Removing Barriers and Enhancing Openness: Distance Education as Social Adult Education |
VOL. 10, No. 2, 87-104
One of the benefits claimed for post-secondary distance education is that it removes "barriers" to learning and is, therefore, "open"-as suggested in the title of the British distance learning university the "Open University" or British Columbia's "Open Learning Agency." However, "openness" and "accessibility," as they are currently understood, are not to be equated with the traditional adult education goal of providing education for participation in democratic society. Social purpose education, which leads to an enhanced participatory democracy, has been pushed to the margins of the purposes of traditional "western" distance education. It can be argued that, given the internal institutional constraints of delivery-centred distance education institutions and systems, distance education on its own cannot remove all barriers and become truly "open" and "accessible." Open, accessible, social purpose adult education can only be rebuilt in collaboration with other educational and community groups. In order to explore these issues this paper will begin by examining the barriers to education and then will consider ways to open up access in distance education.
L'un des avantages que revendique l'éducation à distance au niveau post-secondaire est de supprimer les « obstacles » à l'apprentissage qui devient donc plus « ouvert », comme le traduit si bien le nom de l'université britannique d'enseignement à distance, la « Open University », ou, en Colombie-Britannique, le « Open Learning Agency ». Il ne faut cependant pas établir de parallèle entre le concept de l'éducation traditionnelle des adultes, c'est-à-dire d'enseigner pour préparer les étudiants en vue de leur participation au sein d'une société démocratique. L'objectif social de l'éducation, soit la participation à la démocratie est un objectif secondaire de l'éducation traditionnelle « occidentale ». On peut alléguer qu'en raison des contrainte internes des établissements et des systèmes d'éducation à distance qui mettent l'accent sur l'enseignement, l'éducation à distance ne peut à elle seule obvier à toutes les difficultés et devenir vraiment « ouverte » et « accessible ». Un système d'éducation des adultes ouvert, accessible et jouant un rôle social n'est possible qu'avec la collaboration d'autres groupes éducatifs et communautaires. Ce document s'attarde donc sur ces questions; il commence d'abord par examiner les obstacles à l'éducation, puis étudie les moyens de rendre l'éducation à distance plus accessible.
Cross (1981) has categorized barriers to learning into three groups: institutional, situational, and dispositional. Distance education can address some of the institutional barriers, such as class scheduling, entrance requirements, and, perhaps, fee structures. (Although the shift to user-pay in the public sector is erecting new barriers to low income students.) It can also help to overcome many situational barriers facing students in isolated locations and those with demanding family, work, and community commitments. In relation to dispositional factors associated with previous learning difficulties or socioeconomic factors, distance education may have few advantages. Indeed the dependence upon written material and “independent” study of those materials may not aid students from educationally disadvantaged backgrounds or those who are used to social, dialogical learning that builds on personal experience. Cross does not sufficiently emphasize the socially constructed barriers of gender, class, and ethnicity (all categorized as situational) that open learning institutions need to address.
A good example of a distance learning institution committed to overcoming barriers to education is Athabasca University (AU), whose mission statement begins by declaring that:
Athabasca University is dedicated to the removal of barriers that traditionally restrict access to and success in university-level studies and to increasing equality of educational opportunity for all adult Canadians regardless of their geographical location and prior academic credentials.
This statement, however, is nonspecific. It does not specifically identify the “barriers that traditionally restrict access.” Although AU can claim some success in removing some barriers, particularly because of its policy of open entry and distance delivery, Athabasca, in common with other open universities and colleges, has not substantially increased social equality of educational opportunity. In this regard, Athabasca’s performance (illustrated below) is probably only marginally better than that of traditional universities.
The educational literature emphasizes the ways in which the socially constructed barriers of gender, class, and ethnicity have restricted access to educational opportunity. Other factors such as physical disability, age, and geographical location can also restrict access. Educationally disadvantaged groups, which include native peoples, women (particularly low paid, single parents, and welfare recipients), the working class (particularly unskilled, low paid, and unemployed), the physically challenged, immigrants (particularly non-white and non-English/French speakers in a Canadian context), northern and rural residents, older students, and prisoners, continue to be under-represented in post-secondary education (Ghosh & Ray, 1987; Livingstone, 1983; McIlroy, 1993).
