gonzalez, Moll, & Amanti, 2005; Wortham, 2006). Today’s adolescents rely on digital learning, relationships, and self, and represent identities through on- and offline participation as ‘experts in the field’ (Gutierrez & Beavis, 2010). By identities, I refer to an individual’s perception and understanding of themselves, their behaviour, lifestyles, and their language—all of which are formed and developed by a tool, thing, or situation. In other words, it is the position in which one authorises authority in that space.

Holland, Lachicotte, Skinner, and Cain (1998) claim that “identities are a key means through which people care about and are for what is going on around them…which people create new activities, new worlds, and new ways of being” (p. 5). In addition, Urrieta (2007) defines identity as “how people come to understand themselves, how they come to ‘figure’ who they are, through the ‘worlds’ that they participate in and how they relate to others within and outside of these worlds” (p. 107). Within larger frameworks of identity and self, it is relevant to acknowledge ‘figured worlds’. Holland, et al (1998) introduced figured worlds as ‘‘socially produced, culturally constituted activities’’ in which identities are formed, conceptualised, and materially produced (pp. 40–41). Urrieta (2007) suggests figured worlds in this way: “people ‘figure’ who they are through the activities and in relation to the social types that populate these figured worlds and in social relationships with the people who perform these worlds. People develop new identities in figured worlds” (p. 108). Figured worlds are described through four components as: 1) cultural phenomena in which people enter and develop through the work of others; 2) “contexts of meaning” in which activities are meaningful and individual’s positions matter; 3) “socially organized and reproduced” spaces in which individuals are sorted and learn to function with each other in different ways and purposes; and 4) spaces that cause individuals to relate to these worlds through “familiar social types and host to individual senses of self” (Holland, Lachicotte, Skinner, & Cain, 1998; Urrieta, 2007, p. 108).

In this digital age, identities are constantly being built and developed in manners that suit us for the moment. For example, adolescents constantly change their photos, friends, and post messages on Facebook and Twitter. They even create new characters or Avatars that express their personal and social identities while playing video games (Lotherington and Jenson, 2011), and are divided into on- and offline and personal and social identities (Palfrey & Gasser, 2008). More specifically, studies documented the role that video games or digital tools play with adolescent identities. Abrams (2009) suggests that the:

identity of a gamer not only reveals what he/she does (i.e., playing, and perhaps mastering, video games), but also it provides insight into the language, knowledge, experiences, and perceptions that are formed in relation to or as a result of video gaming. Engaging in specific activities such as video gaming means interacting with ‘specific groups of people’ (Gee, 1996) who recognize, value, and adopt the same discourses; ‘being-doing’ a gamer situates the individual among others in the Discourse community (Abrams, 2009, p. 3, Adams, 2009; Hinchmann, Sheridan-Thomas, & Alvermann, 2008).

In Gee’s (2003) What Video Games Have to Teach us About Learning and Literacy, he argues that learning and literacy in video games are just as significant as learning and literacy in today’s classrooms. He suggests that when we play video games, we take on certain identities, just as when we are learning a new literacy. We can create the characters that we want in video games to fit our culture, appearance, and gender. Gee (2003) highlights 36 learning principles as effective tools that are “built into good video games,” and describes how identities are formed and work in learning in and outside of schools. He states: “Video games recruit identities and encourage identity work and reflection on identities in clear and powerful ways” (pp. 49, 51). This quote does not solicit everyone to start playing video games, but it does open up the argument that there is much to learn from the young people who play them.

When we play video games or interact in digital literacy practices, we rely on semiotic domains (study of signs) to help us understand how things take on meaning. These domains can refer to “images, sounds, gestures, movements, graphs, diagrams, equations, objects, even people like babies, midwives and mothers and not just words” (p. 17). According to Gee (2003), semiotic domains are identities that we create consciously and unconsciously in our embodied habitus (Bourdieu, 1990)—ones that can adjust, shift, and transform at any time. Examining semiotic domains as identities opens up the discussion of learning and literacy concerning video games as well as how identity changes within digital literacy practices at home. For example, we might explore how family members interact with video games that position them such that their identities, consciously or unconsciously, shift while playing the game or creating characters.

Gee’s (2003, 2009) work also highlights three forms of identities that are all constructed simultaneously: real, virtual, and projective. Real-world identity represents my real life identity as Tisha playing a computer game. In this identity, everything I am and embody is embedded into this role (an African American woman, wife, daughter, professor, digital literate composer/storyteller, photographer, visionary, etc.). Virtual identity acknowledges one’s identity as the virtual character that has been created by the player. For instance, Tisha/Super Mario is the virtual character I am playing; therefore every move, role, or appearance is generated by my choices. Projective identity takes on the role as both the player (real-world) and the character (virtual) within the game. Both identities (Tisha as Super Mario) exert feelings, strategic motives, and knowledge to fulfill the games’ end result—to win or accomplish the goal. These different kinds of identities that are constructed and produced in- and offline also carry with them a socialised effect on how video games are explored and the effect on the characters who play them.

Sophisticated video games, such as simulation games, bring with them more critical insight and strategic methods. Games like SimCity involve active, inactive, and critical learning principles with problem-solving techniques, role-playing domains of make-believe and imagined worlds/relationships that encourage youth to take on various identities in the hands of the player (Gee, 2003). To be an active learner one has to experience the world in new ways, create affinity groups with like-minded people, and use these elements to prepare for future learning. According to Gee, individuals in this space can “challenge players’ taken-for-granted perspectives on the world” (p. 140). The following sections examine relevant literature on this topic.

Adolescents, Video Games, Identities, and Digital Literacy Learning

Scholars have recognised that adolescents’ engagement in digital literacy practices strongly reflect and affect their affiliations and identities (Alvermann, 2001; Dezuanni, 2010; Gee, 2004; Merchant, 2010; Rogers & Winters, 2010). Chandler-Olcott & Mahar (2003) address adolescent girls’ use of digital technologies in their daily literacy practices, considering how the girls used these technologies for literate purposes in communities of practice, as well as the ways in which issues of identity and gender played a role in their practices and choices (Gee, 2004). They discovered that the social relationships developed online between school and home were more relevant to the girls’ increased proficiency when using the digital technologies. This study was significant in that it describes how Internet-based technologies motivated the girls to improve as designers, writers, and artists in their everyday lives.

In addition, Norton-Meier (2004) examined the ways in which adolescent girls created and negotiated rules for communicating and identifying themselves in innovative ways in chat room discussions about various aspects of popular culture; such as music, television, books, and games. As a result, the girls created a Female Technology User’s Bill of Rights which included “rights” such as: “I have the right to make meaning as I personally invent myself as a language user”; “I have the right to play with language, technology and what it means to be female”; and “I have the right to question gender issues, technology and the world around me” (pp. 606-608). These rights shed light on the ways in which these girls identified themselves as “females” and as “language user[s],” and questioned “gender issues” that related to them and their world as they interacted in these online communities. The girls created power, voice, choice, rules, and community to make meaning as females in a safe environment. In a 2005 article, Norton-Meier documented her own multiple roles in the home while playing video games with her husband and adolescent children. She stated that the mechanics of game playing with her family shifted the face of her family’s literacy, in which her roles shifted from being a video-game strategist to a designer and then a troubleshooter at various levels of game play.

Digital tools/literacies have an impact on individuals’ everyday lives, particularly in the ways in which they interact, play, communicate, and associate emotions. This discovery sparked my interest in exploring how identity, through the engagement with digital tools, sheds light on the ways in which individuals create meaning, develop, and make sense of themselves when involved in practices or activities of choice with digital texts and tools (Chandler-Olcott & Mahar, 2003; Gee, 2004).

Youth interpret meaning when playing computer/video games in multiple ways. They use choice to interpret movement, images, words, and symbols to suit their interests and goals. Several studies have shown the success of video game use in today’s classrooms for the purposes of tutoring struggling readers (Adams, 2009), for encouragement, and as a means to capitalise on students’ strengths (Simpson & Clem, 2008). Still other scholars have focused on individuals from particular communities and cultures’ gaming practices, identity formation (McGaughey-Summers & Summers, 2007; Pandey, Pandey, & Shreshtha, 2007), and the impact of video gamers’ literacy habits and development (Hawisher and Selfe, 2007). For instance, in Hawisher and Selfe’s (2007) longitudinal seven-year study of digital literacy practices, they examined over 350 adolescents and adult video gamers to understand how their “literacies acquired, practiced and valued within the digital environments of computer games” (p. 2).

Dezuanni’s (2010) case study illuminated connections between digital media and school curriculum through the Video Games Immersion Unit, which allowed teachers and media specialists to offer adolescents the experience to design and produce video games. Students not only played the games, but they reflected on ideological and critical influences and themes around games and gender, which in turn shifted their motivation for learning (Abrams, 2009), and explored how the use of learning and gaming made up part of adolescents’ cultural identities. Alvermann, Marshall, McLean, Huddleston, Joaquin, & Bishop (2012) dispute the notion that adolescents’ online literate identities are isolated at school by exploring five students’ use of various web resources (i.e., gaming, social networks, and remixing music) constructed their online identities. In fact, they found that none of the students’ online literate identities were isolated from their offline social networks; instead, it was through their use of multimodal tools that they were able to negotiate their online literate identities.

Methodology

As part of a larger ethnographic case study on an African American family’s digital literacy practices in an urban community, this research began at an after-school program where ten year-old Gerard attended my reading class. Gerard’s observations and questions about his digital literacy practices in and out of class verified his engagement with digital tools and his accessibility to those tools (Lewis, 2009). Based on those criteria, I gained approval from his mother to study the entire family with specific emphasis on Gerard and his mother’s individual and collective digital literacy practices in the home and how those practices were embedded within their literate lives. I theorised that an in-depth understanding of the digital literacies of one family would provide a unique and complex portrait of family literacy practices.

Data Sources

Data were collected for a year with more intense collection occurring between July and October 2007. Data collection involved three phases: descriptive, grounded, and participatory. In the descriptive phase, I described the activities in the home including thirty-minute interviews and weekly/semi-weekly observations with Gerard; through the qualitative ethnographic techniques of audio/video-recorded semi-structured, structured, and unstructured interviews, participant observations and field notes. Digital photos, a guided digital walk-through of their house, and documentation via texts and emails were also used to capture the family’s digital literacy practices over time. The grounded phase included more focused and grounded methods of ongoing analysis and included targeted interviews, dialogues with the family about the digital walks, and continued structured observations in the family setting. The participatory phase involved both the descriptive and grounded phases with more focused semi-structured and unstructured interviews, participant observations, and video- and audio recordings. These methods helped me to directly describe the activities in the home and communities that would generate more questions and reasons for further interviews and observations.

Reflexivity in Data Collection

During data collection, I took on an ongoing role in a researcher-informant relationship. Due to our rapport and my working relationship with participants as Gerard’s reading teacher, this relationship allowed for reciprocity between the researcher and researched (Lather, 1991) and granted me with greater access to yield rich data into their academic and personal lives, as well as become involved in the research process (Lewis, 2009, 2014). In addition, being an African American woman was a vital component to gaining access and it afforded me the opportunity to gather information and knowledge about the family. As Gerard’s mother shared she would not have allowed another researcher outside of her race to conduct the stories of their lives (Lewis, 2009).

Data Analysis

Data analysis involved multimodal discourse analysis (MMDA) (Kress & van Leeuwen, 2001; Scollon & Levine, 2004; van Leeuwen, 2008) to capture the multimodality of mediated actions and the multiple modes of spoken language that carry meaning (i.e., gestures, visuals, sounds, etc.) in the home and in the family’s interactions with one another. MMDA was used to capture how meaning was made, interpreted, distributed, and received through many representational and communicative modes (Kress & Jewitt, 2003). Analysis from data such as transcripts, field notes, codes, and audio and video recordings were categorised to locate themes and patterns to answer the research questions (Creswell, 1998; Merriam, 2001; Miles & Huberman, 1994).

I also used color-coding to reflect my research questions. Colors were assigned to each research question and inquiry, making it easy to identify and trace its relevancy to the study by underlining words or phrases closely related to the topic at hand from the original transcript. I color-coded instances in which these categories captured the interaction (Merriam, 2001). Using the color-coded categories alongside the transcripts, I looked for situations in which the family enacted digital literacies in the home. Coding assisted me in identifying notations to easily develop, assess, and modify as needed during the collection and analysis simultaneously (Merriam, 2001; Miles & Huberman, 1994). The following sections represent the findings.

