Fry and Love (2011) conducted interviews with Business lecturers, and provide commentary thereon. One of the significant things about the article is the metaphors used to describe VLEs, variously described as ‘security blanket’, ‘crutch’, or an ‘electronic filing cabinet’ (p.54). The metaphors are conservative because they see online learning as supportive, covering holes (another metaphor) in face-to-face provision, but not rivalling it in efficacy, or offering alternative learning and teaching paradigms.

The lecturers interviewed saw the VLE as providing a valuable function for students with other commitments, in that VLEs allowed students access to learning materials outside office hours, but, and consequently, they saw the VLE is a one-way communication medium, despite the potential of VLEs to enable two-way communication.

A further issue with VLEs is that some lecturers were reluctant to make their learning materials available online. There may be valid reasons for this practice, but, from an Activity Theory perspective, the division of labour is also relevant here, as the relative positions of lecturer and student are reaffirmed when a potential tension arises between the two (a potential tension because students can access learning materials without the lecturer being explicitly positioned as gatekeeper). An existing Activity System remains intact, but not necessarily to the benefit of learning and teaching. Fry and Love suggest the lecturers’ practice is a Behaviourist position, and predicated on the idea that learning is acquired, not constructed.

The research might suggest that lecturers are using VLEs in unimaginative ways, using VLEs to support and insure existing pedagogies, rather than prompting a rethink of learning and teaching. Alternatively, the research could be exposing the limitations of VLEs. The VLE as a learning technology functions well as a content repository, but online conversation tends to happen more enthusiastically via social networking technologies (Facebook, Twitter, et al.). This imbalance may be the result of the successful marketing of social networking technologies, or may have emerged through practice, or it may signify a limitation in the VLE as a learning technology, and perhaps suggest a design flaw in VLEs, too. Users go to the HEI’s website, then go through a different log-in procedure for their VLE, then access a discussion board via a menu. Meanwhile, they can go onto Facebook or Twitter and conduct all their social and academic conversations from one platform. Lecturers may not be using VLEs imaginatively, but VLEs may be designed and implemented in ways that discourage innovation.

Reference

Fry, N. and Love, N. (2011) ‘Business lecturers’ perceptions and interactions with the virtual learning environment,’ International Journal of Management Education, vol. 9, no. 4, pp. 51-56.

Jones (2004) sees the Community of Practice in more complex terms, drawing upon Wenger’s (1998) work on constellations of practice, whereby a number of communities interact, but in a looser formation than in the core Community of Practice framework. Hence, an H.E.I. or a workplace may have numerous separate Communities of Practice aligning to a range of sub-cultures. There is an overarching organisational goal, and hence the communities are connected within a constellation, but each individual community within the constellation will have its own identity norm. 

Engestrom’s overall analysis is defined by tensions between individual nodes within an activity system. Wenger’s model is less characterised by tension, as there is a centre towards which the subject moves. The Community of Practice model does give a structure and a vocabulary to an established form of learning, and thus it can be abstracted and applied to new contexts, allowing the reformation of learning within an historically tried and tested framework. However, the Community of Practice model can also appear to bleach organisations of their inevitable tensions, and thus the Community of Practice theory ceases to align with people’s day to day experiences of their places of work and study. Interestingly, a similar critique of Engestrom’s work was made by Avis (2009) who saw Engestrom’s idea of co-configuration (the identifying, highlighting and resolution of tensions) as a ‘management technique’ (p.161), designed to smooth tension rather than expose tension’s full, systematic implications. Therefore, both the Community of Practice theory and Activity theory can be interpreted as conservative frameworks. The conservative or radical nature of theories is thus not an intrinsic feature of a theory, but an approach that emerges through practice. Theories are pliable, and can comprise tools within larger activity systems.

References

Avis, J. (2009) ‘Transformation or transformism: Engestrom’s version of activity theory?’ Educational Review, vol. 61, no. 2, pp. 151-165.

Engestrom, Y. (2007?) ‘From communities of practice to mycorrhizae’ http://www.open.ac.uk/cetl-workspace/cetlcontent/documents/476902341f33c.pdf (accessed 5 December 2011)

Jones, C. (2004) ‘Networks and learning: communities, practices and the metaphor of networks – a response,’ ALT-J, Researching Learning Technology, vol. 12, no. 2, pp. 195-198.