Also, while private corporations are able to make use of colleges and universities for research purposes or training, other institutions, including non-profit and voluntary organizations, co-operatives, and labour unions, have been poorly served by them. Regardless of the variety of reasons that may be used to explain this situation, this observation nonetheless illustrates limited group and individual “access” for some to the resources of the colleges and universities.
Despite the previous comments, distance education, in general, can claim some success in terms of increasing access. For instance, some distance educators have successfully targeted courses at isolated groups such as aboriginal communities or prisoners and have achieved greater access for such groups than traditional institutions. Distance education has also attracted women students, who are sometimes referred to in the literature as coming to the institution for a “second chance.” For many of these women, however, learning via distance education may more accurately be considered a “first chance” to pursue a university education. For example, approximately 67% of AU’s students are women, the majority of whom may have had some post-secondary college education but may not have had the opportunity to complete their university studies. The opportunity to attain a university degree is particularly important given the higher correlation for women than men between earnings and educational qualification. (It should be noted that women students are now at or approaching 50% or more of the undergraduate full-time student population of Canadian universities. Although they continue to be under-represented in some areas, such as science and engineering, and over-represented in others, such as nursing and education. There are fewer full-time women PhD students, “second” degree students-law and medicine-and faculty. [University of Alberta, 1992])
It is worth noting, however, that with the possible exception of native students, women students at AU are not concentrated within the disadvantaged groups-the lower paid or welfare single parent. Distance education, then, while intending to increase access for disadvantaged groups, also increases access for older students who may be geographically isolated or excluded from regular classes because of shift patterns, seasonal or other kinds of work, and family and community commitments, many of whom, however, may come from the same socioeconomic groups as mainstream students.
The above examples demonstrate that there has been some success in meeting the objectives of open access, particularly compared to the performance of traditional universities. In addition, with particular reference to Athabasca University, such features as open year-round enrolments, comprehensive packaged materials, and telephone tutoring have been successful in removing some barriers and attracting:
However, much more work is needed if barriers are to be more effectively removed and distance education is to become equally “open” to all socioeconomic and ethnic groups. If the mission of distance education-in common with all colleges and universities-is to contribute to a “democratic” and “civilized” society (Taylor, 1993), then democratic access is key to institutional success. Some, who speak of the importance of maintaining a focus on excellence, will argue that to increase access is to lower standards. This notion confuses “excellence” with “elitism” and the latter does not constitute education for democracy.
How can distance education increase access to previously disadvantaged individuals and groups? It may be argued that there is no reason why distance education should necessarily be concerned with this issue, especially if “distance education” is narrowly defined and is considered in terms of “education delivered across space.” In this instance, distance education is linked to the system of delivery; it reaches those unable to study because of physical distance. However, this conceptualization of distance education usually leads to the expanded argument that distance education be used to remove barriers for others whose primary barrier may not be geographic. A major reason for establishing distance education systems was to reach groups that would otherwise not be able to access learning opportunities. Achieving greater egalitarianism in education was a primary motivation for establishing the British Open University; overcoming physical problems of distance was less important.
If the first question is “who should have access,” a second question is “access to what?” Most distance education in western society is designed as individualized learning for academic and vocational credentials. Much less is targeted as social purpose education (education to prepare for and facilitate change aimed at improving the social, political, and economic conditions of disadvantaged groups) or even at providing generalized non-credit liberal adult education (Wiltshire, 1980). It must be acknowledged, of course, that some education may serve diverse purposes, depending upon the students’ own goals. Students may use a particular course to meet individual and/or social purposes. For example, a student may enrol in a credit English course not to satisfy degree requirements but rather to enhance her or his participation in political or community activity.
