Learning Cultures in Online Education

Learning Cultures in Online
Education
Robin Goodfellow and Marie-Noëlle Lamy

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C Robin Goodfellow, Marie-Noëlle Lamy and Contributors 2009
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British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978-18470-6062-4 (hardcover)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Learning cultures in online education / [edited by] Marie-Noëlle Lamy and
Robin Goodfellow.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references.
ISBN 978-1-84706-062-4 (hardcover)
1. Multicultural education. 2. Distance education–Social aspects.
I. Goodfellow, Robin, 1947– II. Lamy, Marie-Noëlle, 1949– III. Title.
LC1099.L38 2009
370.117–dc22
2008024038
Typeset by AptaraR
Inc., New Delhi, India
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Biddles Ltd, King’s Lynn, Norfolk
Contents
List of Contributors vii

Foreword x
Professor Mark Warschauer, University of California, Irvine, USA
Introduction: A Frame for the Discussion of

Learning Cultures 1
1 When the Solution Becomes the Problem: Cultures and
Individuals As Obstacles to Online Learning 15
Charles Ess
2 Identity, Gender and Language in Synchronous
Cybercultures: A Cross-Cultural Study 30
Charlotte N. Gunawardena, Ahmed Idrissi Alami, Gayathri Jayatilleke
and Fadwa Bouachrine
3 Entering the World of Online Foreign Language Education:
Challenging and Developing Teacher Identities 52
Robert O’Dowd
4 From Face-to-Face to Distance Learning: The Online
Learner’s Emerging Identity 71
Christine Develotte
5 Being and Learning in the Online Classroom: Linguistic
Practices and Ritual Text Acts 93
Leah P. Macfadyen
6 Technology As a ‘Cultural Player’ in Online Learning
Environments 113
Anne Hewling
vi Contents
7 Trouble and Autoethnography in Assessment Genre: A Case

for Postnational Design in Online Internationalized
Pedagogy 131
Catherine Doherty
8 New Learning Cultures: Identities, Media and Networks 151
Jay Lemke and Caspar van Helden
Conclusion: New Directions for Research in Online Learning
Cultures 170
References 184
Internet References 209
Author Index 210
Subject Index 215
Contributors
AHMED IDRISSI ALAMI received his PhD from Indiana University, USA.
He has published articles on the issues of cross-cultural perception and
representation as well as constructions of identity across national and cul-
tural frontiers. He is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Foreign
Languages & Literatures and the Director of the Arabic Program at Purdue
University, USA.
FADWA BOUACHRINE is a lecturer in the Center for Academic Devel-
opment at Al Akhawayn University, in Ifrane, Morocco. Building on her
engineering background, she is passionate about research areas such as cul-
ture, behaviour, and technology; the digital divide; internet freedom and
technology use; and socio-economic trends and use of technology.
CHRISTINE DEVELOTTE is Professor of Information Science at the Insti-
tut National de Recherche Pédagogique in Lyon and a member of the ICAR
research laboratory. For the last 10 years her main research interests have
been linked to computer-mediated communication (CMC). Her research
includes two aspects: the semio-linguistic aspect of online communication
and the social aspect (focusing on the analysis of human behaviour).
CATHERINE DOHERTY lectures in the sociology of education and soci-
olinguistics in the Faculty of Education, Queensland University of Tech-
nology. She came to teacher education with experience in adult literacy
and community education, migrant English programs and curriculum and
policy roles. Her research focuses on how cultural identity interacts with
pedagogy, curriculum design and globalization processes.
CHARLES ESS is Professor of Philosophy and Religion and Distinguished
Professor of Interdisciplinary Studies, Drury University (Springfield, MO,
USA). He has received awards for teaching excellence and scholarship,
and publishes in Computer-Mediated Communication (CMC) and cross-
cultural approaches to Information and Computing Ethics. With Fay Sud-
weeks, Dr. Ess co-founded and co-chairs the biennial conferences ‘Cultural
Attitudes towards Technology and Communication’ (CATAC).
viii Contributors
ROBIN GOODFELLOW is a senior lecturer in Teaching with New Tech-

nology at the UK Open University. He currently directs an online Masters
course in e-learning. His research interests are in the literacies and social
and cultural practices of online learning. He is co-author of Challenging
E-Learning in the University: A Literacies Perspective, published by McGraw
Hill/Open University Press.
CHARLOTTE NIRMALANI GUNAWARDENA is Professor of Distance Edu-
cation and Instructional Technology in the Organizational Learning and
Instructional Technology Program, University of New Mexico, USA, where
she coordinates the online Master’s and certificate in e-learning. For the past
20 years she has published on distance education and currently researches
the social construction of knowledge and the sociocultural context of online
learning communities.
ANNE HEWLING is the e-learning specialist at the UK Open University
Library and Learning Resources Centre. She endeavours to bridge the cul-
tural spaces presently occupied by new technologies, information profes-
sionals, learning developers and faculty through staff training events and
case-by-case advice. She also facilitates culture change activities with col-
leagues in the Digilab – a hands-on university ‘play space’ for faculty and staff
wanting to integrate new technologies into teaching and learning practice.
In her spare time she teaches online courses in e-learning and international
development.
BUDDHINI GAYATHRI JAYATILLEKE is a Senior Lecturer in the Educa-
tional Technology Division at the Open University of Sri Lanka. She holds
a BSc from the University of Colombo, Sri Lanka, an MA from the Uni-
versity of London and a PhD. from the Open University, UK. Her research
interests are in media and student learning, online learning, instructional
design and science communication.
MARIE-NOËLLE LAMY is Professor of Distance Language Learning at the
UK Open University. She has 15 years of experience in designing language
courses for online study, involving extensive use of e-tutorials, text-based
as well as voice-based. Her research interests are in technology-mediated
learning conversations, particularly in multimodal settings. She has recently
co-authored Online Communication in Language Learning and Teaching , pub-
lished by Palgrave MacMillan.
JAY LEMKE is Professor of Educational Studies at the University of Michigan
in the PhD programs for Learning Technologies and Literacy Language &
Culture. He is the author of Textual Politics: Discourse and Social Theory and
Talking Science: Language, Learning, and Values. Currently co-editor of Critical
Contributors ix
Discourse Studies, he was formerly co-editor of Linguistics and Education (for