Wenger, Etienne (1998, repr. 2005), Communities of Practice,Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.

The article argues that one of the factors influencing students’ use of technologies is the lecturer’s teaching approach (p.429). Hence, if the teacher uses traditional classroom pedagogies, the technology is unlikely to be used in innovative ways.

The article further argues that research in the field has tended to exclude variables such as the users themselves, and their socio-economic backgrounds (p.431). Previously, Hargittai (2002) argued that technical access per se was not the way to address any perceived digital divide, as people also required effective access, meaning the skills to make the most of online resources. Hence, there may be grounds for training and development for students in how to use technologies to support learning.

Eight students were interviewed for the research, and stated they used their institution’s Virtual Learning Environment (VLE) as a repository from which to access learning materials. However, this was not perceived negatively by the students; they did not lament the fact that the VLE did not exploit the creative possibilities of online learning. Instead, they were satisfied with the VLE as a repository. Similar findings emerged from a larger study of 427 students undertaken by Conole et al., (2008).

The specific technologies used by the interviewees included Google, Google Scholar, Wikipedia, and course websites. However, two of the participants had not heard of Google Scholar, two had not heard of Wikipedia, and two did not know what a podcast was (not the same two interviewees each time). Furthermore, five did not know what a blog was, and had never written or read a blog entry (p. 436).

The main technology used for recreation by the interviewees was YouTube, but the students’ use of it was passive, as none of them had uploaded content.

The study as a whole may argue for further training and development for academics in technology-enhanced learning, as the pedagogy selected by the lecturer appeared to be a factor influencing the students’ uses of technology to support learning. The article further suggests that students use technologies passively rather than interactively. The creative and disruptive potential of technologies to support learning and teaching is not fully happening yet, and researchers may be disconnected from the practice of users.

References

Conole, G., de Laat, M., Dillon, T. and Darby, J. (2008) ‘“Disruptive technologies”, “pedagogical innovation”: What’s new? Findings from an in-depth study of students’ use and perception of technology,’ Computers and Education, vol. 50, pp. 511-524.

Hargittai, E. (2002) ‘Second-level digital divide,’ First Monday, vol. 7, no. 4, http://firstmonday.org/htbin/cgiwrap/bin/ojs/index.php/fm/article/view/942/864 (accessed 17 November 2011).

Margaryan, A., Littlejohn, A. and Vojt, G. (2011) ‘Are digital natives a myth or reality? University students’ use of digital technologies,’ Computers and Education, vol. 56, pp. 429-440.

Engestrom also critiques an influential theory of learning and development, Vygotsky’s zone of proximal development:  ‘It is depicted as the distance between the actual developmental level and the level of potential development reachable under adult guidance or in collaboration with more capable peers. “Level” and “more capable” are vertical notions.’

Engestrom views learning and development as a more turbulent process, a position that counters the idea of apprenticeship as the gradual, incremental acquisition of mastery in a particular field. For Engestrom, learning and development entails destruction of the old. Therefore, relationships in learning and development entail tension, as existing knowledge and understanding is tested and then accepted, adapted or rejected, depending on its relevance and use value in the circumstances prevailing at the time.

If development is, as Engestrom argues, ‘significant and relatively long-term qualitative change in the way we relate to the world,’ then it is dependent on its context for meaning and relevance, and hence development is only useful if it remains relevant. As contexts do not remain static, so knowledge does not remain static.

Arguing from an Activity Theory perspective, Engestrom stresses the importance of learning and development occurring via tools (mediating artefacts), through which people render their environments sensible, in the sense that they construct a purpose for each tool, which is utilised to achieve an outcome in goal-directed activity. Through the use of tools, people create new meanings and new possibilities: ‘The mediating artifact not only amplifies, it opens up new possibilities that lead to surprises.’

Therefore, for Engestrom, subjects use tools in ways that do not necessarily conflate with the tool’s design. Instead, they use the tools at their disposal innovatively, to achieve outcomes. The use of tools is necessarily creative because contexts do not remain static, and hence the purpose for which a tools was designed may no longer be applicable. Learning and development, therefore, are ongoing, quotidian and creative: ‘Development emerges as everyday creation or construction of the new in zones of uncertainty riddled with contradictions and surprises and heavily dependent on re-mediation by cultural artifacts.’