If, however, the primary purpose of most educational endeavours is to serve the economy and is considered to be an investment in “human capital” such that students, companies, and society will advance economically (Schultz, 1961), then it could be argued that the “educational” experience is very limited and that it provides little access to liberal or critical adult education. Given the individualized and asocial nature of the individual learning experience provided by the more traditional approaches to distance education, it may be that this approach to learning is best suited to delivering the more limited educational experience discussed above. (It must be acknowledged that computer- and video-conferencing may render the learning experience less isolated and more social. However these technologies may also be less “accessible” to some.) By extension, it could be argued that distance education should perhaps be satisfied with increasing access to learning opportunities that serve an economic end. If this is the case, satisfaction with accomplishing this goal should not mask the failure to promote access to “social” education as it is described here. And, importantly, success in one area should not be allowed to dictate a narrow purpose. It is argued here that distance education can serve diverse and even opposite educational goals.
There is some evidence that distance educators are becoming more interested in the social dimension of distance education and a little less obsessed with the latest delivery systems as ends in themselves. The 1995 deliberations of the Canadian Association for Distance Education (CADE) conference substantiate this point. This observation does not mean that distance educators have embraced a broader social purpose to develop more diverse interests in and for democratic society. It does, however, provide an opening.
How can distance education serve the social purposes of adult education in the next century? If distance education consciously uses more social forms of learning (for example, group and co-operative learning) and if it is linked to social movements, there is greater likelihood that the kind of educational experience (including experiential and critical knowledge) that leads to diverse social purposes may be realized. For example, instead of emphasizing individual learning that is designed to serve a company’s economic goals by preparing future human resource managers, a learner may be provided with an opportunity to learn how to work with others to establish a genuinely democratic self-managed enterprise. In this example, the distance learning institution could provide vocational technical knowledge linked to the meetings of a community enterprise group.
Establishing such links is difficult because it is at odds with the notion of “manufactured consent” (Chomsky, 1994). In this context “consent” refers to the belief that to compete in a global economy it is necessary to attract investors who, in turn, are attracted by the availability of a highly skilled and educated workforce. (However, according to Swift [1995], the actual evidence to support this point of view is slight.) To mobilize distance education to support sustainable development and a local economy is to resist the corporate drive to globalization. If distance educators are to be a force for democracy, they must contest the external “reality” (recognizing the multiplicity of realities, depending upon perspective). Equally as important, they must recognize the internal constraints of the distance education institution itself.
In his industrial model of distance education Peters (1983) has addressed the internal constraints referred to above. He considers distance education to be similar to a form of industrial production that depends on division of labour, mechanization, rationalization, quality control, and mass distribution. It could then be argued that an increasing dependence on technology for delivery of distance education learning experiences can entrench existing social and economic forms. Reliance on capital intensive distance education, manufactured within an industrial model, can lead to a kind of education that is even more supportive of capital investment and increasingly less accessible to educationally disadvantaged groups. The obsession with technologically advanced delivery systems and carefully structured knowledge, which Evans and Nation (1987) refer to as “instructional industrialism,” work against the creative symbiosis of knowledge and experience that is needed for social purpose education. Concentrating on technology can mask the way education can be used to achieve student conformity and to ensure adaptation to a dominant ideology.
Typically, however, the traditional views of the role of a university or college educator have combined with internal interests regarding delivery systems and financial constraints to push social purpose distance education to the margins. An exception to this is the way distance education is organized in some economically disadvantaged countries. There education is often targeted at social goals and is in many cases experienced in social groups. For example, a women’s health group might gather in a remote settlement, where a radio link with a health educator facilitates their discussion. The purpose is not just to learn about women’s health issues, but to do so by using information drawn from the communities in which the discussions are held. Other inspiration for the kind of distance education objectives promoted here can be found in historical examples of “distance” adult education such as the work of Frontier College, which involved worker-educators travelling to and working and teaching in logging and railway camps (Fitzpatrick, 1920). Yet another example is the National Farm Radio Forum, which introduced agricultural and social issues which were then examined in local listening and discussion groups (Selman & Dampier, 1991). It is important to note that in all the examples noted above, discussion and learning occurred in a group context.
At this stage it might be useful to look at some definitions of distance education and assess them in terms of openness and accessibility. Keegan (1980) identified six elements present in other well-established definitions of distance education:
In terms of delivery this list distinguishes distance education from more traditional forms of face-to-face education. However, the criteria of “openness” does not feature in Keegan’s core definition. With the exception of his reference to the Peters’s industrial model, this list is not particularly helpful in pursuing questions of openness and access. It hints at flexibility in delivery and recognizes that students can be at a distance from the teacher and can, therefore, overcome spatial and time barriers. However, there is no link to a broader definition of openness or accessibility.