10 years).
LEAH P. MACFADYEN is a research associate in Skylight – the Science
Centre for Learning and Teaching – in the Faculty of Science at The Uni-
versity of British Columbia in Vancouver, Canada. Formerly a researcher in
UBC’s Distance Education and Technology unit, she developed the interdis-
ciplinary online undergraduate course ‘Perspectives on Global Citizenship’
in 2005, and now co-teaches it through UBC’s Faculty of Arts. Her research
interests include the uses of the internet and communication technologies
in science education and international education initiatives.
ROBERT O’DOWD is a teacher of EFL and Foreign Language Methodology
at the University of León in Spain. He has a PhD from the University of
Duisburg-Essen in Germany on the use of network-based language teaching.
Some of his recent publications include Telecollaboration and the Development of
Intercultural Communicative Competence (Langenscheidt, 2006) and the edited
volume Online Intercultural Exchange: An Introduction for Foreign Language
Teachers (Multilingual Matters, 2007). His current research interests include
the role of online technologies in foreign language teacher education.
CASPAR VAN HELDEN is a PhD candidate at the University of Michigan’s
School of Education. His research is in (multimodal) discourse studies, and
he focuses on the influence of popular culture on learning biographies,
identities and identification. Currently working with video ethnography and
experimental methodologies, he was formerly the producer of European
media for young people.
Foreword
The concept of culture has a long and inglorious history in educational pol-
icy and practice. Racist interpretations of culture have led to entire nations
being written off as uneducable. In some ethnically diverse yet highly strat-
ified countries, students from marginalized groups have long been taught
in ways that fail to recognize and nourish ways of making meaning valued
in their communities. And in the United States and elsewhere, language
minority students found themselves ridiculed, expelled or beaten merely
for speaking their native language in school, during parts of the nineteenth
and twentieth centuries.
In recent decades, we think ourselves more enlightened, and indeed
we are. Schools of Education offer courses in multicultural education,
where teachers learn to be respectful of diverse groups. Insensitive portray-
als of ethnic minorities are barred from the classroom and school library.
Posters of ethnically diverse leaders and scholars adorn school walls. Yet, our
approaches to culture too often veer into the simplistic, as in a university
class I observed where the teacher informed the students that culture con-
sisted of ‘ “(1) climate, (2) food/clothing, (3) music/dance/entertainment,
(4) school/education, [and] (5) family values,” and instructed students to
write cultural comparison essays that contrasted these topics in two coun-
tries’ (Warschauer 1998: 74).
If ever a more complex and nuanced understanding of culture were
needed, that time is now. The postindustrial era has brought a global
cross-mingling of people as never before in human history. Migrants are
pouring into not only traditional immigrant countries such as the United
States and Australia, but also into heretofore ethnically defined nations
such as Germany. Large countries such as China, India and Brazil also face
unprecedented internal migration, as people stream into mega-cities look-
ing for work. Not only labour, but also capital, production, management,
markets technology and information are organized across national bound-
aries. These demographic, social and economic trends are problematizing
the traditional view of culture as a reified set of unitary beliefs and practices
for a given community.
Foreword xi
Of course the most revolutionary new medium for cross-cultural contact

and communication is the internet. The number of internet users worldwide
has increased from about 16 million in 1995 to more than 1.3 billion in 2008
(Miniwatts Marketing Research, 2008). The fastest growth rates in internet
use are occurring in the Middle East, Africa, Latin America and Asia. Billions
more people have mobile phones, which are increasingly able to access the
internet as well. Online communication is affecting virtually every walk
of modern life, from politics to entertainment to dating to education. In
the latter realm, we must consider not only the rapidly growing number
of online courses around the world, but also the even larger number of
courses that combine traditional in-person meetings with some forms of
online interaction.
It is the intersection of these two phenomena – the changing notion of
culture in today’s world, and the vastly expanding amount of online inter-
action in education – that this book addresses. This represents a complex
terrain, precisely because understandings of culture vary so dramatically.
The editors have rightly settled on the term ‘learning cultures’, which nar-
rows the field substantially. Specifically, they focus on four interrelated areas
of cultural contact and change: transnational and cross-border education,
the take-up of computer-mediated interaction by previously marginalized
populations, the growth of new forms of knowledge production, and the
spread of social networking phenomena and their use in education.
Each of these four topics is itself worthy of a book. Bakhtin (1986) pointed
out the value of transnational exchange for education decades ago, noting
that
It is only in the eyes of another culture that foreign culture reveals itself
fully and profoundly [. . .] A meaning only reveals its depths once it
has encountered and come into contact with another, foreign meaning:
they engage in a kind of dialogue which surmounts the closedness and
one-sidedness of these particular meanings, these cultures. We raise new
questions for a foreign culture, ones that it did not raise for itself; we seek
answers to our own questions in it; and the foreign culture responds to
us by revealing to us its new aspects and new semantic depths. (1986: 7)
Several chapters in this book address how this phenomenon plays out in
online learning, which, in contrast to pre-internet forms of long-distance
educational exchange, potentially brings together students from many
countries in fast-paced interaction, thus accelerating the dialogic learning
process.
Similarly, the inclusion of marginalized populations is a major purported
goal of online education efforts, but one that is not so easily reached, due
xii Foreword
in part to the somewhat limited affordances of online communication com-

pared to symbolically richer forms of face-to-face interaction (Warschauer
2003). Again, the potential of new forms of online communication to both
include and exclude students on the margins is critically assessed through-
out this book.
New forms of knowledge production (Gibbons et al. 1994) and social
networking (Warschauer & Grimes 2007) flow from both the organization
of the information society and the tools available to it. Both address the ways
that people interact and learn through networked communication, and how
this overlaps with issues of identity and media. These topics, too, are well
covered throughout the book, with the relationship to gender, language
and genre thrown in for good measure.
That editors and authors have successfully addressed such a wide range of
topics in a single compact book is a testament to the selection of chapters,
the quality of authors’ contributions, and the editors’ thoughtful framing of
the issues in the Introduction and the Conclusion. As a result, the empirical
breadth of the book, based on case studies in diverse international contexts,
is matched by a rich theoretical perspective capturing the essence of these
studies. The many aspects of learning cultures presented in the book are
thus brought together in a way that enhances our multifaceted understand-
ing of how new and engrained ways of believing, valuing, communicating
and producing knowledge co-occur in online education.
Mark Warschauer
University of California Irvine, USA
Introduction: A Frame for the Discussion of
Learning Cultures