Gerard and Jake: Designing, Negotiating, and Strategising a Sims 2 Character

Ten year-old Gerard is an avid digital literacy user. He would occasionally create digital comic strips, troubleshoot, and text and instant message with his mother. One activity he thoroughly enjoyed was playing The Sims 2, an online life simulation game. One day, while collecting data at Gerard’s house, I met his 10 year-old cousin, Jake. Together they leisurely engaged in the creation of The Sims 2 characters for several hours (Lewis, 2009). They created from scratch artificial life-forms, or A-life, with personalities, feelings, and emotions that developed over time. I refer to this process as dig-entities (or digital identities): individuals design identities that come to life when merged with on- and offline worlds. Through these characters, Gerard and Jake created fictitious worlds that imitated real life. Just as in real life, the Sims have several life stages of development. They can attend school, marry, engage in relationships, and even die. Gerard and Jake’s most commonly played life stage is the “adult” stage. Their purpose was to create an adult character’s lifestyle by obtaining employment, status, and building a home while maintaining friendships in the SimCity community.

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Figure 1. The Sims 2 characters

Sim characters are driven by their needs (i.e., sleep, social interaction, and hunger). Each Sim has a meter that appears on the screen that indicates its need for a specific thing by shifting from green (satisfied) to red (desperation, which requires immediate action). Often overlapping in dialogues, Gerard and Jake explained how they created and designed their fictitious character from scratch. Gerard explained that the game “starts out with nobody”: just diamond-shaped tops spinning in the middle of the screen that, through the actions of the player, transformed into a character.

Images

Verbal Interaction

Nonverbal Interaction

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1a. G: It starts out with nobody.

1b. G: It’s better when you create a story…. And then you can do this body morphing stuff.

1c. J: Okay gender.                    Click it again. Just click accept Sim.

1a. (Instrumental music plays throughout the interaction)

1a. (Blank screen is shown with a diamond-shaped top that spins and an animated white male figure appears)

1b. (Gerard and Jake keep their eyes on the television screen; both have remotes in their hands)

1b. (Animated white male figure appears on the screen, including a side profile of the figure)

1b. (Title options are shown on the left of the screen)

1c. (With remote in hand, Jake quickly clicks on the body morphing icons and chooses other icons to consider)

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2a. T: So how do you know what to do?

2b. G: Because Jake played this game before.

2c. T: So how do you know what kind of person he will be?

2d. J: You don’t. You make your own person…

2e. G: You just see how it looks.

2b. (Jake is quickly choosing various shirts and color of the animated male; holds the remote steadily in his hand; sits erect)

2c. (Jake goes through various items to change shirts; hits the shirt designs)

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3a. G: That looks kinda good just change the color.

3b. J: I’ll take that head in.

3c. G: Change the color.

3d. J: I’m going to change him. He needs to get some exercise.

3e. G: That looks…no that’s the knee. Go down. Go…now THOSE are the

muscles.

3f. J:  That’s better.

3g. G: No. All the way to there. All the way to there. Down…Down like that.

3a. (Gerard gets up and points to one of the icons showing Jake where to change the color. With the remote in his hand, Jake continues to change the image, the color and clothes of the animated figure)

3c. (Jake changes the color and does not like it so he changes it to another color)

3d. (Scans to the figure’s legs)

3e. (Jake scans to the upper part of the body. Jake scans to the lower part of the body)

3g. (Gerard gets up and points to the figure’s                                           legs on the screen)

(Gerard points his finger in a downward motion and sits down)

Figure 2. Gerard and Jake playing The Sims 2 video game

Gerard and Jake created a character named Jake, a white adult male who emerged onto the screen wearing a brown T-shirt, blue jeans, and a brunette rock star’s hairstyle. Jake’s lifestyle included real-life problems and relationships, and each took turns to collectively develop ideas, problem-solve, generate choices, and make changes to their character. Holding the remote control with his eyes focused on the screen, Gerard informed me of the “body morphing stuff” that players could use to create certain features for the character. They were excited about making sure their character had the appropriate style and look, which reflected clothing that the real-life Gerard and Jake would wear.

Both boys made strategic choices on which they agreed to create the characters. For instance, when I asked them how they knew what kind of character they would create, Jake mentioned, “You don’t [know]. You make your own person,” while Gerard shared, “You just see how it looks” (see Figure 2). Here, they made, created, and remade over again to construct and negotiate the identities they have in their minds. Unlike comic strips, in which the designer must create characters from scratch using a pencil to erase and restart again, creating online characters gave Gerard and Jake quicker and sharper choices and movements to choose from. They made quick overlapping verbal and nonverbal gestures and changes throughout this interaction, showing: (a) how comfortable they were with the remote control (i.e., shifting items to collaborate on the creation of characters); (b) how Jake made more visual changes (i.e., changing Jake’s clothes), while Gerard directed the designing with verbal commands (i.e., “All the way to there…. Down like that”); and (c) how both compromised and worked together to make those choices (i.e., one manipulating the remote control while the other provided instructions).

Indeed, Gerard and Jake took on mutual responsibilities while creating Jake. Jake made modally dense choices by quickly clicking the buttons or scanning the upper and lower parts of Jake’s body to choose his clothes, while Gerard watched. Gerard recognised how and where certain parts should be emphasised and sought to change the design by saying things like, “Change the color…Go down…All the way to there. Down….Down.” In this way, Gerard identified certain flaws in the character that, in his opinion, needed to be reshaped (lines 3d-3g). Instead of manipulating a character that was “ready to go,” Gerard and Jake created and produced their own character—one they had imagined together. This proactive way of playing and learning to make meaning through design was self-motivated, intrinsically compelling, and engaging for them that made transforming identities of their character Jake unique.

Gerard and Jake: Taking on and Transforming Identities

Gerard and Jake took on identities and transformed old ones to make their story unique and complex, but these identities also helped them make sense of their own lives. For instance, their design choices spoke to how their personal and fictitious character’s identities were constructed as they sat elbow to elbow while playing the video game (see Figure 2). Gerard and Jake taught me how they manipulated texts, images, and colors, and used these elements to create and understand meaning in their online exchanges.

Gerard and Jake’s conversations, social interactions, and cultural models (Gee, 2003) played a significant role in their construction of their identities and the development of characters. The more Gerard and Jake spoke about, positioned, and created their characters, the more the way they spoke to each another changed. For instance, they began to speak the language of gamers—more mechanical and critical, similar to the way individuals text while using cell phones (Drouin & Davis, 2009; Drouin, 2011)—in verbal and visual codes typically used by those who know the system of creating and playing video games (Driscoll, 2008; Ensslin, 2011; Lewis, 2009; 2011; 2013). What is important to note is how Gerard and Jake consciously produced these various modes in this exchange that changed their understandings of the game. Their movements, modes, and language were more intentional and positioned them to describe Jake and themselves in this practice.

As Gerard and Jake continued to create their character, Jake became deeply connected to the identity of Jake. He attempted to make Jake look similar to him, thus intersecting online and offline worlds.

Images

Verbal Interaction

Nonverbal Interaction

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1a. J: I’m blonde, so I’ll make him look like ME!

1b. T: You’re blonde? You want him to look just like you?

1c. J: Yeah, that’s what I’d like to do. I have to make him look like me.

1a. (Jakes quickly goes through multiple hair colors till he gets to the color blonde.)

1a. (Jake enlarges the screen showing the character in full length with the options on the left side.)

1a. (Jake shows the character from the waist down)

1c. (Jakes quickly goes through multiple hair colors till he gets to the color blonde. Gerard stands up and sits down throughout the interaction. He appears to be excited and anxious)

Figure 3. Jake changing Jake’s hair color

Jake’s comment, “I’m blonde so I’ll make him like ME!” (line 1a) is one example. Jake is a light skinned, African American boy with light brown hair, yet his comment suggested that he thought of and saw himself as a boy with blonde hair. At the same time, he moved away from his racial identity as an African American and chose to create and design the character using other perspectives and identities that made sense to him.

Interestingly, Jake made connections between his identity as an African American and Jake’s identity as a white blonde-haired man. His authority to customise Jake’s identity gave him the opportunity to explore the nuances of his own racial/ethnic construction. In fact, as I listened to Jake and Gerard and observed their interactions, I came to understand how video games with advanced programming and design have the propensity to complicate all racial and ethnic backgrounds and boundaries. As a result, video game playing may have an influence on children’s identity development (Brougere, 1999; Chen, Lien, Annetta, & Lu, 2010; Tynes, 2007). In fact, playing games such as The Sims and Avatars could allow African American children and adolescents to formulate images that strongly impact their personal and racial identities (Gee, 2003; Neville, Tynes, & Utsey, 2008). With this understanding, some children may not only question who they are, but who they hope to become (Tynes, 2007). This notion is especially true when negotiating identities vis-à-vis digital objects. While Gerard and Jake interacted with Jake to design and introduce their character to social relationships, Jake continued to shape and reshape his identity whenever he entered SimCity. Since Jake already had experiences living as an African American, perhaps it was necessary to move beyond the familiar to explore new identities and experience new ways of learning and looking at life; a phenomenon similar to Gee’s (2003) concept of critical learning wherein learners use “semiotic domains as design spaces” that manipulate us in certain ways and that we can manipulate in certain ways” (Gee, 2003, p. 43).

For example, when Gerard and Jake created and designed Jake, this activity allowed them to think, feel, act, and value learning in ways that recruited new identities, which emerged when the players took on the life of an artificial life-form. Formulating relationships with the character created tensions between the players through activities and practices similar to those that real-life individuals experience every day. The excerpt below, and highlighted in the beginning of this article, provides evidence of how constructing and recruiting identities were important to Gerard and Jake.

T:    So how does it feel when you both create your own identity…like, your own person?

J:          It’s feels FUN because you get to do what you want to do in the future

G:        Yeah!

J:          I can make an inventor like I’ve always wanted to be. (Sings Hallelujah)

In this excerpt along with the previous figures, Jake ‘talked himself into being.’ He saw this activity as an opportunity to choose to make Jake in the image that he desired. As Jake and Gerard collaborated during this practice, they demonstrated how they were able to collectively use the everyday knowledge of designing video game characters with peers to successfully play The Sims 2 together (Jewitt, 2003) and form projective identities (Gee, 2003).

Projective and Manipulated Identities

Making the character’s name one’s own (as Jake created Jake) is an example of what Gee (2003) calls, “projective identity,” or “projecting one’s values and desires onto the virtual character” (p. 55). For instance, Gerard and Jake created Jake, but Jake was the one who mastered the remote control during this interaction. The examples in Figures 2-3 and the excerpt both illustrate online relationships between the player and the character, where the player acted as or attempted to be the virtual character. Indeed, Jake took character design to another level by creating meaning and similar dig-entities (digital identities) between on- and offline worlds—between himself and Jake. Though both boys collaborated on the composition of Jake, both unconsciously and consciously, Jake created the kind of person he wanted to be—quite like an inventor (i.e., line 6).

While Jake actively maneuvered and managed the remote control, Gerard’s role as designer was not minimal; and, in fact, he acted as a reflector, co-creator, and co-constructor; actively identifying and making choices about the importance of the character’s features, and offering critiques of how he understood what and how Jake should be represented in the computer game. Together, Gerard and Jake relied on strategies such as teamwork, problem solving, and reflexivity to design Jake. Their design allowed them to emphasise the real and imagined relationships (as in figured worlds) between the player and the character to make meaning through verbal and nonverbal descriptions in a multimodal space.

During their observations, Gerard and Jake processed meanings made and remade by each other. They thought about which movements went first, what modes were used, as well as how to interact with one another and make use of the available resources. This pattern appeared when Gerard and Jake had to work across or translate between modes. For instance, their choice of movements were quick and purposeful shifting from gestures, linguistic interactions, and proximity to each other and the end result were displayed on the computer screen. Both boys relied on digital literacy practices that allowed them to construct complex digital spaces, maintain social networks, and experience personal achievement. In the process, they made sense of their on- and offline identities and became more digitally literate through their collaborative interactions. Gerard and Jake came into this practice one way and left with a creation of a character and traces of extended digital literacy practices that informed their literacy, learning, problem-solving skills, discourses, and fostered affiliations and identity roles in this digitally mediated space they created.

The main ideas in this study are situated in the ways Gerard and Jake became co-constructors of self. Jake, as a real-world identity vs. Jake, a virtual identity, took on projective meanings of learning, being, and making sense of themselves through the Sims 2 computer game. Jake practiced identity play in which he took on different identities and roles in different situations to construct himself as White by changing his hair to blonde, and in the ways he and Gerard situated themselves as designers. Gerard and Jake problem-solved ways to create their Sims character, manipulated the digital tools (i.e., remote controls), and produced and distributed information on-screen. Their communication skills were enhanced because they both found a communal affinity for creating and playing a Sims character. Through conversations and my observations with Gerard and Jake, I learned that their engagement with digital literacy practices via computer games mattered. I learned that these exchanges with this video game held meaning for their natural selves and greatly influenced the ways in which they created data as co-constructors to make meaning and collaborate through innovative discoveries in their local settings.