Garrison, in common with some other writers on distance education, has supported a view that “distance education is a species of education characterised by one structural characteristic-the noncontiguity of teacher and student” (1989, p. 8). He therefore argues for an understanding of distance education to be located in the broader study of education itself. His discussion of adult and distance education (pp. 103-113) is limited, however, by his concentration on “voluntarism” and “self directed learning” as key features of adult education, features which ignore adult education’s social dimension. He refers to the early experiments in adult education, which often had a distance education component, but does not draw out the social purpose and accessibility embedded in those experiments.
If these and similar definitions of distance education are not particularly illuminating, we need to look to other educational theories. We may look to Cross (1981), for instance, who has categorized barriers to learning. However, as noted above, she does not give sufficient emphasis to the socially constructed barriers that open learning institutions need to address. Nonetheless, she opens the door to a discussion of social education/learning as a way of overcoming such barriers as previous educational experience and subject relevance.
Next, we turn to Dewey whose social learning emphasizes the use of small groups, dialogue, emotional support, individual and group experimentation, and praxis. These are all elements that have been identified with Freirian methods and new social movements (Freire, 1970; Friedmann, 1987; Welton, 1993). These elements can be seen in juxtaposition to traditional distance learning’s emphasis on serving the needs of individual learners-an emphasis that may explain the popularity of distance education amongst policy makers and “new right” politicians. The challenge for distance education is to include social learning within the delivery system. To identify the dominant form of distance education as “instructional industrialism” does not necessarily imply that it cannot be changed.
If it is accepted that these distance and other educational paradigms provide limited models of social purpose adult education (or “education for democracy”) we have to look elsewhere. For example, Bouchier’s (1987) claims for the role of “democratic groups” within a new model of radical democratic citizenship can be extended to social purpose education, in that such groups can help form the links “between everyday experience and political interpretation, providing the support and confidence an individual needs to take the step from personal to political action. Once public action is entered, it gives the experiential basis for a broader, critical view of society as it is and might be” (p. 491).
This expression, which resonates with other similar propositions of social change education, including Friere’s (1970) conscientization, seems very distant from the everyday experience of distance learning institutions. It is for these reasons that it could be argued that social purpose education, education for participatory democracy, can only be rebuilt in collaboration with other educational and community groups. The internal institutional constraints of distance education works against the complete removal of barriers and the achievement of full “accessibility.” Indeed, in a case study of the British Open University, Harris (1987, p. 3) argued, that “every kind of openness associated with distance education seems to have its opposite side, a tendency to closure, which also has to be considered.” A simple example of this is provided by the increased use of computer conferencing, which results in greater student interaction but only for those who have the equipment and skills to participate. A more complex example also draws on observations regarding computer conferencing-admittedly, observations that have yet to undergo empirical investigation. I am referring to the observation that students may choose to discuss the “easier” aspects of a problem at the expense of the more demanding.
Three scholars from Deakin University have adopted a critical perspective on distance education similar to that which is being argued here (Evans & King, 1991; Evans & Nation, 1989). They locate distance education within education and social science. They reject a delivery-centred approach and argue that much distance education should be understood as text production and reproduction and that critical theory and critical reflection can rescue distance education from the social relations embedded in educational technology and tradition. To achieve this, students need space to discourse with the text, create their own text, and to be more self-directed and independent learners. The Deakin edited collections include a number of case studies that address these questions and provide examples of critical practice (some of which are more convincing than others). This kind of work is also proceeding in a number of other locations, including Athabasca University, with courses designed to allow greater student choice, more open ended projects, experientially based assignments, and interactive materials. In arguing for critical reflection, for locating study within a broader yet critical understanding of the social, the Deakin and other scholars marry critical theory and praxis to some insights gained from postmodernism and so avoid too definitive (“modernist”) a purpose for education. Before adopting this stance it might be instructive to search for the purpose of education in a writer who was not troubled by post-modernist critique.