Reference

Engestrom, Y. (1996) ‘Development as breaking away and opening up: a challenge to Vygotsky and Piaget,’ http://lchc.ucsd.edu/mca/Paper/Engestrom/Engestrom.html (accessed 31 October 2011)

Diamondstone argues that the resisting subject is revisiting and rejecting a construction of meaning made by the powerful. Furthermore, Diamondstone sees potential in resistance, in the sense that the resisting learner often has to be resourceful in order to resist. Moreover, Diamondstone sees three, distinct spaces in learning and teaching: the first is the official discourse controlled by the teacher, the second is characterised by open resistance, and the third space, which also resists, but by using less overt, more subtle strategies (p. 2).

Resistance can be seen as deviant, even criminal behaviour, but Diamondstone’s argument is that resistance highlights flaws in the existing activity system (p. 9). Therefore, rather than suppressing resistance, it should be opened up to see what systemic flaws are exposed. That said, the implications of Diamondstone’s analysis would prompt a fundamental reconfiguring of the classroom, with the traditional power relations of teaching being unseated. Top-down authority, focused in the teacher, would no longer be valid if classroom practice was designed to expose structural flaws within the education system, and the wider economic and social system underpinning the classroom.

A key point in Diamondstone’s analysis is that meaning is not constructed in a vacuum. Instead, meaning is constructed within a tradition, and the privilege of constructing meaning is, within dominant culture, in the hands of the powerful. Hence, ‘We are consumers of meanings made by others as we go about the business of making meaning ourselves’ (p. 9) and thus there is an extent to which activity is dialectical, as it presupposes and relies upon tension in order for progress to be made, and in order for sense to be made out of experience. In practice, this means accepting some existing meanings, but also rejecting others, and constructing new meanings when the existing ones turn out to be no longer fit for purpose. I don’t think Diamondstone identifies fully who or what the powerful is/are, but she does expose revolutionary possibilities in Activity Theory.

Reference

Diamondstone, J. (2002) ‘Keeping Resistance in View in an Activity Theory Analysis,’ Mind, Culture and Activity, vol. 9, no. 1, pp. 2-21.

Leadbeater’s example of the success of the London Fire Brigade is telling, because their success did not depend on a full-frontal solution (bigger, faster, more efficient fire engines) but on a targeted campaign to increase the use of smoke alarms (pp. 19-20). This tallies with Christensen’s analysis of the success of disruptive innovations:  ‘A major lesson from our studies of innovation is that disruptive innovation does not take root through a direct attack on the existing system. Instead, it must go around and underneath the system’ (2011, p. 243). As Christensen writes, elsewhere, of disruptive technologies: ‘Products based on disruptive technologies are typically cheaper, simpler, smaller, and, frequently, more convenient to use’ (Christensen 1997, p. xv).

Leadbeater also cites Charles Armstrong’s work on emergent democracy, whereby Armstrong argues that democracy is a bottom-up phenomenon, ‘a means to scale local traditions of self-government to the much larger societies, cities and nations created by industrialisation and urbanization. That meant self-government had to become more formal and structured, following clear  rules and procedures but at the cost of becoming more rigid  and less agile’ (2011, p. 22). Hence, democracy is disruptive initially, but as democracy becomes more structured and formalised its disruptive potential weakens, perhaps necessitating further disruption to revivify democracy itself.  

Christenson (2003) argues it is not the case that a new provider has mastery over a technology, whereas established providers don’t. Instead, the established provider finds that the innovation does not fit within its strategy; it is undesirable, not unattainable. Meanwhile, the disruptive provider gains a foothold and builds support. Leadbeater argues that established providers are unable to perceive the potential of disruption: ‘it is also almost inevitable that powerful incumbents heavily invested in established ways of doing things fail to recognise new needs and the potential of disruptive new technologies…. However, when technologies, consumer expectations and organizational possibilities all shift at the same time – as they are now – it often becomes difficult for established companies to continue to control their industries. New entrants emerge to pioneer new business models, which meet emerging customer needs in more effective ways. Often these new approaches come from upstarts and outsiders carrying little baggage’ (2011, p. 23). 