Discussion and Conclusions

This article sought to address how two African American male cousins co-created, negotiated, and co-constructed meaning when playing The Sims 2 computer video game at home. The following questions: (1) how did adolescents use an online computer game to construct their identities; and (2) how might these identity constructions and interactions extend their understandings of literacies, multimodality, and self acknowledged how their constructions of the Sims shed light on the ways in which literacies are fostered, multimodal meaning is explored, and how the boys see themselves as co-constructors of meaning.

Exploring digital literacy practices, video games, and identities in the digital age creates “participatory cultures” (Jenkins, 2006) for adolescents, in which they become active citizens in their online worlds. Sophisticated literacy practices and varying modes of meaning, choice, and identities flowed through Gerard and Jake’s creation of and enactment with their Sims 2 character Jake. However, through their engagement in their video game, they brought about interesting challenges to identity that teach us about video games, identity, and self.

Such an activity is extremely important. Not only did Gerard and Jake spend time communicating and creating new identities online, but they also allowed the digital tools of The Sims 2 video game to create affinity spaces within the context of family relations. They adopted various roles as gamer, designer, learner, and mentor that provided evidence of how digital literacy practices shaped their relational practices, and how those practices transformed the ways in which family members related to each other. Creating, designing, and playing videogames require creativity, knowledge, and multitasking skills, which Gerard and Jake both acquired. As children are natural creators, Craft (2001, 2010, 2013) states that children behave as creatively “possibility thinkers,” in which they generate “new realities, through asking ‘what if?’ and imagining ‘what if”” (Craft, 2013, p. 131). According to Craft (2013), adolescent children like Gerard and Jake become empowered through their engagement with digital media (i.e., video games) rather than seen as a risk. Craft draws on four key points of “changing childhood and youth inherent in the digital revolution” as “plurality of identities”, “possibility-awareness”, “playfulness of engagement”, and “participation” (p. 7). For this study, “playfulness of engagement” became a relevant feature in how Gerard and Jake use the online space that they inhabit to engage in make-believe spaces as if their engagements come from real life. According to Craft, individuals like Gerard and Jake become self-creators through gaming and generate content from their own learning.

Games are no longer constructed to be short and simple to play; rather, they are longer and challenge players in multiple ways (Gee, 2004). Gerard and Jake’s attitudes, skills, and practices vary significantly in the home and school settings. As such, digital technologies will continue to cultivate new practices and identities for children like Gerard and Jake to learn optimally as students learn to multitask and develop different skill sets for use in varying venues in this society.

Based on Gee’s (2003) 36 learning principles, I gravitated to and found principles, Identity #8, Multimodal #20, and Insider Principles #36, to be the most relevant throughout Gerard and Jake’s learning during the video game and of themselves. The Identity Principle positioned Gerard and Jake to constantly play with identities and make choices about how they created and manipulated artificial life from characters which told of objects that were meaningful and real to them, but also told how identity work and play were key mechanisms in how they engaged, co-constructed, and identified themselves. For instance, Gerard and Jake’s dig-entities (digital identities) of characters in The Sims 2 game revealed how producing and video gaming held meaning to their natural selves and personal influences. Understanding their literate identities in a digital environment meant understanding not just what they said or created but how they chained modes together in complex ways to design, negotiate, and identify.

In addition, the frameworks informed in this study focused on the Multimodal Principle that highlighted how meaning and knowledge were wrapped up in the modalities that were carried out in Gerard and Jake’s practice. Playing The Sims 2 gave Gerard and Jake the freedom to create a character using special effects, designs and colors. Their choices were made through a collaboration of sorts (e.g., Gerard telling and Jake doing). Jewitt (2006) reminds us that there is more to engaging in “multimodal computer applications” (p. 76) than written words and speech but that there are a range of resources that all work together. These modes communicate meaning to the reader. The nonverbal channels (e.g., gestures, proximity, and posture) carry meaning in social interactions (Norris, 2004) to create multilayered stories that provide us insight into their literate identities. These identities create an Insider Principle in which Gerard and Jake, became co-producers, co-constructors, negotiators, and problem solvers in this learning practice from the beginning to the end of the video game.

Considering “performance of identity in online spaces” (Thomas, 2007) is significant to acknowledge how, through Gerard and Jake’s multimodal co-construction of and with Jake, we are forced to unpack power, race, and digital ontologies of self when individuals choose to perform in online spaces and bring themselves and their characters into being.

Power. Issues of power dominate certain practices and relationships in the home and on local and global levels. Barton and Hamilton (2000) argue that “Literacy practices are patterned by social institutions and power relations, and some literacies are more dominant, visible and influential than others” (p. 8). Power is “produced and enacted in and through discourses, relationships, activities, spaces and times by people as they compete for access to control of resources, tools and identities” (Lewis, Enciso, & Moje, 2007, p. 17). Foucault (1984) describes power as “productive” when it is developed from interactions and relationships. However, as in most relationships, there is always one who is more dominant than the other—an imbalance of power that is maintained in various spaces. As power relationships develop and are embedded in everyday social practices, some are less visible and less supported. I chose to highlight how adolescents like Gerard and Jake want and need to provide power structures when co-constructing, negotiating, and creating in online spaces.

During their interactions, Gerard and Jake showed us discourses and participation with Jake, and the modes used revealed how their relationships have influenced digital literacies. We see how digital literacies have influenced and provided a new insight on today’s digitised families and their relationships, changing and challenging them over time. Jake appeared to enhance power structures when creating Jake by deciding to call their character’s name Jake when both of them were engaging in this activity. Saying, “I’m blonde so I’ll make him like ME!” also revealed that he took control of the identity of their character. Jake’s verbal and nonverbal control of commands via the remote control exemplified power through unspoken rules. However, Gerard guided and coached Jake through Jake’s transformation, which afforded apprenticeship models and negotiating skills, materialising new transformations and constructions of self. Issues of power are also linked to how individuals see themselves within fictitious online activities. Thomas (2007) states:

Children are learning skills of collaborative problem solving, technological literacy, and how to manage responsibilities of power. They are also learning to accept and understand themselves better as they experiment with elements of their own identities. Furthermore, they are learning to understand, tolerate, and live with a range of other people from diverse backgrounds: all desirable skills for their social futures” (p. 186).

Gerard’s and Jake’s narratives and actions serve as backdrops for how both boys acknowledged themselves as strong components in their roles of creating Jake, interpreting multimodal modes and codes; as well as in their roles and responsibilities of having and emphasising power. They reacted to their commands, were drawn to the character’s features, make up, and actions, and valued certain actions and outcomes over others, all while relating to one another in time and spatial contexts.

Race. This work also offers insight into how binaries are interpreted in digital literacy research that can create oppositions in how game creators and others view issues like race. Kirkland (2013) suggests, “it is important to understand race as an element of history not to be separated from the bound compartments of time to which is forever tied” (p. 117). However, there still lies a mask of how discussions of race are perceived via digital tools. In a popular video game blog, Good (n.d.) stated, “[I]n American games industry dominated, marketed to and consumed mostly by white males, discussions of race and class can quickly hit a wall, blocked by insistence that the subject is inappropriate for a pursuit that should be colorblind in basis.” The fact that the participants in this research are African Americans from urban communities is significant to how they construct meaning and process the digital in their worlds and others that look like them. It is also significant that the Internet, video games, and other digital tools work to “differentially screen users by race, ethnicity, and language use” (Nakamura, 2008, p. 33) even when African American youth ages 8-18 play 30 minutes more video games than Whites (Roberts, Foehr, & Rideout, 2005) and most of the characters feature young white males (Packwood, 2011). For instance, individuals have the choice to change and distort video game characters to different ethnicities and positions, yet very seldom do we have to explain such digital literacy practices when individuals are from the mainstream society. It is known that these digital literacy practices are mostly associated with these types of individuals rather than those of color. Therefore, what needs to be explored are the links between adolescents, identity formation, and gaming across contested spaces in the home, especially for adolescents of color.

Banks (2006) suggest that “we know almost nothing about the uses to which African Americans put digital technologies or the processes by which they develop the skills, abilities, and approaches that will enable them to use computers, the Internet, or any other related tool or process in culturally relevant, individually meaningful ways” (p. 68). Nakamura (2008) describes a lack of visual culture of computing among African Americans and Latinos. However, she adds that movies like The Matrix trilogies attempt to depict African American males as a driving force to computers and as sound members in cyberspace, reproducing white male privilege. Yet, she shares that in games such as Avatars, “black men are underrepresented as game designers” (p. 18).

Putting a label of color on families like Gerard’s and Jake’s makes their story significant, yet when I report on African American families’ digital literacy practices, it is difficult for some researchers and reviewers to understand that there still lies a post-discourse of the digital divide era of adolescents like Gerard and Jake, who have access to digital tools and are avid digital literacy users and strategists, but who are marginalised by their sophisticated digital literacy practices. Banks adds that Blacks who have agency online and have crossed the Digital Divide talk b(l)ack “to postmodern theories of race, to ideas about the role of technology in African American life, and to thoughts about how to address problems of systematically differentiated access” (p. 72). In addition, he notes that most individuals claim a Black identity—one overtly described in their usernames—on dating online services, chat rooms, or on African American-geared information/educational sites. Therefore, I identify how race is a necessary component to have when describing Gerard and Jakes’ participation with their Sims 2 character and themselves.

Digital Ontologies of Self. Throughout the themes in this study, an important meta-theme suggests the notion of ontology and what it means for adolescents “to be” their real and virtual selves. For Gerard and Jake, the ways they engaged online are the same as they are offline, as they describe who they are and how they understand their literacy practices and the choices they make. Through this, I argue for digital ontologies of self to highlight what it means “to be” when creating and engaging in digital literacy practices and our representations of ourselves. For instance, we all have notions of who and how we want to be when ideas, decisions, and images are formed in our minds. Having a digital ontology of self extends projective identities (Gee, 2003) in video games, but also adds to a fluidity that creates ways and practices that we then embody.

Gerard and Jake constructed themselves in ways that were comfortable for them and how they think. Their beings were involved in their co-construction and creation of Jake. As such, their gender, ethnicity, age, and multimodal choices all create their digital ontologies of self. For instance, when Jake emphatically describes himself in the beginning of this article and later follows with “Yeah, that’s what I like to do. I have to make him look like me,” suggests a dualistic immersion of himself in designing the character to look like him, as well as process through which he was becoming the character. Through this ontology, both of their identities were being shaped by and through the modes, choices, activities, and digital tools they co-constructed and produced. Turkle (1995) suggests “[Y]ou can be whoever you want to be. You can completely redefine yourself if you want…you can just be whoever you want” (p. 184). Her comments confirm how Gerard and Jake were able to co-construct their character but to play out their (Gerard and Jake) fantasies of Jake in each of their minds while negotiating the desires of what they each could be. In addition, Norton-Meier (2005) shares her own lessons learned from being a gamer:

The video game has a unique perspective in that the consumer (who is also the player and learner) becomes the producer of an ongoing story line much in the same way a reader does with a choose-your-own-adventure book. The video game has the potential to push an individual to learn and think cognitively, socially, and morally. Players actively create new virtual worlds; participate in complex decision making; and think reflectively about choices that were made, including the design of the game (p. 430).

Norton-Meier’s experience strongly relates to Gerard and Jake’s roles when creating, constructing, and negotiating the Sims character Jake. Interestingly, these concepts can also extend to classroom settings.

Implications

As students are learning about and growing up in the digital world, their ways of learning is new and different, making them “digital natives”. For teachers and teacher educators, new approaches and paradigms for teaching and learning in the 21st century are needed to make learning real, relevant, and fun for today’s students (Prensky, 2010). Thinking back to this research on Gerard and Jake, two digital natives, their at-home digital literacy practices of gaming revealed numerous ways in how they learned individually and collectively that can be brought into the classroom. While research has suggested that there are dichotomies in how video games are separate from school literacy practices, Gee (2003) states the opposite. There are shared literacy practices that are hidden and visible, but all are similar in that adolescents use them to construct their identities and understand their literacies, multimodalities, and selves. Therefore, it is important to acknowledge the use of digital tools that adolescents bring from home into the classroom. While this work highlights two African American adolescents, Gerard and Jake, and their practices while engaging in a video game, the practical implication is not to suggest that teachers and teacher educators must allow video games into the classroom. Rather, my aim is to acknowledge the skill sets and learning principles that students develop from these practices, and to extend this topic to larger frameworks on literacy learning.