An illuminating model for North American educators of adults (including distance adult educators) can be rediscovered in the writings of Eduard Lindeman from the 1920s through the 1940s. He warned against modernity’s impersonal, atomising, and inherently oppressive forces:
Democracy is no longer to be taken for granted. The new age, dominated by science, technology and industry, calls for a reinterpretation and a reaffirmation of our democratic way of life. We have not yet adapted ourselves to an industrial civilisation. Our lives are fictionalized. Our responsibilities are varied and more easily evaded. The older patterns of society from which democratic leadership emerged automatically no longer exist. Our human relations are strained; communication between professionals and laymen becomes a more hazardous undertaking. We may continue to repeat the old Eighteenth Century ideals of equality, liberty and fraternity but the world expects us to define democracy in more realistic terms. We need not forsake the old ideals but we should now undertake the task of defining democracy in the language of practice. (1949, p. 179)
Lindeman saw adult education as the way of “defining democracy in the language of practice” (1932, p. 70). Adult education as an “educational movement” was born of “discontent and unadjustment . . . a movement is social: it starts from somewhere and moves in permeating fashion through the social mass; it originates in some form of dissatisfaction and grows asconsciousness of dissatisfaction become general” (1929, pp. 31-32). Lindeman distinguished between education for adults (for example, the mainstream provision of adult distance education) and adult education-”true adult education is social education” (1947, p. 55). Adult education, he argued, was “a social process . . ., not . . . a simple device whereby knowledge is transferred from one mind to another” (1935, p. 45). Its “primary goal is not vocational. Its aim is not to teach people how to make a living but rather how to live. It offers no ulterior reward. . . . Life is its fundamental subject matter” (1929, p. 37). His emphasis on adult education as “an instrument for social change” (1938, p. 51) envisaged adult education preparing individuals for future change, to ensure the continuation of freedom and democracy in our modern age.
A similar discussion of the role of adult education can be found in other writings in the interwar and immediate postwar periods in other countries. Perhaps the most renowned Canadian example of adult education as social education is provided by the Antigonish Movement, which combined adult education and cooperative economic development. The purpose of which was captured by Moses Coady (1939), the best-known of Antigonish Movement’s leaders, in the title of his book “Masters of their own destiny.”
While it can be argued that the purpose of education for adults has always been broader than “education for democratic participation” and has included “education for reproduction” (which focuses on maintaining the culture, citizenship, and order) and “education for economy” (which focuses on investing in human capital, training, and human resource development), it can also be argued that education for reproduction and economy have displaced education for democracy. Adults do want the skills, knowledge, vocational tools, and credentials that can improve their chances in the job market. Adult distance education has a role to play in providing them. The current emphasis of educational provision for adults is, however, much narrower and less ambitious than that envisioned by Lindeman and other pioneers. It would seem that the real purpose of adult education as social education has been forgotten.
Accepting both the current popularity of distance education for adults and the displacement of social adult education by credentialism (Selman and Dampier, 1991 p. 239/90), could distance education inherit the Lindeman mantle? Do distance educators see themselves as adult educators? Is it possible for distance education to become a similar instigator of community and economic development via social education/learning, or is the emphasis on individualized learning and “instructional industrialism” in distance education inevitably pulling in the opposite direction?
Although the genesis of distance education emphasizes individual learning, there are examples that show how a modified distance delivery mode can be used to promote collectivism and social learning. We will examine two of them. Both examples are of labour education; one drawn from the UK, the other from Canada.
The Transport and General Workers Union (TGWU) distance learning courses stemmed from a review of trade union education by the TGWU. This review called for a broader curriculum of labour education. As a result, the TGWU, in discussion with Surrey University, the major provider of the union’s course in Region 1 (London and the South East), developed a new idea of “distance learning.” It combined tutorials with monthly course meetings over a twelve-month period. This, it was felt, would achieve two purposes: “collectivism” via the course meetings so central to union activity and missing from postal courses; and a sustained course looking at issues beyond the workplace but reflecting back on the workplace and union through student chosen project work. The course should perhaps have been called “half distance learning”; however, the “distance learning” tag stuck, and this and other similar regional courses are operated under the same title. (Other TGWU courses are designed to range from basic representative tool courses to the more advanced distance learning labour studies course described above.)
