THE DYSTOPIAN FUTURES: A RELIC OF THE PAST

In “The Dystopian Futures” (Selwyn, 2016), Selwyn examines the discourse around learning technology and its implications on the conception of learning. In the context of the perceived overt optimism that has accompanied the "positive project” of learning technology, and which is characteristic of the “boosterist” (Bigum & Kenway, 1998) perspective, the chapter focuses on the dystopian narratives expounded by “doomsters”, whose views towards the technologisation of education are, in contrast, bleak and negative. He discusses six “recurring themes, stories or tropes”, henceforth referred to as ‘dystopian concerns’, that shape the doomster perspective, which he proffers must be considered for a more balanced discussion of the issue, and progress. Seven years on, this paper questions the value of that assertion.

It speaks to the rapid nature of the advancements in technology that in the seven years since the chapter’s publication, much has occurred. Many of the precise technologies that the doomsters were concerned with at the time have evolved to become more powerful, ubiquitous and intrusive. Meanwhile, many others have emerged, contributing to an unprecedented wave of a technologisation of life, in ways that “fundamentally alter the way we live, work, and relate to one another” (Schwab, 2015) and in which the lines between the physical, digital and biological spheres are blurred (Xu et al., 2018). Within education, the systemic embrace of technology has been unequivocal, with many nations establishing clear plans and policies to technologise education. COVID-19 has further accelerated efforts to place learning technology at the forefront of the educational experience (Dennen et al., 2022) and shift its perception from being a tool to support learning, to “a core essential” (Tay et al., 2021). Some might see these as examples of institutional or systemic boosterism. I would argue instead that against the backdrop of a burgeoning Fourth Industrial Revolution (Schwab, 2015), such a universal embrace of technology in education is more reflective of a pragmatic perspective, premised on a commitment to prepare learners for the future and an acknowledgement of the increasingly significant role of technology in learning and life. Rather than a choice to be optimistic about, as it might have been just a few decades ago, it is now quite simply an urgent and unavoidable need. In the context of such needful pragmatism, are the dystopian concerns still worth considering?

Let us discuss some of them. I will discuss the dystopian concerns of the displacement and de-professionalisation of teachers in tandem as they relate to the conception of the role of the teacher. As Selwyn’s expositions of the subject show, the notion of teachers being displaced by technology has existed since the 1960s. In a later book, he posits that in the context of recent advancements in the field of Artificial Intelligence (AI), the “long-held professional status of school teachers is definitely under threat” (Selwyn, 2019). It should be noted however that such a view has often been challenged, with opponents pointing to the enduring importance of teachers in providing for the intellectual, social and moral domains of learning (Collinson, 2001) as well as the limitations of technology in assuming the adaptive aspects of teaching (Carrillo, 2012, Kolchenko, 2018, Merikko & Kivimäki, 2022). What the debate does however is offer “a powerful opportunity to examine the changing role of the teacher” (Chesser, 2012). This is critical. In discussing the de-professionalisation of the teacher, the dystopian comparison with assembly workers is compelling, and alludes to the vulnerability they both share to being displaced or replaced by automation. It must be noted however that such a phenomenon is neither new nor unique to education. With every industrial revolution, many of the jobs of the preceding age are destroyed (Xu et al., 2018), and replaced by new ones that require different skills and competencies. Education is not immune to this, and it is inevitable therefore that the teacher’s role is subject to change. Rather than de- professionalisation, perhaps it would be more erudite to view it as an ongoing ‘re- professionalisation’. The dystopian concerns, it appears, have been impaired by an overly rigid conception of the role of the teacher.

Such rigidity of thought extends to the dystopian concern relating to the disengagement of the learner as well, which appears to belabour the tension proffered by Prensky in his conception of the digital generation gap (Prensky, 2005), between the digital native learners and digital immigrant teachers. In the current context of an infusion of digital natives into the teaching workforce, and their potential to mediate the experiences of their digital native learners and older colleagues, and between traditional and technologised conceptions of teaching and learning, the lines between the two supposed factions become increasingly blurred. The hypothesis of the disengaged learner, premised on the tension between the two, appears dated at best and at odds with the current landscape, and can only become increasingly moot.

The narratives that relate to the dystopian concerns about the dumbing down of younger generations and devaluation of knowledge, paint a picture of a generation of learners overwhelmed by a glut of information, that they consume without much regard for its worth, and to whose easy access undermines the need for thinking and knowing. The conception of learning, the doomsters would have you believe, has moved from knowing and understanding to a timely sourcing of information, lending itself to the notion of an “outsourced brain” (Brooks, 2007, cited in Selwyn, 2016). Such a picture is indeed alarming but the absence of the digital natives’ voices and perspectives in this narrative is telling. It seems to be overly representative of the digital immigrants’ view of the issue and alludes to a desire to maintain an existing order shaped by a traditional conception of learning. More pertinently, it seems to betray an underlying fear perhaps of the potential of such limitless access to information in equipping learners with the kind of powerful knowledge that could disrupt that balance of power.

The above notwithstanding, it must be acknowledged that as the world grapples with the increasing ubiquity of technology, some of the dystopian concerns have found their way into the mainstream consciousness. For example, issues relating to user privacy and security have, in recent years, dominated discussions of technology, appearing in many recent lists of the biggest challenges facing the field (Watters, 2023; Pratt, 2022; Young Entrepreneur Council, 2021). But such discourse has not been limited to within the technological sphere, and appear to be now part of everyday vernacular. The Facebook and Cambridge Analytica scandal, in which user data were harvested illicitly and used for political purposes (ur Rehman, 2019) and the recent US congressional hearings to ban the social media application, TikTok, are examples of events that have brought the issues relating to big data and data privacy and security to the fore. The emergence of AI and technologies such as ChatGPT, and related concerns of truth and accuracy (Chace, 2023), as well as their misuse, give prominence to concerns that resemble the doomsters’ worries about a “dumbing-down of the younger generations” (Selwyn, 2016) and intellectual kleptomania. In these contexts, the dystopian concerns have proved to be somewhat prescient.

According to Selwyn, the dystopian perspective is important in balancing the excessive boosterism within the learning technology discourse. Yet, in framing the discourse through the extreme perspectives of utopian boosterism and dystopian doomsterism, he has ignored those of the masses of administrators, teachers and learners, who in their intimate, day-to-day negotiations of this technologisation, perhaps hold a more utilitarian view. Surely, their perspectives and narratives matter and have the potential to shift the discourse towards a more centred view, rendering the need for that hypothetical balance between the two isms futile. Further, as often is the case with discussions of technology, pointed determinations of the issue, such as those presented by the doomsters, could lend themselves to being obsolete very quickly. Indeed, it can be argued that in the current climate and with the developments in technology and conception of knowledge and learning, such views have not aged well, betraying instead their proponents’ inability to adapt to an increasingly unfamiliar world. In popular contemporary lingo, they carry with them overt overtones of “boomer”-ism, a reference to the younger generation’s view of the older generation’s close-mindedness and resistance to change (Spector, 2019). While Selwyn has acknowledged the limitations of the dystopian narratives, his attempts to legitimise them to balance to the discourse come across rather tenuous. More importantly, they have not contributed to a defeasance of their inherent sense of a vacant nostalgia.