Videogame Literate Practices School Literate Practices

Identities

Agency

Critical Thinking

Communication Skills

Processing

Problem Solving

Reflexivity

Develop Ideas

Generate Choices

Introduce Strategies

Collaboration

Make Changes

Apprenticeships

Sequencing

Interpretations

Engagement

Affinity Spaces

Experience Academic and Personal Achievement

Figure 4. Videogame and School-based Literacy Practices

Figure 4 reveals similar practices for literate learners in schools and within the digital world. These skills suggest that there may be something missing in how we get students to learn in this era. If we consider teachers and teacher educators’ own literate histories, they need to remember that literacy practices come in all shapes and sizes, ethnicities, and behaviours. First, teachers and teacher educators should remember their schooled experiences and the difficulties of learning in their particular school environments and cultures. It is also relevant to remember the make-believe characters who informed their literate histories of who they were while growing as students, and who they were as conduits of learning across a generation of potential scholars. Within this vein, we should shift to thinking about the ways in which today’s adolescents navigate and attempt to understand the many fun, exciting, yet distracting elements of the digital world that relate to their literate selves. Think of the countless times today’s adolescent identities of who they are, how they relate, and how they are perceived and socialised on websites, texts, and artefacts shift their thinking and epistemologies.

Second, teachers should welcome parts of adolescents’ selves that make them who they are that inform and transform their practices in and out of schools. Assignments that build on and acknowledge their ethnicities and multimodal modes—assignments like multimodal literacy autobiographies and digital stories—allow them the space to be active creators of who they embody in their world, and can make for better and more effective learners and literate beings.

Third, teachers and teacher educators need to remember that artefacts carry modes that adolescents create, negotiate, and produce, and that they should allow students to maintain and keep an artefactual journal in which to write, type, or produce multimodal assignments to capture objects that they like and that relate to both the skill sets in the classroom and in their literate selves. It is a real concern if teachers and teacher educators do not know what to do with adolescents like Gerard and Jake in their classrooms. As described by Woodcock (2010),

“[W]hen teachers focus on how students think and feel what their purposes and values are, what rules might govern their literacy practices, and how those practices may be hindered by school, teachers close the negative gaps between students’ everyday literacies and their school literacies, whether we are talking about the body or any other element” (p. 379).

While Gerard and Jake played The Sims 2 all night in Gerard’s home, their special engagement and environment brought about a different kind of learning that is often missed in schools. Shifting the environment from the four walls of school learning to the world in which they live will create different learning structures that extend beyond their natural selves. Gerard and Jake became “digital connoisseurs” (Katz, 2005) who, through their relationships, created and produced a life art form or artifact through power structures, modal choices, and complex and different ontologies of self to learn about themselves and others and to gain cultural capital (Bourdieu, 1990).

Gerard and Jake’s digital literacy practices exemplify the ways most adolescents co-construct, negotiate, and create meaning through video games while formulating digital ontologies of self within their online spaces. Their experiences extend through the construction and production of texts while illuminating the ways in which power, race, and identifiable notions of self are developed in real and online virtualities. This research explored how Gerard and Jake infused their online fantasies with real life desires that are common with adolescents in today’s societies.

Games such as The Sims 2 allow Gerard and Jake to be active problem solvers, to create and re-create meaning while recruiting identities in a way that could be equally relevant in schools. As video games become more sophisticated and demand more attention, it is vital for schools to capitalise on these media to enhance learning. My findings suggest that Gerard and Jake made meaning of the text in visually compelling ways through verbal narratives and pictorial images that represent how designers like themselves create multilayered stories and multiple literate identities. In addition, my findings indicate how creating online Sims forced the boys to make sense of and reconstruct their online and offline identities in the home.

This work also reinforces and concludes how literacies and social practices are often embedded in multimodality, construed, and then redirected to include new ways of exploring literacy learning—and they do so with the most mundane objects, such as video games. I add to the “funds of knowledge” (Moll, Amanti, Neff, & Gonzalez, 1992) theory by suggesting that the ways teachers learn and understand those funds is to closely examine artifacts and the culturally constructed personal narratives that surround them. In this way, we challenge educators to consider the everyday, normal, fluid literacies, the variety of modes, and the artifacts that expand learning for all students. Educators need to implement a perspective that takes material culture from everyday life into today’s classroom to inform students’ teaching and learning in ways that apply meaning to their everyday lives.

In an effort to learn more about the at-home literacies that our students bring into the classroom, it would be relevant to translate and/or connect these literacy practices into academic settings. There are resources out there that acknowledge out of school digital literacy practices, in particular around students and families of color, as real, intentional, and sophisticated that can help build tangible bridges to generalise that knowledge to academic settings.

Notes

i Computer and video games will be used interchangeably.

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Biographical Statement

Tisha Lewis Ellison, PhD, is an Assistant Professor in Language and Literacy Education at Georgia State University. Her research explores the intersections among family literacy, digital literacies, and multimodalities. She takes a critical perspective on how agency, identity, and power among African American families are constructed as they use digital tools to make sense of their lives. She was the 2012 recipient of the NCTE Promising Researcher Award, a finalist of the 2011 IRA Outstanding Dissertation Award, and a former fellow of the NCTE Research Foundation’s Cultivating New Voices among Scholars of Color Program. Her work has appeared in the Reading Research Quarterly, Journal of Adolescent and Adult Literacy, Literacy Research Association Yearbook, and Journal of E-Learning and Digital Media.

Contact: lewis.phd@gmail.com

Robert Nelson & Phillip Dawson

Published Online: December 15, 2014
Full Text: HTML, PDF

Abstract: Conversation and reading are regarded as essential ingredients of any discursive discipline.  However, though clearly central to learning and integral to study, conversation and reading are anything but essential in the sense of absolute, unchanging and eternal.  Our article reveals how both conversation and reading mutate and develop historically, serving intuitions of the learner’s autonomy and interactivity, which also evolve.  This backdrop of change contextualizes speculations about the impact of digital technology upon conversation and reading.  Our own invention of a conversation simulator (or conversation sim) reveals that conversation and reading can be integrated in any Learning Management System (LMS).  Pointing to a new educational genre, this method for virtual learning demonstrates how automated educational technologies contribute to the ongoing reinvention of reading and conversation:  thoughtful absorption in a text and verbal interactivity over a topic.

Keywords: History of reading, history of conversation, LMS, learning management system, assessment as learning, history of ideas, automated assessment, quiz

Introduction

Reading and conversation sit in a reciprocal relationship:  reading is a one-way process which ideally immerses the reader in the thought of the writer, while conversation is a two-way affair in which the participation of one interlocutor conditions the intervention of the other.  But for all their differences, the beguiling quality of both is that they have some magical quality of one another.  The absorption sought in immersive reading has shades of a conversation, where the mind of the reader engages with the thought of the writer as if there were potential for conversation.  And meanwhile, a good conversation that is headed somewhere has an informational structure and is not merely a chaotic string of reactions but a kind of text jointly constructed by the conversationalists, a little bit like collaborative writing, where the two participants ‘read’ one another’s intentions.

That would be ideal; but history suggests that neither conversation nor reading has grown with the inflexion of one another’s virtue.  Quite the contrary:  they have grown separately, united only by being set against a somewhat tense backdrop of authority.  The reason we want to begin—though hardly complete—the historicizing of conversation and reading is that we have invented a way of bringing them together with a learning technology.  We call it a conversation simulator or conversation sim, by which elaborate content can be presented not as a simple reading but a participatory cycle of proposal and feedback which rather characterizes conversation.  In this article, therefore, we first outline the historical basis for believing that conversation and reading have not been the constants of culture that we might assume; second, we provide an outline of the scholarly approaches to reading and conversation in the context of the digital age; third, we introduce and explain the conversation sim, demonstrating some of its capacities for bringing reading and conversation together; and finally, we conclude with the hope that new technologies, annihilating neither conversation nor reading, might visit the genius of one with some vivacious inflexion of the other.

Historicizing reading

Reading has always been a fragile activity, cultivated best by people with much leisure in epochs of humanist privilege.  Reading has often been constructed around pleasure, which dominates our consciousness for good reasons, as in Alberto Manguel’s (1998) eccentric and grainy History of Reading.  As seductive as reading is for us, it sits somewhat precariously between authority and intimacy and, in earlier times, it was situated very much on the side of authority.  In the days when reading was largely confined to clerics and nobility, reading was positioned close to the tablets of the law.  It is almost synonymous with obedience, in the same way that the very word obedience is about listening, as revealed by its Latin etymology (ob+audire, to hear; cf. the same motif in Greek, υπακούω).

In the Old Testament, reading is often public and directly linked to obedience (Exodus 24.7, Deuteronomy, 31.10–12, Joshua, 8.34–35).  It respects the absolute observance of the statutes as a fearful form of ascetic practice:  ‘he shall read therein all the days of his life: that he may learn to fear the Lord his God, to keep all the words of this law and these statutes, to do them, neither to deviate left nor right’ (Deuteronomy, 17.18–20).  Reading is not only public but demonstrative:  there is repeated use of the phrase of ‘to read in their ears’, as if drumming the covenant into the head (2 Kings, 23.2, again 2 Chronicles, 32.18, 34.30, Jeremiah, 36.6, 10, 13, 15 and 21); and elsewhere the ears are attentive (Nehemiah 8.2–3, 8.8).  Reading is performed standing up and it takes a quarter of a day (Nehemiah 9.3).  The reading may be for skilled people but the listening is identical for people of all classes, from prince to the lowest (Baruch 1.3–4).  To be ‘priest and reader of the law of the Lord’ is an epithet given to those who ‘read in the broad court before the holy porch from morning unto midday, before both men and women; and the multitude gave heed unto the law’ (Esdras 8.41; cf. ibid. 8.8, 9, 19, 39, 42).

This discipline of reading equates with a dedication to God, because the immutable tablets belong to him; and we feel that some vestige of this holy trust remains in reading practice, where we expect the reading to put us in contact with the wisdom that we lack, often of a pre-emptive kind:  we can learn either for profit or to forestall what will otherwise harm us.  Reading as the study of fate is expressed by Shakespeare’s metaphoric language, where reading is already a kind of prophetic dream—sublime and impossible—as Hotspur articulates:  ‘therein should we read The very bottom and the soul of hope, The very list, the very utmost bound Of all our fortunes’, 1 Henry IV 4.1.49).

In Hebraic tradition, much jockeying and arguing would have occurred over claims to knowledge, which was rooted in book-learning.  Like today, people of learning transact their authority on a somewhat competitive basis, proving that others have either not read or have forgotten what they have read.  Jesus uses this line frequently:  ‘have ye not read in the law’? (Matthew 12.3–5, 21.16, 42, 22.31, Mark 2.25).  Reading is therefore not without anxiety; and a further cause to worry is that one might read but not understand, which is why one says:  ‘whoso readeth, let him understand’ (‘ο αναγινωσκων νοιετω, Matthew 24.15, Mark 13.14), echoed in Petrarch’s line suggesting that not every person who reads understands (ogni uom che legge non s’ intende, 105.46).

In ancient Greek, the verbs for understanding (or recognizing) and reading are cognate, only a preposition apart:  ‘Understandest thou (γινωσκεις) what thou readest?’ (αναγινωσκεις; Acts 8.28–30).  Paul also obtains strong emphasis from the near duplication of verbs: what you read (αναγινωσκετε) or what you acknowledge (επιγινωσκετε, 2 Corinthians 1.13).  It is almost like a contract, where an offer is chased by consideration.  Thus, through the same language, the text is assimilated within people themselves:  ‘Ye are our epistle written in our hearts, known and read of all men’ (γινωσκομενη και αναγινωσκομενη, 2 Corinthians 3.2).

This metaphorical suggestion that you can read someone’s heart furnished the early renaissance with the idea that inner emotion can be read on the outside, as in Petrarch’s sonnet declaring that you can read on the outside how much he flares up inside (di fuor si legge com’ io dentro avampi, 35.5–8).  Elsewhere, you can read the depths of the heart upon the face (del cor profondo ne la fronte legge, 147.6; cf. 222.12).  Not surprisingly, given that the soul itself reads as well as sees, hears, speaks, writes and thinks of so many different things (204.1–2).