Leadbeater’s core argument is that innovations evolve into systems and thus lose their innovative qualities, thereby creating the innovation vacuum for a new provider. To align this argument with Christensen’s theories of disruption, the disruptive innovation displaces the sustaining innovation, but in so doing becomes the sustaining innovation over time. Hence, Sony’s transistor radio of the mid-19050s displaced the valve radio, but now people access radio via networked devices; the mid-1950s disruptive technology became the norm, whereafter it became a sustaining technology, improving its performance along established lines. Thus, in turn, it was displaced by a new disruption, which has now shifted the terms of broadcasting resulting in innovations like BBC i-Player.

Linking Leadbeater’s report, and Christensen’s work, for the enhancement of learning and teaching in H.E., it is apparent from Cann and Badge (2011) that students, too, have trusted brands, such as YouTube and Google. Therefore, H.E.I.s would be better off working with the trusted brands as platforms for their own learning material, rather than relying solely on institutional Virtual Learning Environments. Learning is less of an institutionally contained activity than it was a generation ago, and institutions are still coming to terms with the heavily diluted boundaries of learning and teaching in the twenty first century.

References

Cann, A.J. and Badge, J.L. (2011) ‘Reflective Social Portfolios for Feedback and Peer Mentoring,’ Schoolof Biological Sciences, University of Leicester, UK, http://hdl.handle.net/2381/9704 (accessed 6 October 2011).

Christensen, C. M. (1997) The innovator’s dilemma: when new technologies cause great firms to fail, Boston, Mass., Harvard Business School Press.

Christensen, C. M. and Raynor, M. E. (2003) The Innovator’s Solution: Creating and Sustaining Successful Growth, Cambridge MA, Harvard University Press.

Christensen, C. M., Horn, M. B., and Johnson, C. W. (2011) Disrupting Class: How Disruptive Innovation Will Change the Way the World Learns, New York, McGraw Hill.

Leadbeater, C. (2011) ‘The Civic Long Tail,’ London, Demos.

One of the interesting features of the research is that it shows students gravitating towards their trusted brands, such as Google and YouTube (p. 7). Hence, seeking to attract students to Virtual Learning Environments (VLEs) with content alone may be difficult, as students already have engrained perceptions of specific providers. It may be more beneficial to H.E.I.s to make their content available through popular channels (witness the amount of universities with their own YouTube channels).   

The research looks at an e-portfolio that students had to compile for an assessment. The exercise was not a success, given that less than 1% of the portfolios were updated after the module ended, and given the rebarbative nature of some of the student feedback (p.8).  An alternative approach at the university, more reminiscent of Facebook in its appearance, appeared to be more successful, especially as contributions did not tail off during the module, and that 15-20% of the students carried on using it after the assessment (p.21).

The researchers argue, ‘we anticipate that there will be a student-led trickle down effect arising from the introduction of these tools into teaching, eventually changing academic practices, much as the introduction of the institutional VLE changed teaching practices a few years ago’ (p. 21). However, it is debatable whether the VLE has changed teaching practices; research by Blin and Munro (2008) at one university showed that the introduction of a VLE led to existing teaching materials (Word documents and Powerpoint presentations) being relocated online, but did not lead to changes in learning and teaching practices in terms of rethinking teaching to suit the new medium.

The researchers conclude that students prefer easy to use technologies, ‘with a shallow initial learning curve’ (p. 22). The latter point ties-in with Christensen’s theory of Disruption (1997, 2003, 2011), with ease of use being a significant factor in the uptake of a technology (incidentally, a lot of the hype about Second Life, a technology with a steeper learning curve, appears to have receded). Institutional VLEs, therefore, benefit from ease of use in order to attract and maintain student interest. Links to popular technologies, such as relevant YouTube videos, may be one means of aligning VLEs with student preferences. The metaphor the researchers use for big social networks, the Swiss Army Knife (p.8) may be applied usefully to VLEs. Hence, the VLE becomes a hub, providing access to learning materials plus a range of enhancements from popular channels, available through a VLE link.   