The Open University, UK
It would be customary to begin discussion of a topic like ‘learning cultures

in online education’, with a definition of terms. However, in the case of
a concept like ‘culture’ we feel justified in sidestepping this task, because,
as some of the authors who have contributed to this book, and many of
those in the literature they refer to, have pointed out, it is simply too com-
plex an idea to do justice to in a single definition. Why then, address it at
all, when there are so many other less theoretically problematic aspects of
teaching and learning in online environments waiting to be investigated?
Well, in a sense, the whole project of this book is about answering that
question. As editors, we have, through our shared background in the use
of technology for distance teaching across languages and other domains
of social difference, become convinced that cultural issues are inseparable
from educational, linguistic and technological ones. Indeed, a review of past
research that is focused on the cultural dimensions of learning with tech-
nology suggests to us that the cultural perspective necessarily incorporates
consideration of other areas such as curriculum, interaction, collaboration,
pedagogy, language or assessment, albeit it can be argued that these are
more readily definable. In our view, discussions of theory and practice in
all these areas usually leave implicit questions that a ‘cultural’ perspective
throws up explicitly: who the participants are, what determines how they
relate to each other, who values what and why, who has power and who has
not. Further, our attention has sharply focused on these issues because of
the international, multilingual and increasingly ‘global’ context in which
we now work. Increasingly the technologies of online education are being
used to extend teaching and learning policies and practices developed by
2 Introduction: A Frame for the Discussion of Learning Cultures
and for universities in the Anglophone world (Britain, North America and
Australasia), to nontraditional and transnational audiences. This is a pro-
cess in which issues of culture and cultural identity, however defined, are
inevitably raised, but as the research literature also shows, are not often
satisfactorily addressed.
Defining a new ‘gap’ for research on culture in online learning
Several observers have suggested that there is a dearth of research in the

field of culture in online learning (e.g. Edmundson 2007: ix; Mason 2007;
Rogers et al., 2007). It may be the case that there is not much empiri-
cal research, at least by comparison to some of the aforementioned areas
(see, for example, the very considerable research literatures on ‘collabora-
tion’ and ‘community’). However there has been a reasonable amount of
discussion of issues and observation of effects over the past two decades,
going back to Henderson’s cultural critique of the design of multimedia
(Henderson 1996), then two seminal special journal editions on culture:
the British Journal of Educational Technology (1999, volume 30, number 3),
and Distance Education (2001, volume 22, number 1), and more recently
Edmundson’s edited book on globalized e-learning (Edmundson 2007).
And there has also been discussion and empirical work on culture-related
issues in other disciplines – including the sociology of communication, orga-
nizational studies, foreign language learning and intercultural studies, the
social-psychology of the internet – much of which is relevant to online edu-
cation. The scope of this discussion and the cross-disciplinary dimension of
the research are two other reasons why we hesitate to attempt a definition
of culture in the early part of this book. Better, we think, to let the range
of approaches to its problematization adopted by the contributors to this
book tell the story.
In compiling ‘Learning Cultures in Online Education’, therefore, we are
not looking primarily to fill a gap in existing empirical research, but instead
to draw together perspectives that problematize the workings of culture
in online education from a range of theoretical and disciplinary positions.
This, we hope, will help define a gap that we ourselves, and others, may be
motivated to try to fill empirically in our future research. We are also, in the
interests of cross-disciplinarity in educational research, setting out to draw
attention to drivers of educational change other than the purely instruc-
tional or pedagogical. In particular, we consider the following general edu-
cational and sociotechnical developments to be significant for our work:
r The growth of multiculturality and ‘widening participation’ policies in
national systems of higher education, which are intended to address the
Introduction: A Frame for the Discussion of Learning Cultures 3
increasing diversity of learners and their family, community, educational

and work backgrounds.
r The rapid expansion of transnational e-learning, including enrolments
of ‘foreign students’ and staff development of corporate, governmental,
agency and other ‘noneducational’ providers.
r The spread of new media communication practices (i.e. internet commu-
nity, socializing and informal learning practices), which are beginning to
influence educational development through the incorporation of Web
2.0 technologies into course design.
Developments driving the need to problematize

‘learning cultures’ – the growth of multiculturality
Many nations now have governmental policies on widening participation

in tertiary level or higher education in order to increase the numbers of
students from sections of society that traditionally do not continue their
education beyond school-leaving age. In the United Kingdom this includes
people from economically poorer areas, and those who have been out of
formal education for some time, as well as those from identifiable eth-
nic backgrounds under-represented in university populations (Bowl 2001).
Globally, there are additional groups that have found themselves excluded
from educational opportunity at any level. For example, in India: the dis-
abled, women, ethnic minorities, castes and tribes, prison inmates, senior
citizens, nomads and migrants, the geographically isolated (Sharma Sen
2002). As a development of ‘open learning’ systems, which have espoused
the educational cause of these marginalized sections of society (Singha Roy
2002: 269), online learning is now seen as one of the instruments of national
policies of inclusion. However, for many of these nontraditional learners,
formal education at university level itself represents a cultural challenge, fur-
ther compounded by the ‘digital gap’ and the constraints of low IT literacy
and unfamiliarity with online systems and pedagogies. A ‘widening partici-
pation’ approach to multiculturalism – which aims either at ‘assimilation’
or the celebrating of superficial aspects of ‘diversity’ – without acknowl-
edging aspects of cultural difference that identify and separate minority
groups from the dominant cultural mainstream – has been criticized by
cultural studies researchers (e.g. Hall 2000; Eriksen 2006) who question
the individualistic and neo-liberal perspective from which it emanates. In
one sense societies and communities may be considered to be enriched by
multiculturalism, a view that prevailed in ‘the West’ at the end of the twen-
tieth century, as typified by a UNESCO report on ‘Our Creative Diversity’
(World Commission on Culture and Development 1995). Yet, in another
sense they could be thought to be divided by it, as is increasingly felt to be