The TGWU distance learning courses have now been discussed in a number of articles. These accounts illustrate how a more demanding course, using more traditional educational tools common to distance education (guided reading, extracts from texts and essays) but in a different framework, can be run successfully (Fisher, 1984; Fisher & Camfield, 1986; McIlroy, 1988, 1989; Spencer, 1991; Sterling, 1988; Sterling, Nesbit, & Miller, 1986). Because these courses were experimental, they have been subjected to detailed scrutiny. Substantial course reports have been written in each region, and some have included surveys of student attitudes toward the courses (usually completed as part of the course work). For example, the reasons students gave for applying for the Leeds University/Region 9 (Yorkshire and Humberside) two-year courses included the usual “to make me more effective” and “to give me more confidence.” They also included comments that expressed a desire “to study in more detail history and labour law,” and to gain a “wider range of subjects than usual” and more “knowledge and understanding.”
Many applicants also commented upon the limiting nature of courses they had taken previously. One wanted to get “away from the day-to-day problems of the workplace focused on in other courses.” Another stressed how a “broader course would be more useful at work and in the union” than others she had been on. Although the majority saw the course as complementary to previous courses (as, indeed, it was designed to be), these critical comments were nevertheless included in students’ statement of why they wanted to do the course and what they thought the union local and union generally would get out of it.
In their original applications, all students expected the course to benefit the union. Later, in the end of course surveys, when asked whether the course had influenced their union activity, students replied that it had. Comments were varied and suggested that it had “stimulated interest in the Union’s Regional activity”; had “given more confidence”; and had meant that they “looked at events differently . . . away from the tunnel vision of the workplace.”
When asked if the course would promote greater involvement in the union, all those who answered were positive. The responses were interesting in that most related to external as well as internal activity. A desire to be involved in lay tutoring and in regional union activity were included, as was the view that awareness of history and politics would assist their activity within the Labour Party and help in “argument with the public.” A few had definite plans about what they wanted to do in the union.
In many ways Region 8’s (Northern England) responses on the usefulness of the course were even more positive, giving specific examples of changes in branch (i.e., local) organization. For example, changes were made in meeting times and structure; and there was increased community affiliations. Other regions also reported favourably on the impact of the course on union activity. However, it is always difficult to separate cause and effect in this matter. Was the attendance one aspect of a greater activity or did the course lead to greater activity? In any case, tutors are particularly sensitive to anything that might help to persuade the “client” to continue a relationship with the “provider”! Therefore, while it would be wrong to exaggerate the impact of these courses, it is possible to claim that the broader, more educationally demanding, partially distance-delivered curriculum was well received by these more experienced UK trade union students.
These UK labour education “distance learning” courses combined face-to-face meeting with learning materials designed for home study. They complemented other union education programs and were found to achieve the union’s and the educational institutions’ objectives of providing more detailed content while sustaining social learning and social action.
In 1992 Athabasca University offered its Introduction to Labour Studies course at the Alberta Federation of Labour/Canadian Labour Congress (AFL/CLC) Spring School. The course used a mixed delivery mode (face-to-face teaching and distance learning with one week in the classroom and up to six months of home study). This course allowed for interactive and experiential classroom teaching and for some student-centred projects that asked students to relate the materials to their own work, union, family, and community.
Ten students enrolled in the course, eight manual workers and two clerical/administrative persons. There were four women and six men. They were quickly introduced to the course materials and the outline of the week’s work. A feature of the course was the reading time built into the program, which had a tight reading schedule set for the week. Students responded well to the course demands and took pride in keeping up with the reading and written work requirements. (For example, one student was “caught” reading at 7 a.m. while “walking” on the hotel exercise machine).
The students were team taught and covered the first two units and the first written assignment prior to pursuing home study to complete the course and the remaining three assignments. The union students were prepared for the home study element by an experienced tutor who is also a renowned union activist. One of the major problems that faced these very busy union activists was finding the time to continue with the course once they returned to work, home, and union commitments. Only 6 of the 10 completed all the assignments. As a consequence, AU faculty concluded that future courses would benefit from continuing interaction amongst students by way of audio, video, or computer conferencing. A computer conferencing version of this course is now available and has been successfully piloted with the Canadian Union of Public Employees on their SoliNet system (Taylor, 1996).