By the end of the renaissance, reading acquires a subjectivity which allows it to become a metaphor; but even as a metaphor, ‘reading’ really only means detection, a motif that centres on honesty.  Luciana thinks that dissimulation is logical if you are going to be dishonest.  So if you sleep around and ‘truant with your bed’, your transgression should not show up in your face:  do not ‘let her read it in thy looks at board’ (Shakespeare, Comedy of errors 3.2.18).  What one reads in a face is likely to be suspicious, as Buckingham says: ‘I read in ’s looks matter against me, and his eye revil’d me as his abject object’ (Henry VIII 1.1.125).  Accordingly, you may want to conceal your feelings and not be read, as in Luciana’s line: ‘Let not my sister read it in your eye’ (Comedy of errors 3.2.9).

It is as if reading moves from the institutional to the metaphorical without an intervening moment of intimacy; there seems no place for what we love in reading, where the transaction with a remote voice seeps through the mind of the reading subject.  As readers, we agree to activate the voice in the text.  It is we who bring the voice to life, whereas even Shakespeare’s ambitious usage suggests rather a process of divination, a form of scrutiny that yields information, an analytical faculty, which is maintained to the present time, as when spectators claim to be able to read artworks.  In such examples, as in the baroque, reading is understood as an act of penetration by the reader:  the reader penetrates the text (or the person by analogy to the text).  It is the reverse of my sensation of the text penetrating me when I let the ideas enjoy their freedom in my imagination.  These meanings remain to be explored in the industrial period in which the contemporary practice of intimate reading evolved.  The history of this development would make another project; and it must suffice at this stage to conclude that reading, even in glamorously imaginative periods, did not entail the rhapsodic engagement that we nowadays associate with this key intellectual activity.

Conversation

Analogous observations can be made of conversation.  There are curious paradoxes in the respective histories of reading and conversation.  Given that spoken language antedates written language by an unthinkable interval, we might expect that conversation has a much longer history.  But it is by no means self-evident.  People talk in ancient texts, sure enough, but do not refer to their talking as conversation.  It does not arrive at consciousness by that name, which suggests that it may not have been practiced in the same way as it is today.

One often imagines that the Platonic dialogues are a form of conversation, which in one sense they clearly are; but they belong to a genre of philosophical inquiry and testing which is more of a discipline than a conversation.  As in Buddhist pedagogical cultures, the master puts the student through his or her paces.  It is a common mistake to imagine that the word dialogue refers to two people speaking (hence the term monologue or the neologism ‘polylogue’ to pluralize the polarity of dialogue, as in Wikipedia, sv., or the French page polylogue.org).  But dialogue derives from the preposition for through (δια -), which has nothing to do with two (δυο).  The concept does not involve numbers.  A dialogue can be held by one person, a bit as with the English word discourse or discussion.  Despite efforts to distinguish these concepts on the basis of their criticality (Brookfield, 1999, ch. 1) in many ways the conversational stands out because of its organicity.

Historically, however, it was not always so hospitable to flux and banter.  Like reading, conversation—once it is remarked upon as something other than talking (like the Greek ‘ομιλία)—is also somewhat institutional.  Conversation does not always or immediately mean the gorgeous interchange that we think of, akin to leisure and ideally centred over coffee.  In the renaissance, conversation also means something more like social intercourse, people frequenting one another’s ambience and making up their company.  The word can sometimes even be translated as company, consorting with or having contact or even dealings.  So in a letter introducing one of his stories, Bandello notes that Augustus Caesar was constrained to confine his daughter and neice within certain places and to ‘prohibit their contact (conversazion) with men’ (1.36).

In the next story, Bandello speaks of a sick person with an abominable and horrible contagious disease, contact with whom (la cui conversazione), the whole world abhors and flees (1.37).  This form of meeting is spurned for clinical reasons, not because the person is so boring that you would run a mile.  And in the story after that, a character says that in eight days he would have a clear opinion of the future ‘if I bring myself to mingle with them (conversar con loro) or spy on what they do and the regions that they pass through and the churches where they go’ (1.38).  In all of these cases, the word can still be satisfactorily translated by our ‘conversation’; but the meaning is not as intimate as in our epoch.

Throughout the renaissance, the idea of conversation might better be translated as socializing.  No one in the renaissance would ever say:  in our conversation, you said…  One does not say ‘in conversation’—as Nietzsche would say (im Gespräche, Jenseits 266 and 333)—as if conversation is a vessel with contents.  From the outset in the fourteenth century, conversation is a practice rather than a live text where things are said and remembered.  Conversation wants to be decent (conversar honesto, Petrarch 354.10) which is also a reflection on the calibre of the participants.  It can be very suave (Bandello 1.15) or mirthful and pleasurable (gioconda e piacevole. 1.24).  And just so, in a letter to signor Ettor Fregoso, conversation is described as yielding delightful and joyful recreation (lieto e gioioso diporto), with witty and pleasurable speaking (parlari piacevoli e faceti 2.48).  But even so, the meaning is often associated with the act of being in a certain company, and is sometimes coupled with ‘frequenting’, as in the comely garden of Girolamo Archinto in the Brera region where a fine company of gentle spirits had assembled for discussions (ragionamenti) and Bandello praises the conversation of  ‘a young man of excellent letters whose conversazione delights and is desired the more one frequents it (piú è frequentata, 1.54).

Of all writers, Bandello the priest was also in a good position to criticize certain holy men and their conversations with nuns:

speaking all day long and conversing with the nuns, they take on a domestic familiarity with them; and for this reason sometimes the conversation which ought to be totally spiritual becomes carnal and turns into the ‘resurrection of the flesh’.  3.61

By Bandello’s day, conversation had already been defined as a key element to be managed skillfully in courtly practice.  For example, Francesco Guicciardini declares that he does not want to exclude people from common discussion and from conversing together with charming and lovely domesticity (conversare insieme con grata e amorevole dimestichezza, Ricordi 184); and so too in Baldassar Castiglione, the themes of conversation and familiarity are linked (Cortegiano 1.3), though again, this urbane author insists on the efficacy and delightfulness of conversation (1.14 and 2.7) as a sine qua non of the courtier (2.17, 2.18), some of which has to do with speaking to people of unequal rank (2.25).  But true to the pattern noted, one talks about conversation rather than talking within a conversation (2.31).

Similar observations can be made through the writings of Montaigne (‘if his conversation importunes you’, Essais 3.3), where the French mirrors the Italian usage in a transactional or operational emphasis.  And so, for that matter, does Shakespeare’s English: ‘your converse and business’ (Othello 3.1.40).  Space does not allow us to scour the whole of baroque literature, much less what followed; but it seems that throughout the ancien régime there is nothing which describes that organic incubator of content which we think of today, and which may have been expressed by Nietzsche when he says of two interlocutors: one seeks the midwife for his thoughts (Geburtshelfer für seine Gedanken) and the other seeks someone whom he can help; thus a good conversation arises (136).

It is not surprising that somewhat patchy traces of conversation are to be found in pre-industrial literature, given that western culture has long been devoted to defining and clarifying; and conversation is organically mobile, inventively self-cued and  resists definition or clarity.  But like the richness of reading, the endless pregnancy of conversation can be contemplated through attempts to replicate or simulate it.

Reading as early technology of learning

The written word was one of the first educational technologies, and it is changing.  Reading, which has remained much the same activity for as long as there were books, has also evolved, not just in the volume of participation but the headspace that it supports.  Though existing for millennia, books became more accessible in the renaissance with the invention of printing; then reading was greatly cultivated with Protestantism, where it would no longer be confined to a humanist elite but seemed integral to a pious life.  Reading received further emphasis in the industrial period, where it was linked to key competencies, a tool essential for many occupations, especially with the rise of technology and tertiary industries.  Consequently, to be illiterate is a terrible problem, because essential intelligence cannot be transacted without reading and writing.

If we are to move toward a critical scholarship of educational technology, there is a need for an examination of the histories and contexts in which technologies are used (Selwyn, 2010), and reading as a learning activity should not be exempt from this analysis.  Although reading may be considered the most banal of educational technologies, in various disembodied forms, reading has also become a key to global youth culture on the Internet.  It is a paradox, because the viral growth of chat (instantaneous communication by reading and writing) arises with a suspected decline of immersive reading (Buzzetto-More et al., 2007; Piscioneri and Hlavac, 2012), which is the absorption of delicate narratives that form the basis of the humanities.  We must also accept that our students may experience or conceptualize reading differently to us (Weller, 2010), and may be strategic in their close reading choices which a clever LMS design might be able to influence (Adlington and Wright, 2012).

So with the simultaneous resistance to reading and its exponential spread into personal interaction, we are both charmed and alarmed.  Historically, reading and other forms of communication have neither been in a direct nor a reciprocal relation.  The growth of printed books did not discourage face-to-face education.  Few lecturers in any epoch had cause for concern that the availability of books—many of which might be more learned and succinct than a lecture—would have a corrosive effect on the classroom.  The very word lecturer means reader, whence the two words may be put together in a somewhat monitory or instructional sense (Shakespeare, ‘I have heard him read many lectures against it’, As you like it 3.2.365; ‘read no other lectures to her’, Taming of the shrew 1.2.148; ‘we read lectures to you’, Coriolanus 2.3.243; ‘To read a lecture of them?’ Richard II 4.1.232,); and shortly after Gutenberg, it might have appeared that the lecturer would become redundant, given that the contents of a lecture could often be absorbed more economically by means of print media.  But over the centuries, the lecture theatre has lost little of its prestige and has remained the key spatial motif of humanities education, even though as a mode of dissemination it seems to lag technological progress by a half millennium (albeit supplemented with slide-shows), requiring people to huddle in a place and time of the university’s choosing, at considerable personal and environmental inconvenience.

Lectures

Lectures have the allure of the performative.  The reason for their obdurate appeal against so much technology might have to do with the witty and enchanting way in which knowledge and thinking are activated and dramatized in real time by the lecturer.  You do not know, as you do with a text, that the next words have been adequately formulated.  Thoughts lie somewhat in the balance, and the audience enjoys a kind of thrill in apprehending the lecturer’s rapid ratiocination in delivering what may have been planned optimally but not yet scripted.  The audience thus witnesses the lecturer actively rehearsing thought, going through a tense but pleasurable cognitive process and hence demonstrating its energy and joy.  It might also be argued that vivacious lectures delivered by means of videos embedded in an LMS (learning management system) invite a similar performative engagement with the viewer.

Learning Management Systems

While the lectern is still tenanted by charismatic scholars, a revolution has occurred around them in the advent of the LMS. Lecture-content can now be deposited in one form or another, tutorial-content disseminated, readings given out, discussion-forums held, small work-groups convened and even certain types of test administered.  The uptake of these packages has been swift and few university courses are without their support.

With a pessimism towards educational technology recently justified by Selwyn (2011) we entered the Learning Management System as skeptics, believing that these systems could do little but dump a sclerotic version of performative and organic intellectual content, whose dead electronic hand would serve, at best, to highlight the vivacity of the live presentation.  The lecture that has already been given and is recorded in televisual lock-off is tedious, dead, like cold coffee, able to match neither the adrenaline surge of a lecture in real-time nor the crafty surprises engineered in the mis en scène of film and television.

With the ‘trojan mouse’  (Brown, Paewai  & Suddaby, 2010) of an institutional migration to a new LMS, we have been prompted to revise and reconceptualize pedagogy, because the LMS offers new insights into reading and conversation.  Our approach has concentrated on the overlap between reading and conversation and is structured around student-computer relations rather than student-teacher relations or student-student relations; because student-teacher and student-student forms of conversation are the least like reading.  Like other scholars who recognize that ‘texts produced in association with digital technologies are hybrid, fluid and multimodal’ (Lea & Jones, 2011, p. 380) we see the transformative potential of a new genre of writing and an experience of reading that paradoxically clinches the very elements of reading that are most vulnerable in the electronic age.  However, the virtues of the LMS would not have arisen in our imaginations had we not first been suitably pessimistic, à la Selwyn, about the greater potential for digital mortification.

The LMS presents an opportunity to build a community, for students to talk to one another and for us as lecturers to participate in discussions.  Although clearly good and Socratic, from the moment it became available, this facility also brought difficulties with it, some of which only exaggerate structural difficulties before the LMS.  Discussion forums are useful but, in structural terms, we are only using the computer as a kind of accelerated post-office.  For the individual academic, the arrangement augments the already overburdened inbox with prolific chatter that self-generates on a level that is difficult to influence.  Either you allow much dubious content to self-propagate or you constantly have to intervene, like a paranoiac constable, monitoring discussions that are either wide of the mark or out of hand or boring with florid platitudes, inducing a depressing effect on bright students who are alarmed at the communicative promiscuity of mediocre students (at least in their view).  Large enrolment courses frequently see thousands of discussion posts expressing a mess of confusion and repetition.