References

Blin, F. and Munro, M. (2008) ‘Why hasn’t technology disrupted academics’ teaching practices? Understanding resistance to change through the lens of activity theory’, Computers and Education, vol. 50, pp. 475-490.

Cann, A.J. and Badge, J.L. (2011) ‘Reflective Social Portfolios for Feedback and Peer Mentoring,’ Schoolof Biological Sciences, University of Leicester, UK, http://hdl.handle.net/2381/9704 (accessed 22 September 2011).

Christensen, C. M. (1997) The innovator’s dilemma: when new technologies cause great firms to fail, Boston, Mass., Harvard Business School Press.

Christensen, C. M. and Raynor, M. E. (2003) The Innovator’s Solution: Creating and Sustaining Successful Growth,CambridgeMA, Harvard University Press.

Christensen, C. M., Horn, M. B., and Johnson, C. W. (2011) Disrupting Class: How Disruptive Innovation Will Change the Way the World Learns,New York, McGraw Hill.

For Activity Theory, too, the meaning of a tool, its purpose, arises from usage; the subject employs the tool to serve a specific purpose, with the design of a tool having only limited power to determine its epistemic use (Engestrom 2007). Samgorinsky echoes this view when he writes: ‘… the same implement may serve as a different tool for different users, no tool at all for other users, or a different tool for the same user in different situations, depending on how (or if at all) it is conceptualized’ (p. 139). 

Smagorinsky’s article is interested in what influences the construction of meaning, and how the potential uses of tools are conceptualised. The construction of usage and hence meaning is not an unfettered process and, instead, is shaped by pre-existing power structures in a given society. Hence, ‘dominant cultures have the power to define their version of reality as reality, thus establishing their values as authoritative and sovereign’ (p. 136). In practice, in learning and teaching situations, ‘teachers emphasise specific reading conventions and discourage others’ (p.138). Consequently, socio-economic groups socialised within the dominant culture have an educational advantage, as their values and practices have already been constructed, and reaffirmed by dominant culture. Hence, and unsurprisingly, ‘school becomes a much more hospitable and rewarding experience for some groups than for others’ (p. 138).

For Smagorinsky, therefore, meanings constructed are, in turn, shaped by history, economics and politics, all mediated through the culture of texts and other tools. Meanings are shaped by history in the sense that existing possibilities for the use of a tool will have been constructed by previous societies and individuals, thereby comprising a range of established uses. Meanings are shaped by economics and politics in the sense that some social groups will share the dominant culture because it affords them certain privileges and protections, whereas other groups will be disadvantaged by the dominant culture and are thus less likely to share its norms. Smagorinsky writes of readers: ‘Though alone, they engage in culturally mediated processes, in dialogue with the great history of texts… Though alone, they act in relationship with other readers and readings, participating in communities of practice where social positioning and powerful readings have consequences for others… meaning emerges for the worlds they inhabit and the lives they lead within their worlds’ (p.163). Meaning is constructed within, or against, a framework established by a dominant culture which articulates history in order to legitimise its own dominance.

Smagorinsky reminds us that the use of tools does not occur in a creative vacuum; individuals do not approach a tool as an unlimited index of possibilities. Furthermore, Smagorignsky’s understanding of knowledge overlaps with Wenger’s when the latter writes, ‘Our knowing – even of the most unexceptional kind – is always too big, too rich, too ancient, and too connected for us to be the source of it individually’ (1998, p. 141). Hence, when users use tools in innovative, unexpected ways it may be worthwhile trying to understand users’ prior experiences and their position in relation to the dominant culture. It would further be interesting to explore any correlations between dissent (whether explicitly voiced or articulated through practice) and innovation.

References

Engeström, Y. (2007) ‘Enriching the Theory of Expansive Learning: Lessons From Journeys Toward Coconfiguration’, Mind, Culture and Activity, vol. 14, nos. 1-2, pp. 23-39.

Smagorinsky, P. (2001) ‘If meaning is constructed, what is it made from?’: Toward a cultural theory of reading author(s)’, Review of Educational Research, vol. 71, no. 1, pp. 133-169.

Wenger, Etienne (1998, repr. 2005), Communities of Practice,Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.