The mixed-mode delivery course and subsequent offerings in Alberta and at the Canadian Autoworkers Union (CAW) Family Education Centre, Ontario, demonstrated that part of an AU labour studies course could be delivered in a one week block, using adult participatory educational techniques, with the remainder of the course being completed through home study. It also demonstrated that motivated students (including some who may be described as previously educationally disadvantaged) could sustain a heavy reading schedule over the short period. The collectivism and shared experience of the first week of the course underlined the collectivist objectives of unionization, and the materials encouraged students to reflect critically on the context and content of unionism. Both students and the union have reported that the courses have resulted in increased union and community activity.
In both these examples, the special dimension of distance education was complemented by classroom teaching, This illustrates perhaps that social education (including dialogue, emotional support, individual and group experimentation, and praxis, achieved in part via small group activity) requires both student-to-student and student-to-tutor interaction-which may be best achieved face-to-face. It is the case that some interaction can occur electronically within an existing community or maintained electronically once the group is established. Some might claim that newer technologies can completely replicate the classroom, but the evidence to date would question the authenticity of electronically mediated dialogue and group social learning.
It must be acknowledged, however, that on this issue the jury is still out. It can be argued that the type of interaction achieved electronically is not the same as face-to-face. In my experience short comments work best in the computer conference environment, longer expositions do not. Furthermore, the asynchronous nature of some conferences works against focused discussion when individuals pursue topics tangential to key issues. There can, however, also be “positives.” For example, the end of class or coffee break does not bring closure to a valuable discussion. While the above discussion illustrates how distance education can aid social purpose education, the evidence at present supports the view that distance delivery alone is less capable than face-to-face methods of providing for social education.
Michael Newman’s (1993) review of union training in Australia emphasized that the distinctive character of union training was the existence of the “third contract,” that is to say, the relationship between individual union members and the union.2 It could be argued that where a type of “third contract” exists (for example, where students are linked in a community or environmental group), distance education can provide social education. Trying to recreate community in the electronic classroom becomes easier if the students themselves are committed to a real community. They can then use their “individualized” studies as a basis for their community-based social action.
Labour education may be considered untypical, but there are other examples of the use of distance education as “social education” in community and economic development (Koul & Jenkins, 1990) or as a component in an educational mix promoting community development (Spronk, 1994), which build on existing community links. In many instances in Canada it is colleges or local educational consortium that are taking the lead in establishing computer facilities in remote areas and using features like audiographics to link students to each other and to the instructor (as was demonstrated by the Alberta Vocational College, Lesser Slave Lake in a presentation at Athabasca University during February of 1996). Although this paper has discussed the limiting nature of individualized distance education, it should be acknowledged that a central strength of distance education is that it delivers education to the remote communities in which many students live and work. Students, therefore, do not need to leave their home communities where their learning can be directed toward social change (even when the emphasis may be on basic maths, as in the AVC example above).
If one of the purposes of distance education is to provide open, accessible adult education (open to traditionally excluded individuals and groups; providing access to educational resources for those disadvantaged, and social as opposed to individualized education), and if the purpose of education generally includes encouraging critical reflection and practical democracy (such as workers’ self-management), then the “barrier” of distance education itself needs to be overcome. Distance education has been characterized as individualized learning delivered via “instructional industrialism” and possibly as a “contradiction in terms” (Sewart, 1983). If it is to serve democratic social purposes, these barriers (to the extent that they are real) must be reduced. More importantly, distance adult educators must consciously engage with the external social conditions of students and link with other educational and community projects to achieve open, accessible, and democratic education.
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1. This section draws freely from Briton, 1996.
2. The links between the students and tutor is the first contract and those between the union and tutor is the second.
Dr. Bruce Spencer is Professor of Labour Relations and Chair of the Centre for Work and Comunity Studies, Athabasca University. He is author of Remaking the Working Class? and joint author (with John McIlroy) of University Adult Education in Crisis. He has written extensively on adult and workers’ education.