In a tutorial, a slower student who is about to bore the speedy students can be thanked, with the case summarized to its benefit, so that a high standard of conversation is maintained.  Feedback can be provided quickly, tactfully, and in a manner that directs learning toward the intended outcomes. Asynchronous discussion tools coupled with mountainous workloads diminish the ability to intervene as a person writes, and as a result this proactive diplomacy of the tutor is difficult to achieve.  The indisposition is like the problem of having either too little discussion (which makes any electronic lecturer anxious) or too much.  A good tutor in a classroom can handle either situation by means of encouragement and the creative use of pauses or much smiling, or alternatively—when everyone wants to speak at once—a loud voice that says:  ‘please, let’s hear what Jessica is saying’.  However, a counterpart to the live language of blandishments, appeals and calls to order is challenging, albeit not impossible in the electronic classroom (Salmon, 2006).

Electronic conversation has to be handled tactfully, because digital communication chaotically exaggerates signs of impatience or sarcasm, and indelicate phrases can rapidly escalate to rudeness (Lu, 2010; Bordia, 1997).  The result is a horrific burden—as Shakespeare would say, ‘of a most facinerious spirit’—the like of which has never descended on academics in the history of the university.

To escape from this threat, we wanted to create our own conversations, which in a sense we have always sought when we aspire to be an engaging writer, where we trust that our train of thought follows the spirit of a conversation, with one idea coming up behind another, a bit like the gentle rhythms of a conversation (‘the converse of breath’, as Shakespeare says, Loves labours lost 5.2.745).  A vivacious text always presents an inflected voice; so in a sense it already simulates aspects of the conversational.  But now—and this is our theory—we can do better in creating a form of text that simulates conversation.  The computer will allow the reader (let us say our students) to take part in the flow of ideas, not by adding material but by choosing from various options.  We think of this as a conversation sim.  It simulates some of the more decisive conditions of taking part in a conversation (Nelson & Dawson 2012).

Conversation simulation

Using the multiple choice quiz tool of any LMS, it is possible to construct a conversation that presents a sequence of statements. We might begin with an unanswered problem or a proclamation that represents some embarrassment, of which ethere are thousands of in cultural subjects, and which any tutor is likely to float at the beginning of a class.  The tutor waits for an answer; but frequently either none is forthcoming or an errant response is given; so the tutor then manipulates the group to get the desired elements of a good answer.  So in the conversation sim, the computer then proposes a rough answer to the question.  As in the tute room, it might be very shrewd or somewhat naive.  The next step is for the student to decide:  is it a good answer, a poor answer or perhaps a good answer and perhaps not.  Receiving the student’s verdict, the computer then returns feedback on whether the student’s decision seems prudent or otherwise and gives reasons.  Essentially, the conversation sim takes this structure:

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See Figure 1 below for an example graphical representation, using an MCQ plugin on Wordpress; this is available live at http://conversationsim.org

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Figure 1. A conversation sim running on Wordpress.

There are four voices in the conversation.  An example is the following from a senior unit dealing with research ethics.  The title for the lesson is ‘Beyond ethics as drill’.  It begins by stating a problem in the voice of a somewhat confused and worried person, implicitly a researcher who has no time to read the university’s compendious Doctoral Handbook or refer to the Research Integrity Policy every time a decision has to be made about a candidature:

I’m a bit worried that research is a field in which we’re harangued by rule-keepers and process-police.  Not that I’m an anarchist, but can you point me to some principles, so that I don’t need to be indoctrinated and then monitored forevermore in an uneasy relationship with dogmatic regulations that I’m sure to forget?

The question is fair and somewhat necessary, and not necessarily overstated.  In spite of the wayward and slightly grumpy voice, it has a degree of credibility, suggesting that learning rules by rote is not sustainable and hence seeking broad principles instead that underlie the rules.  No response is required of the student at this stage, because another voice contributes a proposal.  In a patient and supportive conversational acknowledgement of the problem, it says:

That’s a very good question.  It would be better if we didn’t have to observe rules but rather possessed a sense of fairness which would obviate the grand regulatory preoccupations and make the several committees redundant.

At this point, the student has to decide if this response deserves a ‘yes’, a ‘no’ or a ‘maybe’ or alternatively ‘agree’, ‘disagree’ or ‘partly agree and partly disagree’.  As soon as one of these options has been selected, the computer returns feedback, carefully inflected according to the choice that the student made.  In all cases, it suggests that probably the prudent answer would be ‘maybe’.  It goes on:

In principle, perhaps; but the problem is that the sense of fairness that you invoke is somewhat open to disparate interpretations.  Sometimes, we don’t see that our behaviour is unfair.  And sometimes, ideas of fairness—however we scrutinize them—differ sharply among researchers, and not necessarily because of our respective private interests.  So we prefer to think of a common process to negotiate and socialize what is fair in each circumstance.

A quality of all good conversations in cultural subjects is that (a) they are open ended, (b) they invite plural perspectives and (c) they handle doubt.  As Nietzsche says, ‘in conversation, assigning right or wrong to either interlocutor is more a thing of familiarity (Angewöhnung):  the one like the other has sense’ (Jenseits von Gut und Böse 334).  So the computer repeats the initial problem and presents the student with another response, which is quite different to the first:

The core principle is that no one should get hurt by our research.  It’s not a lot to ask.  The rules, as you contemptuously describe the delicate network of consideration, are about protecting people from harm.

Once again, the student has to decide if this response deserves a ‘yes’, a ‘no’ or a ‘maybe’.  The feedback is also coy about agreeing with the student if he or she gives assent to the response.  Again, speaking in the first person, the computer argues for a ‘maybe’.

I guess at a pinch you could call it a core principle; but there’s a prior value, namely that our research should do good:  it should be to the advantage of humanity and other living creatures or valuable planetary systems.

It does not clarify everything.  A conversation seldom does.  It does not go on to explain that avoiding harm is only a small part of doing good, or that sometimes you can do a great deal of good while enduring a teensy bit of harm.  Conversations are organic and inventively cue themselves by the last thing that has been said.  They take up directions because something has just been uttered which triggers an imaginative response and calls for a further argument or a different theme to be introduced.  So in our example, the next encounter takes up where the last left off, as if remembering the point from the computer’s feedback.  So once again, the initial problem is rehearsed and another response is given again:

An equally strong principle is that the world should benefit by our research.  It comes to the fore especially when our work handles people with fewer privileges than we have.  Our research benefits us but it doesn’t necessarily benefit our subjects.  In one reading, this is mere exploitation and, even though undoubtedly legal, is unethical.

This time, the voice of feedback in the computer is positive, praising the student for clicking ‘yes’ and quizzing the student for equivocating and disapproving for saying ‘no’.  It elaborates the suggestion, declaring:

Yes.  Our research clearly benefits us—because we hold down good positions and get publications, grants and gain authority—and we have lots of incentives to do what we do.  But if nothing flows back to our subjects and their community, we researchers are a kind of carpetbagger.

The voice of the computer here is also the voice of the lecturer, which (in the case of questions of ethics in research) implicitly speaks for the university.  So it is quite a cheeky apparatus, with a degree of presumption folded into the advice.  Every tutor experiences this rush of trepidation in assuming the voice of the university when interrogated by students about processes, and there are always temptations to toy with the rules.  Perhaps the slightly wayward turn of phrase deconstructs the high institutionality of the utterance; after all, questions of ethics are seldom capable of a totalized answer, as if comprehending all perspectives from a wide range of stakeholders.  So, through the writing, the computer has to equip itself with a non-robotic sentiment.

Most importantly, the element of doubt is insisted upon throughout the process.  First, doubt is projected by the question expressing some aporia; second, doubt is directly acknowledged by the presence of a ‘maybe’ or ‘partly agree and partly disagree’, which gives credence to the idea that an answer may be neither right nor wrong (not just that we cannot decide); and finally, doubt is accommodated and celebrated by the proliferation of responses to the original dilemma.  In the structure of a conversation sim, there are always four points of riposte.  And so the final response to our issue of research ethics is the following:

Ethics should be constructed around ‘dos’, not ‘don’ts’.  Unfortunately, regulations are structurally negative; and, as with occupational health and safety provisions, they’re seen in terms of embarrassment-prevention, liability, consequences, audits and risk-management.  Alas, this wily anticipation of failure sometimes seems to lack good faith:  it equates with brand-protection and perverts the positive and enduring point of ethics.

The computer is happy if you agree to this assertion.

Yes.  Paradoxically, this negative inflexion is a risk in any university.  And that’s where we look to you to show research leadership.  The concept of ethical research yielding a benefit to the people or creatures or ecosystems that we deal with as subject matter needs all the good faith it can get.  It’s the larger and socially generous dimension of research leadership.

While all of this conversation has been occurring, the students have just been reading.  It is a form of reading quite different from following the dialogue of a play, for example, where multiple voices answer one another in a conversation on stage.  The playwright has orchestrated the dialogue to be vivacious and inflected with wit and drama, no doubt enjoying the morbidity of characters who have a predictable defect in their thought and projection.  But the structural difference between the play and the conversation sim is that the reader of the play, like the audience in the theatre, has no input beyond following the banter, beyond the subliminal gasps or groans or laughter.  In the conversation sim, however, the student becomes the third interlocutor (admittedly somewhat taciturn) in a chain that ends with the lecturer’s wisdom.

Understanding the quality of learning from a conversation sim is challenging; the medical education community finds with its own simulation approaches that designing and executing studies that measure the transfer of simulated skill to actual practice is difficult (McGaghie, et al. 2010), but there is some evidence for approaches that privilege the narrative (Bearman, Cesnik & Liddell, 2001).  If assessment’s ultimate goal is to develop students’ lifelong ability to make judgements within the assessed domain (Boud, 2000), then practice with a conversation sim may have merit: although the student has no real voice; their entire experience is one of passing judgement, which is itself assessed.

It is clear that the conversation sim is neither a proper conversation nor a reading in the sense of immersive reading.  It is, however, a useful hybrid which has some of the advantages of both reading and conversation, and it has a special application in the context of an LMS, where it can also be linked to student-student discussion.  First, we rehearse a kind of conversation where the participant is guaranteed to be on-topic.  There is no chance of an irrelevant response or a mediocre thought that depresses everyone in the virtual space.  The whole encounter is entirely within the lecturer’s control and nothing is left to the probability of having excellent students as opposed to bombastic or lazy ones; and the monitory attendance of the lecturer is unnecessary, as the class can be 5 or 500, with no greater effort, in the same way that books can be read by any number of people in a way which does not affect the quality of anyone’s experience of the text, which can be as rewarding for the millionth reader as the first.

Second, we conduct a kind of reading in which the reader is not entirely passive.  Admittedly, the text blocks are short and err to sound bytes in their construction.  It is not deep reading.  But that is not to say that it does not prompt deep thinking.  The only limitation is the writing skill of the author in proposing ideas in condensed poetic antitheses.  The genre encourages the invention of aphoristic counterpoint, as if an extension of the ancient genre of apophthegmata or the pensées of the renaissance and baroque.  So the nature of writing in a conversational vein also becomes a subject of interest throughout.

Conversational reading

As freely acknowledged, a conversation sim is not a real conversation, nor does it directly facilitate student-teacher or student-student interaction.  But how apologetic we need to be for the gap remains unclear.  Any form of reading is conversational only to the degree that it provides the illusion of a conversation, given that there is only one interlocutor in the room.  How often and under what circumstances are writing and reading a simulation of conversation, as in the dialogues of Plato but more conspicuously in the long tradition of plays, which are so frequently read rather than performed in the theatre?

Most writing is somewhat conversational, because we seem to have a kind of interchange between text and us.  The text tells us something and hopes to persuade us.  Meanwhile, we judge and assimilate, just like when someone talks, and look for our moment to formulate a response.  In reading, we know that there is no reciprocity beyond the intimacy of imaginary convergent thought, nor can there be any reinforcement from us:  the text is deaf and we are dumb.

But just as we should not underestimate how dynamic reading is, so we should not overestimate how organic conversation is.  Much conversation is a case of two people scrambling for a toehold on one another’s soliloquy, which was satirized memorably by La Rochefoucault:

One of the things that causes us to find so few people who appear reasonable and agreeable in converstion is that there’s hardly anyone who doesn’t think about what he or she wants to say rather than responding precisely to what has just been said to him or her.  The most adept and diplomatic adopt an attentive mein, while you see in their eyes and their spirit a distraction from what you’re saying to them and a keenness to precipitate a return to what they want to say.  (Maximes 139; see also La Bruyère, Des jugements 9 (VII))

But even when we strike a lovely conversationalist who asks lots of questions and supplements what we say and finishes our sentences out of sympathy for our views, a similar process occurs which we might recognize from reading.  The two processes have much in common, because in either case the mind is caused to follow and build a thought which otherwise might have no place there.