The internet also has the potential to democratise learning when learners have greater technological competence than their lecturers; Scanlon and Issoff’s (2005) research identified an instance in which students helped a lecturer operate a technology, the lecturer welcomed the assistance, and the learning experience was bettered for everyone (what would have happened if the lecturer had asserted his/her authority by resisting the help?). Thus far we have a view of the internet that works within an activity system triangle, as a new tool effects the division of labour.

However, the internet may not be causal. It may, instead, expose existing practices and hierarchies from a new perspective; the idea of the familiar object seen from an unfamiliar angle. For example, and as argued by Castells (2002), the geography of the internet reflects wider power structures: ‘… the use of the internet is highly differentiated in territorial terms, following the uneven distribution of technological infrastructure, wealth, and education in the planet’ (p. 211) and hence, ‘the centrality of the Internet in many areas of social, economic and political activity is tantamount to marginality for those without, or with only limited, access to the Internet, as well as of those unable to use it effectively’ (p. 247). From this standpoint, the internet consolidates and amplifies existing inequalities, and doesn’t cause change.

Tikhomirov (1999) cites data from Zinovieva showing ‘the dependence of intellectual activity’s organization on the level of the subject’s confidence. It appeared that confident subjects had a higher goal orientation, which leads to the “cutting off”… of the hypotheses of all information that does not lead to the goal, as well as higher trust in existing conclusions and higher integration between generalizations’ (p. 350). Hence, some subjects (in the sense of individuals) pursue goals more rigorously than others, and are less likely to be distracted by changes within and between other nodes in the activity system. However, this is about subjects, not about tools and thus Activity Theory might now suggest that, in the case of the internet, the tool is not effecting large-scale changes because the subject and their disposition towards the goal is the primary determinant. However, privileging the subject node makes the activity system three-dimensional, in the sense that it has peaks of influence.

Tikhomirov goes on to make large claims for the internet:  ‘New forms of creative work, education, and play appear, forms that are simply impossible without computers. At the same time, new types of stereotyped, routine activity appear… The computer is not only a universal data-processing device, it is also a universal means of influencing human activity and, consequently, the human psyche… The specific character of such influence is defined, first of all, not by a computer, but by the organizational and social conditions of its use and by the characteristics of the activity’ (p. 353). Having said the internet does effect change, Tikhomoirov also argues that the potential of the internet to effect change is shaped by other nodes in the activity system. Hence there has to be a broader constellation, without which the potential of the internet to cause change is not realised. However, if the right conditions are created than, Tikhomirov argues, change ensues in patterns of human activity and thus, from a materialist perspective, in the human psyche.

It is difficult to argue convincingly that the internet is causing changes to the human psyche, because of immanence; it is not possible to stand outside evolving processes in which individuals are implicated. It is possible to argue that the internet is changing the way we learn, as it blurs the lines between learning, working and socialising (Conole et al., 2008). It is less easy to argue that the internet democtaises learning, because of both a first level digital divide (with sections of the population not having net access), and a second level digital divide (Hirgattai 2002), whereby people lack effective access by not having the skills required to make effective use of the internet.

Tikhomirov, from a materialist perspective, argues that a change in practice leads to changes in perception, and in consciousness. This imbues the activity system with particular significance, as changing patterns of behaviour, which can result from just one change in one node, lead to different patterns of thinking in individuals and collectives. Therefore, if the internet is changing what we do, it may also change what we think.

References

Castells, M. (2002) The Internet Galaxy,Oxford,OxfordUniversity Press.

Conole, G., Laat, Maarten de, Dillon, T. and Darby, J. (2008) ‘“Disruptive technolgies”, “pedagogical innovation”: What’s new? Findings from an in-depth study of students’ use and perception of technology’ Computers and Education, vol. 50, pp. 511-524.

Hargittai, E. (2002) ‘Second Level Digital Divide: Differences in People’s Onlnie Skills’ First Monday,  http://www.eszter.com/research/pubs/hargittai-secondleveldd.pdf (accessed 12 August 2011).

Scanlon, E. and Issoff, K. (2005) ‘Activity Theory and Higher Education: evaluating learning technologies’ Journal of Computer Assisted Learning, vol. 21, pp. 430-439.