the case in the contemporary context of globalization, economic migration
and religious and ideological intolerance (Eriksen 2006). We will develop
this point further below in a discussion of essentialist frameworks and their
association with ‘Western’ online learning practices.
Research in online learning in multicultural contexts has reflected these
tensions around multiculturalism, and the meanings of cultural diversity
(e.g. Goodfellow et al. 2001; Chase et al. 2002; Gunawardena et al. 2003;
Goold et al. 2007). Henderson (1996), commenting on the design of interac-
tive multimedia for use by groups including indigenous learners, critiqued
three common attitudes of designers: an ‘inclusive’ approach, which incor-
porates cultural perspectives from minority groups but does not challenge
the dominant model; an ‘inverted’ model, which designs from the minority
cultural perspective but does not provide admittance into the mainstream
culture; and a ‘unidimensional’ model, which simply denies diversity and
treats everyone the same (Henderson 1996: 86). Henderson’s work has
informed researchers contributing to each of the special editions and the
edited book mentioned above, in particular the work of McLoughlin (1999,
2001, 2007) who argues for a pluralistic approach to designing for mul-
ticultural learners, using constructivist online teaching techniques, which
she considers are capable of adaptation to the degree of cultural inclusiv-
ity required. Others, however, taking the view that neither online learning
technologies nor their associated pedagogies are themselves culturally neu-
tral (Doherty 2004; Reeder et al. 2004; Hannon & D’Netto 2005) highlight
the role that ‘institutional needs, structures and strategies of implementa-
tion play in shaping learning experiences’ (Hannon et al. op. cit.), and
cast doubt on the feasibility even of pluralistic design as a solution to the
problems of difference in multicultural learning communities.
As a further aspect of the institutional shaping of learning that is currently
driving practice in higher education, we can point to the growing focus on
‘mode two’ knowledge production in the curriculum (Gibbons et al. 1994),
which responds to employability agendas and the developing interdepen-
dence between academic, professional and work-based learning contexts,
especially in the ‘new professions’ such as Business, Education, Healthcare,
Engineering, etc. While this is not usually seen as a cultural issue, it quali-
fies for consideration here, in our view, because of the differences that arise
in expectations, pedagogies, and literacies between traditional discipline-
based academic practices and work-based and professionalized ones (see
Goodfellow & Lea 2007, for a more developed discussion of this). In the
context of online learning, some research has suggested that not only do
‘academic’ and ‘business’ values inflect learner approaches to online com-
munication differently (Goodfellow 2004), but that differing institutional
values relating to the purpose and conduct of online communication can

inflect patterns of participation differently in learner populations with oth-
erwise similar ‘cultural’ profiles (Goodfellow & Hewling 2005). As work-
based and professional development practices penetrate further into the
traditional subject-based curriculum of the university, collisions of different
value systems in the conduct of online learning are likely to become more
frequent.
We would also incorporate, within this overview of ‘multiculturality’ as a
driver of research into learning cultures, the kinds of issues that have been
addressed by researchers in the fields of language learning and intercul-
tural communication, particularly those who have worked in the context of
the European Community’s notions of ‘cultural’ and ‘intercultural compe-
tence’. Europe is keen to educate its citizens in mutual tolerance (because
of the trauma of World War II), and through the Council of Europe (set
up in 1949) it has funded much educational research into intercultural-
ity. However, the notion of intercultural communicative ‘competence’ that
has emerged is a problematic one. Within applied linguistics and language
learning and teaching research, intercultural communication has been not
only an aspiration, but also an obstacle, to theoretical and pedagogical
progress, because of a lack of problematization of the notion of culture
itself. For instance, in research where a major component of culture has
been ascribed to individuals’ psychobiographies, Sealey and Carter (2004)
found that: ‘some of the key concepts used in mainstream studies of inter-
cultural communication are vulnerable to criticism’, in particular those that
present culture ‘as though it were an attribute of the individual, a property
of – or possession held by – people as a result of where they live, the religion
they practice, the colour of their skin and so on’ (2004: 153).
In the practice of telecollaboration (putting pairs of language learners
in different countries in contact via e-mail, so that they may learn each
others’ languages) that has grown up in the last few years, the construct
of culture has been reinterpreted in social terms, leading to a preoccupa-
tion with ‘intercultural’, ‘cross-cultural’ or ‘inter-discourse’ communication,
depending on school of thought (see Piller 2007). However, research into
telecollaborative projects for language learning carries many stories of full
or partial failure, not in the use of the code (French, Spanish, Japanese,
etc.) but in the partners’ understandings of each others’ cultures. Such fail-
ures of intercultural communication are described through the rhetoric of
‘styles’ and ‘genres’, assumptions of ‘culturally-contingent conversational
styles’ (Belz 2003: 82), or typified by observations such as: ‘When com-
puter users from different cultures communicate online with one another,
they may have different views on what genre (discourse type and discourse
style) is appropriate for the exchange’ (Ware & Kramsch 2005: 191). In this
literature, even when cultural conflicts are welcomed as learning oppor-

tunities, the assumption that a coherent ‘genre’ or ‘style’ is characteristic
of national cohorts is rarely interrogated. Robert O’Dowd, one of the con-
tributors to this book, has faced up to the pedagogical implications of this
problem by drawing attention to the frequency of ‘Failed Communication’
in telecollaborative exchanges (O’Dowd & Ritter 2006) and proposing a
detailed remedial scheme for practitioners faced with intercultural commu-
nication failure. Yet O’Dowd and Ritter’s notions of ‘intercultural commu-
nicative competence’ at the individual level, and ‘communicative style’ at
the socioinstitutional level, are themselves problematic. As Cameron (2002)
shows, through an examination of communication in service industries, of
increasing importance in neo-liberal economies primarily in the Anglo-
phone world since the 1960s, the culture of ‘effective communication’,
bears ‘a noncoincidental resemblance to the preferred speech-habits of edu-
cated middle-class and predominantly white people brought up in the USA’
(2002: 70). In this more critical understanding of culture, a socioeconomic
view of intercultural communication, focused on the commodification of
languages, is emphasized over the interpersonal.