In either reading or conversing, we subject our minds to an external influence that causes us to think differently, even if momentarily, and to take on the voice and headspace of someone else, which is perhaps the underlying reason that the ability to handle contradiction has been suggested as the basis of readerly pleasure (Barthes, 1975).  The mind is normally autonomous and somewhat given to dictating its own thoughts beyond the stimuli that constantly attend through the senses; but language in either a fixed or organic form invites, to some extent, an alien organization of thought, someone else’s thought inside your own.  It is then up to us to determine suitable parameters for this intrusion, so to speak; a wider conspectus of doubt and riposte subtends the content and takes care of discrepancies between the mind’s prior inclination and the influence that it becomes host to.

Both reading and conversing are clearly rich processes which are healthy for all kinds of reasons, presenting cultures as well as individuals with a powerful motif of growth in consciousness.  But they are also (a) inscrutable processes and (b) remarkably recent in any sense that contemplates their overlap.  Having outlined how both reading and conversation have been traditionally circumscribed by archaic social institutions, we feel that we have usefully identified a stimulating nexus that could be further cultivated through digital technology.

Toward new forms of reading and conversation

We contend that our understanding of both reading and conversation is historically determined; consequently, our current epoch, which offers new opportunities to simulate conversational structures through technology, provides scope for development in these bastions of education and intellectual life.  It is likely that new kinds of reading and conversation will arise in the future; and with technological developments becoming so widespread, it seems reasonable to imagine that the educational computer might become the host to new conversational structures between teachers and learners.

Setting up a conversation sim is easy, once the academic has conceptualized his or her content in terms of searching questions.  We have exploited the multiple-choice format, because it accommodates longer slabs of prose and the options remain one-liners:  yes, no or maybe.  But other engines inside an LMS will afford other benefits.  Similar conversational reading also can be structured by perverting the ‘survey’ option or ‘feedback’ or ‘choice’, depending on the LMS.  They will all allow a sequence approximating our string

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though the reflexion may not be so easily adjustable according to the decision that the student made.  As in a real conversation, where the interlocutors need to work out how long they will occupy the other person’s time, there are choices of length to be made within the genre which determine the appropriate tool.  In essence, though, the computer offers the same structure, where the reading process has a response within it.  Historically, that is something new and points to a curious convergence with conversation that has much potential.

References

Adlington H and Wright G. (2012) Teaching close reading: A VLE-based approach. Arts and Humanities in Higher Education.

Barthes R. (1975) Le Plaisir du Texte, Paris: Éditions du Seuil.

Bearman M, Cesnik B and Liddell M. (2001) Random comparison of ‘virtual patient’ models in the context of teaching clinical communication skills. Medical Education 35: 824-832.

Bordia P. (1997) Face-to-face versus computer-mediated communication: A synthesis of the experimental Literature. Journal of Business Communication 34: 99–120.

Boud D. (2000) Sustainable Assessment: Rethinking assessment for the learning society. Studies in Continuing Education 22: 151-167.

Brookfield, S, Preskill, S. (1999) Discussion as a way of teaching: tools and techniques for democratic classrooms. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass Inc Pub

Buzzetto-More N, Sweat-Guy R and Elobaid M. (2007) Reading in A Digital Age: e-Books Are Students Ready For This Learning Object? Interdisciplinary Journal of Knowledge and Learning Objects 3: 239–250.

Lea R, Jones, S. (2011) Digital literacies in higher education: exploring textual and technological practice Studies in Higher Education, 36(4): 377–393

Lu S. (2010) A Tentative Study of the Impoliteness Phenomenon in Computer-mediated Communication. Cross-Cultural Communication 6: 92–107.

Manguel A. (1998) A History of Reading: Penguin Books.

McGaghie WC, Issenberg SB, Petrusa ER, et al. (2010) A critical review of simulation-based medical education research: 2003–2009. Medical Education 44: 50-63.

Nelson R and Dawson P. (2012) Conversation sim manual (draft-in-progress) at http://conversationsim.org under the tab ‘Manual’

Piscioneri M and Hlavac J. (2012) The minimalist reading model: Rethinking reading lists in arts and education subjects. Arts and Humanities in Higher Education.

Salmon G. (2006) 80:20 for e-moderators. In: Mac Labhrainn I, McDonald Legg C, Schneckenberg D, et al. (eds) The challenge of ecompetence in academic staff development. Galway, Republic of Ireland: CELT, NUI Galway, 145–154.

Selwyn N. (2010) Looking beyond learning: notes towards the critical study of educational technology. Journal of Computer Assisted Learning 26: 65–73.

Selwyn N. (2011) Editorial: In praise of pessimism—the need for negativity in educational technology. British Journal of Educational Technology 42: 713–718.

Weller S. (2010) Comparing Lecturer and Student Accounts of Reading in the Humanities. Arts and Humanities in Higher Education 9: 87–106.

Numbers to classical and biblical texts follow the standard reference system derived from the canonical editions used in lexicography.  Different editions and translations have disparate pagination, whereas the canonical numbering is consistent.  Similarly, the numbering used in renaissance and baroque texts follows the order of canto/stanza for epic poems, act/scene for plays or book/story for novelle or essays.

Biographical Statements

Robert Nelson is Associate Professor and Associate Director (Student Experience) at Monash University. The key theme of Robert’s research is how the aesthetic interacts with the moral and the educational. Email:

Contact: robert.nelson@monash.edu

Phillip Dawson is a Senior Lecturer in the Office of the Vice Provost (Learning and Teaching) at Monash University. Phillip’s research explores how academics make decisions.

Nada Chaiyajit

Published Online: November 15, 2014
Full Text: HTML, PDF

Abstract

Currently, access to sexual health information that serves the needs of transgender individuals is non-existent or severely limited.  With “Getting to Zero” as the official UNAIDS campaign to achieve zero new HIV infections, zero discrimination and zero AIDS-related deaths, this lack of access to information coupled with immense stigma and discrimination among transgender individuals will not allow UNAIDS nor the world to achieve such impressive goals.  This paper identifies gaps and challenges in HIV services for transgender individuals living in Thailand.  Among other recommendations, the paper recognises the need for the ‘de-coupling’ of transgender services from those serving men who have sex with men.  The paper describes an innovative communication technology project, the Thailadyboyz (TLBz) Sexperts! Program, a low-cost, transgender-led, community project offering accurate online transgender-specific sexual health information, social support and legal advice.  The paper describes how the TLBz Sexperts! Program exemplifies the power of online communities and social networking platforms in reaching transgender individuals, especially when transgender community members lead in the design, development and implementation of such resources.

Keywords: Transgender, HIV and AIDS, Getting to Zero, UNAIDS, Sexual Health Information, Thailand

Introduction

Throughout the world, there is a lack of transgender-specific sexual health information, even on the Internet where one would expect to find a lot of this information. Even more glaring, access to online transgender-specific sexual health information in native languages is particularly limited. In Thailand, a country recognised as a world-renowned medical hub for sex reassignment surgery (SRS), such information is almost non-existent (Aizura, 2010).

To date, most online resources dedicated to transgender individuals’ health and wellbeing are based in high income countries.  Examples of extemporary resources are the web site of the Center of Excellence for Transgender Health at the University of California, San Francisco; the Gender Health Resource Guide developed by The American Congress of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists; Transgender Women – Transgender Health Matters by the Terrence Higgins Trust in the UK; the Gender Centre Inc.’s online platform, which is supported by the New South Wales Department of Human Services in Australia; and TransHealth, a U.S.-based comprehensive web-based clearinghouse that has a list of organisations that provide information and resources on a variety of topics related to transgender health. All of these resources are English-language websites. Transh4ck, developed by Dr. Kortney Ziegler, is an innovative open source web-based approach to tackling the socio-economic obstacles experienced by the transgender community, including unemployment, relatively lower salaries, homelessness, and discrimination across multiple social services, including access to adequate healthcare services. Not only is the establishment of these online resources providing transgender individuals in these high income countries and other English-proficient individuals with easily accessible vital and potentially life-saving sexual health information, they also serve as a web-based platform designed to help bring the transgender and gay/MSM communities closer to achieving the UNAIDS goal of “getting to zero”, which calls for zero new HIV infections, zero AIDS-related deaths, and zero HIV-related discrimination worldwide.

Unfortunately, to date, Thailand remains on the sidelines in the promotion and implementation of technologically innovative sexual health resources for transgender people. This paper aims to highlight the stigma and discrimination faced by the transgender community in Thailand, efforts implemented by Thai-based transgender-focused community organisations to address these and other barriers to accessing healthcare, and recommendations to help Thailand not only be recognised as a medical hub for sex reassignment surgery, but also as an leader in ensuring access to quality transgender health information and championing the social, economic, and health rights of all transgender individuals.

Background

Currently there is only one location in Thailand (Pattaya) that provides comprehensive, transgender-led services for transgender people.  The services are unique in that they are tailored to meet the actual HIV prevention and care service needs of the transgender community. Sisters, an transgender led and staffed organisation, is able to accomplish their efforts by working closely with key public health officials in Pattaya and by actively promoting healthy sexual behaviours among transgender persons.  As for the rest of country, Thai community-based organisations (CBOs) have been tasked with conceptualising and implementing virtual or web-based general health support services for the transgender population.  Rainbow Sky Associate of Thailand (RSAT) in Bangkok, Mplus Foundation (Mplus) in Chiang Mai, Health and Opportunity Network (HON) in Pattaya, and Andaman Power in Phuket are four prominent CBOs that have taken on the challenge of addressing the online sexual health information needs of the transgender community.

Despite efforts made by CBOs in Thailand to offer information to transgender individuals via a stigma-free, non-discriminatory, and easily accessible online platform, most sexual health initiatives targeting the transgender community are a sub-component of programming intended to address sexual health and HIV needs of men who have sex with men (MSM). For example, The Silom Community Clinics in Bangkok and Chiang Mai offer general sexual health services to both the MSM and the transgender community. RSAT, Mplus, and Service Workers IN Group (SWING)–which provides services to sex workers in Bangkok, Pattaya, and Koh Samui–also strive to provide appropriate services to the transgender population.  The fact is the sexual health knowledge and HIV prevention needs and wants of a transgender individual differ vastly from the needs of MSM. Transgender women and men require a safe transgender-specific space to discuss the sexual practices and behaviors that are specific to their individual anatomies, and a safe place to discuss the fear and struggles that accompany preparation for, and the experiences following, sex reassignment surgery. Currently, the resources available at CBOs and clinics to offer this vital public health service to the transgender population are severely limited.

The term MSM has been employed to describe a broad range of individuals where male-to-male sex is not framed so much in terms of homosexuality versus heterosexuality, or gay versus straight, but along a spectrum of masculinities and gender variance that incorporate ideas of feminisation, gender orientation, penetrative masculinity, desire, and sexual orientation. Although the majority of male to female (MTF) transgender persons who have undergone sex reassignment surgery identify as women, they are still referred to as MSM by key public health professionals and organisations. This unequivocally exhibits a lack of sensitivity and respect towards an individual’s self-defined sex and gender identity (Walsh et al.).

Ami B. Kaplan, an accomplished psychotherapist and committee member of World Professional Association of Transgender Health (WPATH) explains that the difference between gay men, MSM, and transgender individuals is contingent on the narrow definition of one’s sexual orientation (who you are attracted to sexually) and one’s gender identity (who you know yourself to be). While transgender individuals are now often lumped in the same category as gay men under the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) umbrella, there are specific differences between the groups that are vital to the identity and experience of the members of each group. Historically, transgender individuals have had to jump through many hoops in order to transition to their desired sex and gender. LGB individuals go through the process of “coming out”, but this does not require anatomical alteration. Transgender individuals also “come out”; however, the process is more complex. For example, many transgender individuals are required to address issues around body dysphoria as well as social acceptance. The transgender individual also employs more invasive medical processes such as hormone replacement therapy, voice alteration, facial hair removal, and other alterations (Kaplan, 2009).