Tikhomirov, O. K. (1999) ‘The theory of activity changed by information technology’ in Y. Engestrom, R. Miettinen and R.-L. Punamaki (eds.) Perspectives on Activity Theory,Cambridge,CambridgeUniversity Press, pp. 325-346.

Engestrom touches on the Marxist roots of activity theory, by affirming it ‘is based on a dialectical theory of knowledge and thinking’ (p. 378). The tensions within an existing system are the breeding ground for new forms of knowledge.

Engestrom is particularly interested in the object node in an activity system, and in the determining effects of the object node. Activity theory argues that purposeful human activities are mediated through tools (material or symbolic), but Engestrom also argues, ‘Activities are social practices oriented at objects’ (p. 380). Hence, ‘the object gains motivating force that gives shape and direction to activity. The object determines the horizon of possible actions’ (p381). The object of the activity system, therefore, shapes the parameters of the activity, as the activity is configured to attain the object (though an object and an eventual outcome need not be one and the same).

Engestrom’s analysis becomes more complex when he distinguishes objects from goals: ‘Objects are not to be confused with goals. Goals are attached to specific actions. Actions have clear points of beginning and termination and relatively short half-lives. Activity systems evolve through long historical cycles in which clear beginnings and ends are difficult to determine’ (p. 381). The essential difference appears to be one of scale; specific actions can be directed towards goals, but activity systems are more longitudinal, in the sense that, being dialectical, they exacerbate and expose tensions over time.

Building on his understanding of the importance of objects in activity systems, and on the distinction between objects and the more localised, immediate and thus more easily identifiable goals, Engestrom writes, ‘being a horizon, the object is never fully reached or conquered’ (p. 381). It appears to me that activity systems are more likely to get reconfigured under the pressure of their own internal contradictions than they are to get fully and unproblematically realised, other than in the short term context of a specific action leading to a goal. Tension between nodes appears to be the natural state of activity systems over time. 

Given the focus on change over time, and the distinction between objects and goals, Engestrom draws a further distinction, between innovative learning and an expansive cycle. The former can be localised, but the latter needs a more substantial temporal frame in which to play through: ‘Miniature cycles of innovative learning should be regarded as potentially expansive. A large-scale, expansive cycle of organizational transformation always consists of small cycles of innovative learning. However, the appearance of small-scale cycles of innovative learning does not in itself guarantee that an expansive cycle is going on’ (p. 385). Hence, the localised event of innovative learning can signify the emergence of expansive learning, but need not necessarily do so. However, one form of innovative learning prompting another and another comprises the ground work and the catalyst for expansive learning.

Engestrom also constructs a similar distinction between a solution innovation and a trajectory innovation: ‘A solution innovation typically applies only to the specific case for which it was invented, whereas a trajectory innovation is aimed at becoming a more or less permanent, repeatedly used procedure. Of course, it is possible that a solution innovation is subsequently repeated consciously in similar new situations, thus becoming a trajectory innovation. Conversely, a trajectory innovation may fail to generalize beyond the first application, thus effectively becoming a one-time solution innovation’ (p. 387).  Again, the essence of the distinction is between a localised event, and a bigger, structural change. However, the solution innovation can comprise a template that can be applied to solve other problems, hence establishing itself as a trajectory innovation, without having been conceived as one in the first place.

Engetsrom’s article as a whole brings additional complexity to activity theory, activity systems and expansive learning. The article argues that changes in activity systems and the emergence of expansive learning are only observable over time (typically, 2 to 3 years in research studies). However, individual innovations can develop into expansive transformations. Individual innovations, therefore, are unlikely to arise on the basis of an analysis of an activity system, and are more likely to be constructed in the face of an immediate, not recognisably structural, problem. However, localised solutions can accumulate, thus creating the conditions in which existing, structural problems are more manifest, leading to a collective desire to overhaul the existing structure, and replace it with an activity system better suited to its current context.

Reference

Engestrom, Y. (1999) ‘Innovative learning in work teams: Analyzing cycles of knowledge creation in practice,’ in Y. Engestrom, R. Miettinen and R.-L. Punamaki (eds.) Perspectives on Activity Theory,Cambridge,CambridgeUniversity Press, pp. 377-404.