‘learning cultures’ – the expansion of transnational e-learning
Socioeconomic development is to the fore in the second of the develop-

ments motivating our interest in online learning cultures at this point in
time; that is, the growing use of online and distance learning by educational
institutions to increase enrolments of ‘foreign students’ on programmes
developed primarily for domestic use (Garrett & Verbik 2003), and by cor-
porations and other organizations to support the learning of their staff
around the world (Dunn 2007: 257). Garrett and Verbik’s analysis of data
from the UK Higher Education Statistics Agency shows, for example, that
there were over 101,000 students from all over the world taking courses
from UK universities outside the United Kingdom in 2003. These student
numbers are outstripped by those of corporations, many of the largest of
which originate from the United States. According to Rogers et al. (2007),
the Cisco Corporation has 400,000 students in 10,000 academies in 150
countries (figures taken from Dennis et al. 2005), and the Global University
of Springfield has 600,000 students in 178 countries, teaching in more than
145 languages. Rogers et al. also draw attention to the global instructional
programmes of international agencies such as UNESCO and the World
Bank, which may be assumed to have more broadly social aims. Many of
the students on these programmes are currently being taught face-to-face,
but it is clear that the deployment of online technologies and pedagogies is

seen by these organizations as a key strategy for future development.
Research that focuses on the cultural implications of transnational online
learning in these contexts has gathered momentum in recent years, as evi-
denced by Edmundson’s edited book (Edmundson 2007), which has nine-
teen chapters on accounts and discussion under the heading ‘Globalized
E-Learning Cultural Challenges’. Much of this research is motivated by a
concern for what Wild called, in his 1999 editorial for the special issue
of the British Journal of Educational Technology (1999) ‘appropriate’ design
for cultural diversity. This perspective puts a clear focus on the problem
of learning designs that originate in ‘single cultural identities’ (Wild 1999:
198) being imposed on culturally diverse learners, and incorporates an
awareness that the ‘reach’ of dominant cultures is being extended via elec-
tronic media. However, the approach tends not to concern itself with the
institutional context of the learning, be it personal/professional develop-
ment, employment training or basic education, but instead concentrates
on the effect of differences between the learners, or between the cul-
tural assumptions of the learners and those embedded in the design of
materials.
The understanding of the notion of cultural difference that underpins
most current research arises from a view of culture as the manifestation in
individuals of all the values, beliefs and ways of thinking and doing things
that come with the membership of particular national, tribal, ethnic, civic or
religious communities. Culture, in this view, is a consequence of geograph-
ical, historical, climatic, religious, political, linguistic and other behaviour
and attitude-shaping influences that are assumed to act on everyone who
shares the same physical and social environment. It implies that individu-
als are habituated, or have their minds ‘hard wired’, through upbringing,
schooling and the acquisition of language and social customs, and that
they can be characterized by ways of behaving and interacting that are typ-
ical to people of that nationality or ethnic group. Much of the research
into cultural issues in transnational e-learning contexts is framed by this
kind of conceptualisation, often referring to the work of Hofstede and oth-
ers who have developed categorizations of national cultural characteristics
(e.g. Hall & Hall 1990; Hofstede 2001). These accounts determine differ-
ences between nationalities and ethnic groups by the use of categories such
as: ‘individualism’ (focused on self interest) and ‘collectivism’ (centred on
the interests of family and the wider community); or ‘high-context ‘ (using
the entire social context of an interaction: physical location, status of par-
ticipants, body language, etc. to interpret its meaning), and ‘low-context’
(focusing on the direct content of messages, seeking specific information
and/or expecting particular responses).
Essentialist frameworks such as these (descriptions of individuals in terms

of cultural attributes) have proved highly useful to researchers wishing to
tailor the design of online learning to the assumed cultural preferences
of individuals or groups. For example, Gunawardena et al. (2001) used
the power-distance categorization initially to distinguish between US and
Mexican students, before showing that online textual communications can
equalize differences in status between the groups. Kim and Bonk’s (2002)
study of collaboration between US, Korean and Finnish university students
drew attention to differences between the three groups in terms of indi-
vidualism and collectivism, high and low context and task and relationship
focus. Morse (2003) used the low-context/high-context categories to dis-
tinguish between the attitudes to online collaborative learning of students
from the United States, the United Kingdom, Australia and New Zealand on
the one hand, and Pakistan, China, Singapore, Sri Lanka and Thailand on
the other. Several of the contributors to Edmundson’s edited book (2007)
discuss these frameworks, and indeed Hofstede himself provides the Fore-
word to the book. As Edmundson notes (2007: ix–x), much of the research
on culture in e-learning has been conducted by Westerners, and critics
such as Fougere and Moulettes (2007) and Kim (2007) have pointed to
the ethnocentricism implied by this. Fougere and Moulettes, for example,
observe that so-called ‘individualistic’ societies identified in the research
literature are implicitly presented as ‘more technological, more legal, more
urban, more educated, more literate, more wealthy, more democratic, more
equal, more questioning, more socially mobile, etc.’ (2007: 11). These are,
of course, the same societies of the Anglo/North American/Australasian,
English-speaking, ICT-intensive cultural paradigm whose economic and
educational ideology and technology has framed the development of glob-
alized e-learning. We will take up this discussion in our Conclusion chapter.

‘learning cultures’ – new media communication practices
The third development driving our interest in online learning cultures is

the emergence of ‘new’ cultural and social identities in virtual learning
communities, which draw on contemporary cybercultures of the internet
as well as systems of cultural relations inherited from conventional educa-
tional or corporate settings. Whereas the phenomenon of community in
online settings has been widely discussed in terms of its ability to generate
human feelings and behaviours closely analogous to those experienced in
physically located communities (see, for example, the collection of soci-
ological accounts of virtual community in Smith and Kollock (1999), or
the more learning-oriented collection in Renninger and Shumar (2002),

it is only relatively recently that internet cultures started to be theorized
on their own terms (Gibbs & Krause 2000). Examples of such theorization
related to learning can be found in social-psychological studies of virtual
identity, which draw in the notion of culture, for example, Conoscenti’s
(2004) study of cross-cultural interactions in an online military training
context. Yet currently there is, to our knowledge, little research that relates
what might be called learner cyberidentities to cultures in online learning.
Reeder et al. (2004) explored some of the implications of Western/Anglo
‘values’ embedded in cyberculture; Goodfellow and Hewling (2005) exam-
ined the role of ‘cultural narratives of participation in online communities’
in shaping learner behaviour; Bayne (2005) has discussed ‘modes of iden-
tity formation’ by learners and teachers online and the anxiety generated in
the former by the multiple ‘selves’ that were available to be taken up. More
recently, theorizations of new learner identities have to take account of new
communication practices developing around technologies such as web logs
(blogs), wikis (e.g. wikipedia), social networking sites (e.g. MySpace), user-
generated content sites (e.g. YouTube) and other tools and environments
collectively known as Web 2.0 (O’Reilly 2005). These are being explored in
relation to younger learners and conventional school contexts (see Lemke &
van Helden’s contribution to this book), but have yet to surface in a signif-
icant way in research on the cultural dimensions of online learning.
New configurations of users
We believe these trends point to the likelihood of increasingly unpre-