In Thailand, male to female transgender individuals are legally identified as male.  Transgender people in Thailand cannot legally change their gender on their identification cards. This often results in difficulties in securing employment. Transgender individuals in Thailand report that potential employers have denied them employment due to misperceived complications with hiring transgender people. A “Thai phuying praphet song” (‘woman of a second kind’) carries a male ID card, and travels with a male passport, which she must use when she opens a bank account, applies for a job, and any number of other everyday activities (Winter, 2008). Current Thai law maintains that only the transgender person’s sex at birth can be reflected on the individuals’ passport. This practice creates confusion, forces the transgender person to “come out” in situations where he or she may not want to, and creates unnecessary scrutiny at border crossings and immigration checkpoints. Thailand also prohibits same sex marriage, meaning that when the partner of a heterosexual transgender person dies, the deceased’s family receives any and all assets, and the transgender individual is entitled to no inheritance (Armbrecht, 2008). As a result transgender individuals’ career opportunities are fettered by the discrimination they experience, often forcing them to accept stereotypical jobs such as waitress, hairdresser, make-up artist, and street vendor. This is true even if the transgender individual holds an advanced academic degree.   The alternative is often sex work.

Social, economic, and psychological discrimination experienced by the transgender community, as described above, places them at high risk for gender-based violence (GBV), HIV, and other sexually transmitted infections (STIs). Because transgender people are marginalised in Thai society, national healthcare providers and human rights groups have been slow to address acts of GBV against members of the transgender community. GBV is frequent in the transgender community and often results in devastating consequences for the victims, including physical, sexual, and mental harm and suffering (Thepsai & Walsh, 2008). This overt, and often unchallenged, abuse is not seen as a crime, but as a private family matter, leaving its victims feeling intimidated and fearful.

In an effort to address GBV experienced by the transgender community, the Health Policy Initiative, funded by the United States Agency for International Development (USAID), engaged CBOs and other health sector entities in a project aimed at screening transgender individuals for GBV in Pattaya, Thailand. The 2008 study found that 89% of transgender individuals surveyed had experienced some form of GBV (USAID, 2009). This degree of GBV combined with the transgender population fearfulness of reporting crimes to the police, their inadequate access to healthcare and HIV testing, and the economic pressures they face to simply survive in Thailand place this population at high risk, not only for repeat GBV, but also for HIV infection and the transmission of other STIs.

Effective Programming

Given the absence of opportunities and platforms to access information regarding the needs of the transgender community, transgender activists in Thailand established Thailadyboyz (TLBz.) in 2002. TLBz[1] is a 100% virtual community aiming to provide transgender individuals with an on-line community and a second home, where they can  safely communicate with each other about issues that specifically concern them. The online community is warmly referred to by members as the “Blue House” due to the website’s colour. Virtual services offered by TLBz include chat rooms for specific topics. The “Blue Sofa” chat room serves as a guest room for members who want to address general topics and welcome new members. The “Beauty Ladyboyz” chat room gives members the opportunity to share beauty secrets. The “Red Chair” chat room is a space where individuals can listen to and view audio-visual stories that are collected by the site administrator and site members. The “Beauty by Surgery” and “Taking Hormones” are the most popular chat rooms where people exchange information about their own experiences with hormone use and sex reassignment.

In 2011, amfAR supported the development and implementation of The TLBz Sexperts!, an online HIV/AIDS, human and legal rights counselling service run by transgender individuals for transgender individuals. The program continued under the oversight of Bridges Across Borders Southeast Asia Community Legal Education Initiative once funding for the program from amfAR ceased. The TLBz Sexperts! program was offered three hours a day, five days a week (Figure 1). The current adaptation of the program focuses on providing counselling services to male to female (MTF) transgender individuals across Thailand.

The implementation of The TLBz Sexperts! program did not come without its challenges. During the first month of services, only seven visitors utilised the services. However, TLBz Sexperts! have now provided counselling services to more than 1,300 transgender members through closed trans-groups on Facebook. TLBz Sexperts! offers online counselling via trained transgender counsellors.  The impact of social media and online networking influenced the way The TLBz Sexperts! program operated. The administrators realised that the majority of the transgender community were virtually connected, primarily via Facebook, so they adapted and began offering online counselling services exclusively through Facebook. The two Facebook groups created by TLBz Sexperts! are “Sao Praphet Song of Thailand” and “TLBz Sexperts!”.

TLBz Sexperts! aims to foster a safe, online community for the transgender community by employing the evidence-based popular opinion leader (POL) approach.

chaiyajit

Figure 1: TLBz Sexperts! Facebook website

By having strong, knowledgeable, and empathetic transgender leaders as readily available online counselors, TLBz Sexperts! offers members a unique opportunity to engage with individuals who understand them and are eager to share their experience. The POL’s primary responsibility is to ensure that members feel free to ask whatever questions they may have regarding their sex, gender, sexuality, sexual behaviours, and their basic human rights.

To gauge the effectiveness of offering TLBz Sexperts! services exclusively via Facebook, members were directly asked to comment on their experience. Most members stated that they felt no gap between themselves and the counsellors, even though the information disseminated by the counsellors is done virtually. Members stated that TLBz Sexperts! were instrumental in providing vital individual counselling services around issues commonly experienced by the transgender community and were effective in referring individuals to a healthcare provider to address an individual’s more clinical needs, such as screening for HIV/STIs. Below are a few comments shared by members regarding TLBz Sexperts!:

  • “I never thought that HIV would become a serious issue in my life before until I found out my HIV-positive status during an annual health check-up.  During that moment, I knew nothing about HIV/AIDS, and no one from the hospital provided me with adequate pre or post-test counselling services. I was completely lost. A friend of mine introduced me to TLBz Sexperts!, and I reached out, asking for more information about HIV/AIDS and a referral to a medical provider. TLBz Sexpert connected me to Silom Community Clinic, where I connected with other people living with HIV/AIDS like myself. I was linked to medical care, informed that the cost of my care would be covered by the social security healthcare plan in Thailand and placed on lifesaving HIV antiretroviral therapy.” – Malisa (TLBz Sexperts! member)
  • “Transgender people tend to want to communicate about their health needs with someone they know they can trust. TLBz Sexpert! is great in that I know I can communicate with a trusted leader and receive services anonymously. The fact that the TLBz Sexperts! staff remains connected to the community ensures the appropriate and timely dissemination of information. There is a need for the TLBz Sexperts! counsellors who are well versed in issues about the body and mind; individuals who are always sincere and honest in their approach. – Bombay (TLBz Sexperts! transman client)

In 2012, the TLBz Sexperts! program began recognising it was a “big thing that had a small beginning.” The TLBz Sexperts! staff pride themselves on this statement, because they aim to provide the best services available, even in an environment of no resources. An article describing the work of TLBz Sexperts! has been published under the title “Sexperts! Disrupting Injustice with Digital Community-led HIV Prevention and Legal Rights Education in Thailand” with Digital Culture & Education (DCE) and The HIVe (Chaiyajit and Walsh, 2012). Nada Chaiyajit, a TLBz Sexpert and program leader, was invited to record the podcast “Reaching the Transgender and MSM population through Social Media” by AIDStar-One, on behalf of USAID and the United States President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR). TLBz Sexperts! was also named an effective model for the transgender community by Avert in an article entitled “Transgender and HIV”.

TLBz Sexperts! is committed to the idea of “Sexpertise”. “Sexpertise” promotes transgender-grown initiatives that are specific to their community and that assist transgender individuals in better addressing the barriers that exist with being transgender, including anxiety brought on by social pressure to be and act a certain way and not being able to access or enjoy certain basic human rights, such as the right to one’s own identity—a right that transgender people are often legally denied in Thailand.

Recommendations

TLBz Sexperts! is actively engaging the transgender community by providing 100% pro-bono work within a volunteer system, which is one example of a resourceful approach to engaging the transgender community online; however, there is a need for funds for capacity building TLBz Sexperts! would be a more effective online peer outreach and prevention platform if all counselors possessed the skill set to seamlessly deliver information, not only about the HIV prevention and care needs of members, but also to speak knowledgeably about issues of self-esteem, body image, sexual pleasures and gender rights.  Several approaches that key funders can take to address the issues of HIV infection, AIDS-related deaths, and stigma and discrimination faced by the transgender community in Thailand  were developed by TLBz Sexperts! specifically for the transgender community in Thailand to expand the work that has been to date:

Best Sexual Life in Practice Workshop: This is a learner-centered workshop conducted in safe and friendly spaces that aim to invite pre- and post-operation transgender individuals and individuals who have no intention of surgery. The goal of this initiative is to bring together a diverse group of transgender individuals to share their sexual experiences and discuss best sexual practices in a safe environment. Brainstorming sessions would be conducted to address issues Thai transgender persons experience in accessing sexual health and information about HIV prevention and care, as well as institutional and non-institutional barriers to sexual health and transgender health. Participants would also discuss how Thai transgender persons embody transgenderism or transgress heteronormative gender norms to better understand what these mean and to design customised, holistic sexual-health resources that are specific to Thailand and are specifically aimed at building and strengthening Thai transgender people’s self-esteem. An emphasis would be placed on discussing concerns around HIV and AIDS, STIs, and voluntary confidential counseling and testing services to identify obstacles and myths that influence Thai transgender person’s sexual practices. This would allow researchers to better understand not only the biological pathways of HIV infection, but also the psycho-sexual and social determinants specific for the transgender community in Thailand. The design, implementation and evaluation of this initiative should be guided by an elected steering committee of Thai transgender individuals.  This would bring the virtual online community efforts to a physical environment with peer educators for skills building.

Continue and Expand Design of Online Resources through Sexperts! Brand & Website: The aim of this activity is to use data collected on specific transgender health issues via the current website to develop holistic information regarding sexual education, sexual practices, and other health resources. This new and improved online platform would address misunderstandings that arise from stigma and discrimination; address short-term and long-term complications from body augmentations, surgical procedures, or hormone and silicone use; assist Thai transgender people in better understanding their personal risk for HIV (in relation to pre/post/no intention operation); help Thai transgender people engage in safer-sex negotiations; and provide referrals to transgender-friendly sexual healthcare providers who are known to other transgender people to be adequately aware of transgender anatomy and issues (e.g., neo-vagina & STIs; ) to meet Thai transgender person’s diverse sexual health needs. It would also provide referrals to transgender friendly legal services.

Develop Transgender Holistic Sexual Pleasure, HIV Prevention and Care and Legal Rights Online Resources Center: The aim of this activity is to create capacity to post “Sexpertise” content online, including articles and links to informative videos that could be easily accessed by all registered online members.

Designa Video Series, Transgender Mama Talk: The aim of this activity is to employ nominated Thai Transgender Champions, who can also be POL, to produce a web TV episode series conceptualised, written by, and starring Thai transgender individuals titled, Mama Talk: Living a Happy, Healthy, and Sexually Pleasurable Transgender Life in Thailand. This online series would cover topics such as transgender health, transgender sexual pleasure, transgender HIV prevention, how to negotiate safe sex, accessing transgender sexual health, top transgender beauty tips, hormone use, sexual reassignment surgery, transgender legal rights in Thailand, and dealing with stigma and discrimination.

Conclusion

Everyone has a fundamental human right to enjoy the highest attainable standard of physical and mental health. Yet, it is evident that the key international organisations responsible for crafting and promoting health policy to help ensure everyone has access to this right need to do more to better highlight and promote the specific sexual health needs required by the international transgender community, so transgender individuals can lead the safest, most productive lives possible. ).

In order to truly get to zero HIV infections, zero AIDS-related deaths, and zero discrimination, international and national organisations must invest in transgender-specific research, interventions, and advocacy needs. Research topics should include the effects of ART on hormone use and sexual reassignment surgery and the sexual risks for individuals with neo-vaginas; finding more epidemiological and behavioral data on transgender populations (including transmen); and linkages between human rights violations and increased HIV vulnerabilities specific to the transgender community. More information is needed around HIV treatment and other essential health issues affecting the health and well-being of the transgender community.

A successful, web-based transgender community was developed for providing healthcare information and sharing experiences through online communities in web boards and other types of social networking in online support groups. The experiences from this collective were compiled into TLBz Sexperts! and reached out to 1,300 transwomen. Unfortunately, TLBz Sexperts program suffers from funding limitations and lack of staffing of experts on the issues concerning transwomen’s health. Recommendations for further development of the program are contingent on funding.

An expanded online platform where transgender individuals can safely exchange information with members and benefit from the counseling of comprehensively trained online popular opinion leaders is a necessary weapon in the fight to stem HIV and AIDS and decrease stigma and discrimination towards transgender persons in Thailand. Key international organisations like UNAIDS are in a unique and powerful position to promote and advocate for these initiatives as well as engage local community-based organisations, national governments, donors, and research institutions, and to encourage public-private partnerships to tackle the socio-economic and psychological struggles that unequivocally make transgender individuals a key population at high risk for HIV infection.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Kent Klindera, Elena Kelly, Cameron Wolf and Dr Christopher S Walsh for their support in assisting her in publishing this manuscript.

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