dictable configurations of learners, teachers, employers, content-producers,
managers, administrators, technologists, researchers and others coming
together in online networks for educational purposes in the not-so-distant
future. However, as the dominant cultural influence in both the design-
ing and the researching of these diverse configurations, is likely to be
an Anglo/North American, English-speaking, ICT-intensive, pedagogically
constructivist educational paradigm, we wished to produce a more reflective
and critical perspective on the nature of culture in online education than
is currently to be found in the literature on online learning. We were aware
that there are a number of writers and researchers who are exploring the
idea that there is more to the issue of culture in the online classroom than
simply that which is brought in by individual learners from their national
backgrounds. These writers try to reflect the fact that constructions of dif-
ference between groups of learners, whether framed as ‘cultural’ or more
broadly social, are always ideological; that is, they are always part of wider
discourses of power and social identity. Asking the authors whose work is
represented in this book to help us develop the concept of ‘learning cul-
tures’ was a step towards such a perspective, one which we hope will help
ensure that the social and pedagogical benefits from the trends and devel-
opments listed above will keep pace with the corporate and institutional
ones.
Conceptualising ‘learning cultures’ – the structure of the book
A theoretical introduction to the complex concept of culture in online edu-

cation is undertaken by Charles Ess. Ess is one of the founders of the Cultural
Attitudes to Technology and Communication conference (CATAC) and has
written widely on the subjects of culture, education and technology (e.g.
Ess 2002a, 2002b; Ess & Sudweeks 2005). His opening chapter provides a
framing for the concept that is built on throughout the book. He rehearses
a critique of essentialist perspectives, arguing that cultural identity is hybrid
and has many more dimensions than nationality or mother tongue, making
it too complex to be adequately circumscribed by systems of categorization
such as Hofstede and his followers have developed. Ess develops the argu-
ment that online scenarios are themselves culturally coded spaces, inviting
the formation of ‘third cultures’ (from Raybourn et al. 2003) in which indi-
viduals combine elements from the different cultural traditions in which
they were socialized to form their own, new, self-created identity. His view
that there are no ‘well-grounded theory/theories sufficiently comprehen-
sive to do justice to the multiple dimensions of “culture”’ leads him to
challenge the very idea of online ‘learning cultures’. Instead, he concludes
with a challenge to the designers of online learning spaces to recognize
that face-to-face contact is essential to significant learning, since it is only
when we encounter one another face-to-face that we ‘recognize that we are
dealing with one another as distinctive human beings first – not simply as
tokens for overly simple and overly generalized accounts of cultures and
subcultures’.
The theme of online cultural hybridity is taken up by Charlotte Gunawar-
dena and her co-writers – Gayathri Jayatilleke, Ahmed Idrissi Alami and
Fadwa Bouachrine. Gunawardena was one of the contributors to the 2001
special edition of Distance Education mentioned above, and also to CATAC
2002, and has researched into culture and other dimensions of online com-
munication (e.g. Gunawardena et al. 2003). In this chapter the authors
address aspects of the playing out of cultural identity in internationalized
internet chat spaces, via an empirical study. Although they are reporting
on research with men and women of Moroccan and Sri Lankan nationality,
and the discussion takes account of the indirectness that they claim is char-
acteristic of personal communication patterns in both these national cul-
tures, their findings emphasize the possibility for hybrid cultural identities
to emerge out of local systems of activity such as internet chat. In partic-
ular, they stress the role of the medium of interaction, the cyberculture,
rather than the specific national cultural characteristics of the participants,
in constructing the shared knowledge, beliefs and behaviours that make
up an online group’s reality. This lays a basis for discussion of the ways
that participants’ identities, including gender and religious identities, are
enacted and/or concealed as part of the process of negotiating norms
of communication online. The implications of the emergence of ‘unique
online cultures’ for designers of online learning spaces are clearly drawn.
Other contributors address the concept of learning culture directly, draw-
ing on this wider understanding of culture as an ongoing process of identity-
construction through interaction, and relating it to different online learn-
ing contexts, including ones in which face-to-face teachers and learners
are moving online for the first time as part of new institutional e-learning
policies. Robert O’Dowd has published extensively in the field of language
and intercultural learning, and is responsible for the ideas about ‘failed’
intercultural communication mentioned earlier. In his chapter he discusses
the implementation of online learning in a Spanish campus-based univer-
sity, and shows how the professional identities of teachers are implicated in
the attempt both to adapt new media to existing practices, and to develop
the new social constructivist practices which the tools claim to promote.
For example, teachers who take up online practices may regard themselves
as ‘progressive’ in the sense of having a commitment to learner-centred
teaching. However, in the early stages, at least, they may use the environ-
ment to reconstruct conventional teacher-centred approaches, such as exer-
cising covert control through the facility for student monitoring that the
online environment affords. Through three case studies he demonstrates
how learning cultures operate at several levels, including at the level of the
community of practitioners (the faculty), the policy initiatives of the insti-
tution, and the wider discourses of educational professionalism, as well as
in the self-positioning of the teachers themselves.
Christine Develotte addresses the same theme of induction into online
learning cultures as O’Dowd does, but with a focus on learners, and on what
she sees as ‘significant moments’ of pedagogical socialization, when there
is a break between the kind of behaviour associated with on-site (face-to-
face) learning, and that which is appropriate to online interaction. She uses
a study of student reflections on the experience of taking an online in a
course in Teaching French As a Foreign Language to analyze the character-
istics of the ‘discursive space’, which the online learning environment has
represented for these learners, and to track their emotional and cognitive
adaptation to the new ‘job’ of being an online learner. In her analysis, while
learners may view themselves as emancipated from their ‘student’ roles
through online social interaction, at the same time they experience online
textual activity as socially demanding because it involves the production of
writing, which is subject to critique by teachers and more capable peers.
Nevertheless, she argues that the learning culture which is constructed in
the process is capable of being more convivial, less competitive, having more
connections between students and between students and teachers and hav-
ing a different relationship to knowledge, than the more familiar, but less
dynamic, on-site condition.
The textuality of online learning environments is further explored by
Leah Macfadyen, in particular the relation of ‘textual reality’ to the idea
(introduced by Ess) that significant learning necessitates physical embodi-
ment. Macfadyen has been involved in the production of two seminal texts
exploring postessentialist views of culture in online learning (Chase et al.
2002 and Reeder et al. 2004) and here she discusses online learning cul-
tures as communities in which the ‘rules of engagement’ have to be co-
constructed. This is a process that involves the performing of aspects of
normally embodied identities, including age, status and racial or ethnic
origins, via online textual rituals during which self-identity is necessarily
reconstructed. She contextualizes this view of online learning cultures as
constructed in context through an account of interactions between partic-
ipants on an online course in global citizenship, some of whom came to
realize that by participating in such a course they were indeed reconstruct-
ing themselves as global citizens.
Like Macfadyen, Anne Hewling explores the nature of ‘textualized’ inter-
action, and its role in the negotiation of culture in the online environment,
taking up the concept of ‘third culture’ introduced by Ess, to describe the
social reality that emerges out of interaction between online learners from
different cultural, and indeed multicultural, backgrounds. Her argument
is informed by observations from a study of students on an online Masters
course in open and distance learning. Like O’Dowd and Develotte, she
focuses on the appearance and functionality of the virtual learning envi-
ronments in which online learning takes place, but she goes on to criticize
the functional efficiency of the systems in practice, describing a number of
ways in which the technology of a virtual learning environment can appear
to be functioning autonomously, sometimes taking on a role as the site of
institutional authority in place of the university itself. Unpredictable system
functionality, when distributed over space and time, she argues, leads to a
situation where, from the human participants’ point of view, the technology
appears to behave as a cultural actor. The combination of the unpredictable
technology and, for some learners, the unfamiliar pedagogy based on col-
laborative learning principles, proved to be a cultural challenge even when
the learners’ own national cultural backgrounds were the same as that of
the host institution. The variability and unpredictability of system behaviour
within the current generation of virtual learning environment platforms is
now further amplified by recent developments in networking and mobile
technologies, creating an even wider range of communicative possibilities
for online learners, and an even greater impression of the technology as
proactive in the interaction. Hewling’s approach to theorizing these obser-
vations is to introduce the notion of cultural ecology as a metaphor for the
ways in which the identities of the human participants in online education
are in negotiation as much with the technology as with each other.
Some of the wider implications of ‘new’ cultural configurations in online
education are discussed from the perspectives of social theory in a chap-
ter on postnational pedagogical genres by Cathie Doherty. Doherty’s most
recent work has focused on the wider social phenomenon of internation-
alized education, and in this chapter the online learners are characterized
not by assumed national characteristics but by their relation to the provid-
ing institution, either as ‘domestic’ or as ‘international’ students depending
on the extent to which they share familiarity with the procedures and text
genres that frame teaching and learning practices in this particular insti-
tution. Her study comes from an Australian university’s online Masters in
Business Administration course, and focuses on the ‘troubling’ of assess-
ment procedures, and the rhetoric of self-description by students who are
distanced from the local pedagogical conventions of the course by their
‘transnational’ life worlds rather than by their national cultural characteris-
tics. Doherty argues that truly postnational learning cultures should position
all students as international, regardless of the provenance of the learning
material or the national identity of the participants.
Jay Lemke and Caspar van Helden’s position on learning cultures is
expressed as a critique of schooling reminiscent of Ivan Illich’s (1971)
well-known attack on formal education systems. Lemke has written exten-
sively on new media and education and also on virtual culture (e.g. Lemke
2005a). Here, he argues that contemporary culture reflects an unstable mix
of identities drawing on marketing and popular media as well as the tra-
ditional resources of ethnicity and nationality, class and age, gender and
sexuality, etc. They argue that younger learners who live a ‘globalized, indi-
vidualized, lifelong-learning biography’ find their formal education to be
an obstruction to their development. For many of these learners and other
users of internet-based resources, popular culture media and personal social
networks (including online communities) have become key sources of iden-
tity models and cultural resources for affiliation and identification. This
addresses what education does not, and is meaningful for students in ways
the curriculum is not. The authors go on to argue that although we may
believe there is an imbalance of power between corporate media producers
and distributors, and individual consumers, research on ‘fan communities’
around television programs, computer games and movies, suggests a dif-
ferent picture. Individuals and their informal communities transform and
re-appropriate media to fashion identities and subcultures that are often
subversive of marketing messages and dominant economic interests. The
implications of this for online learning follow from the need to ‘go beyond
both the offline culture of schools and the online culture of media’ and
investigate how young people learn successfully outside the school and cur-
riculum, including the role of passion, affect and emotion in learning, and
the processes by which learners are motivated to identify with particular ele-
ments of popular culture, affinity groups and personal and social projects
and agendas.
Summary
To sum up our approach to this book, then, we offer a frame for the dis-
cussion of learning cultures, by opening with a critique of the best-known
frameworks available for cultural analysis outside the online world, coupled
with a challenge to the very possibility of developing a notion of online cul-
ture. We go on to provide counterpoints to this, by showcasing six studies
that claim that the online situation allows people to construct identities that
would not be available to them in face-to-face situations, as men or women,
as professionals (continuing and initial teachers) and as citizens partaking
in the discourses of globalization, or trying to gain some purchase over
the unpredictable, changeable semiotic effects generated by their interac-
tion with IT systems. The range of learner types and data discussed allows
multiple perspectives on the online learning experience (affective, cogni-
tive, semiotic, symbolic, ergonomic, political) to emerge, suggesting ways
through which the nature of ‘learning cultures’ can begin to be understood.
Finally, while the first frame of the book showed how traditional theories
of culture faced up to the social practices of the online life, through our
final frame we turn towards the future, no longer asking what we know
about online learning cultures but what the traditional guardians of learn-
ing do not know about the ever-expanding learning cultures of tomorrow’s
learners.
Chapter 1
When the Solution Becomes the Problem:

Cultures and Individuals As Obstacles to
Online Learning
Charles Ess
Drury University, USA
Introduction
In keeping with and reflecting the then-prevailing views of computer-

mediated communication (CMC), the first bloom of enthusiasm in the
1990s for the seemingly unlimited possibilities of online learning was
marked by the rhetoric of ‘revolution’. This rhetoric rested on especially
two sets of assumptions. The first were those articulated by the French
philosopher René Descartes, whose notions of mind and body have deeply
shaped the modern West (e.g. 1637, 1641). For Descartes, the split between
thinking mind and unthinking body is so radical that whatever takes place
in the material and bodily domain has no real effect on the person as essen-
tially mind (Slater 2002: 538; Ess 2004; Cavanagh 2007: 120–125). Known as
Cartesian dualism, this assumption then played into a second set of assump-
tions driving the then-dominant postmodernism. Echoing Descartes’ radical
split between mind and body, many postmodernists argued for an equally
radical split between modernity and postmodernity. (Broadly construed,
‘modernity’ was taken in these contexts to be defined by Enlightenment
understandings of emancipation through reason, science and technology –
emancipation further tied to the communication technologies of literacy
and print. Postmodernity, in contrast, begins with a radical rejection of such
Enlightenment notions).
Out of the modernity/postmodernity dichotomy emerged visions of
Information and Communication Technologies (ICTs) as instantiating post-
modern rejections of ostensibly ‘linear’ Enlightenment reason and logic
16 Learning Cultures in Online Education
(seen to be tied to the communication technologies of literacy and print):

specifically, these technologies made possible nonlinear hypertexts and,
more broadly, a radically free space of play, creativity and interconnectivity
widely referred to in terms of ‘cyberspace’ (first used by the science-fiction
novelist William Gibson, 1984). In particular, the text-based communica-
tion facilitated in cyberspace was widely characterized, following the work
of Ong (1982), as a ‘secondary orality’, one that moves beyond literacy
and print to recover something of an earlier, primary orality – the com-
munication technology of pre-literate peoples that emphasizes association,
repetition, rhyme, the emotional, the particular and other aspects of nar-
rative as techniques of memory. To be sure, Ong himself emphasized that
secondary orality rested on and incorporated both literacy and print. As
a simple example: exchanges in a chat room or through an instant mes-
saging service closely resemble early orality insofar as these exchanges are
relatively quick and spontaneous, often more emotive, and nonlinear (i.e.
easily taking different, not always obviously connected paths). At the same
time, however, literacy is apparent in the exchanges themselves as primarily
text-based: and, insofar as such exchanges may be recorded and archived,
they thereby move towards the functionality of print, which makes words
into objects, removed from their authors. But where secondary orality for
Ong was thus more of a synthesis of current and earlier communication
technologies, postmodern theorists characteristically applied the distinc-
tion between secondary orality, on the one hand, and print and literacy,
on the other, in a dualistic fashion: the result was (again) the radical split
between modernity (literacy-print) and postmodernity (secondary orality).
These two sets of dualisms then made it possible to believe that an emerg-
ing cyberspace would quickly and completely replace the practices and insti-
tutions associated with Enlightenment reason, literacy and print. (For more
detailed accounts of this brief overview, see Slater 2002, Cavanagh 2007). If
we are, in fact, simply disembodied minds inhabiting a virtual cyberspace
radically divorced from what enthusiasts contemptuously referred to as
‘meatspace’ (Gibson 1984: 239; Barlow 1996), then education would indeed
be most ideally carried out in an exclusively virtual online environment as
well. Hence, at least within the US context, along with the imminent end of
‘meatspace’ in general, 1990s enthusiasts proclaimed the impending end
of the book, along with the disappearance of ‘bricks-and-mortar’ schools
and so-called ‘seated’ (in contrast with online or virtual) classrooms: all of
this unpleasant materiality would be replaced instead by communication
in the form of information processed and exchanged exclusively through
electronic media.
These early visions of revolution, however, quickly crashed upon a range
of both theoretical and real-world problems. To begin with, the Cartesian
When the Solution Becomes the Problem 17
mind-body dualism – itself long rejected by philosophers on various grounds

– was dramatically countered in emerging research in such disciplines as
learning theory and cognitive psychology. More contemporary understand-
ings of the human being as a knowing subject now stress the essential role
of embodiment to our processes of learning, recalling and then enact-
ing our knowledge in the world (cf. Stuart forthcoming). Similarly, overly
simple postmodernist dualisms fell by the wayside, including the dualistic
(mis)reading of the secondary orality of cyberspace as opposed to print
and literacy. Finally, while these developments were taking place at more
theoretical levels, at the pragmatic level, initial efforts to develop online edu-
cation in earnest began to demonstrate that the real costs of developing and
implementing online educational materials far exceeded initial estimates.
Finally, especially as institutions sought to cash in on a burgeoning global
demand for online courses, online educators quickly encountered two sorts
of stubborn obstacles. The first are the manifold problems created by the
diverse, and oftentimes conflicting, cultures of online participants. To see
how this is so, I begin with representative efforts to take up frameworks
of cultural analysis – starting with those developed by Hall (1976) and
Hofstede (1980, 1983, 1984, 1991) – first with regard to intercultural com-
munication via ICTs in general, and then specifically with regard to online
learning. While Hofstede and Hall are widely and, up to a point, effectively,
used by researchers for such analyses, several important criticisms of these
frameworks make clear two important limits to their usefulness. One is their
inability to appropriately inform the design of online environments for par-
ticipants of multiple cultures, including instructors. The other is their lack
of interest in issues about how to ‘be’ in these environments, a dimension
that I address next, and which has also been foregrounded by other chapters
in this book. Indeed, once these serious limitations to Hall and Hofstede
become clear, we are then faced with an embarrassing ‘theory gap’: while
more sophisticated theories are emerging (e.g. Baumgartner 2003, Cantoni
et al. 2006), there appears to be no well-grounded theory/theories suffi-
ciently comprehensive to do justice to the multiple dimensions of ‘culture’
that have been demonstrated to impact cross-cultural online communica-
tion and learning.
The second obstacle is nothing less than the individual learner as such,
that is, the person who blends multiple cultures and subcultures in specific
ways, unique to each individual, coupled with his or her own characteris-
tic learning style. I highlight two levels of difficulty here, beginning with
the individual as a member of multiple and shifting cultures, and who
thereby represents a distinctive set of the multiple possible combinations
of national and linguistic cultures, youth culture(s), ethnic and/or other
subculture(s), etc. Such individuals may largely escape the relatively broad
frameworks developed by Hall and Hofstede. Moreover, as Hewling (2005)

has documented with particular force regarding online teaching environ-
ments, such individuals online create in collaboration with one another
their own new cultural amalgams – distinctive syntheses of various elements
drawn from diverse cultures that again escape even our limited models of
cultural analysis as applied to online learning.
As I emphasize in my concluding remarks, none of these observations
are intended to pose fatal objections to the enterprise of online learning.
Rather, I offer these in the conviction that only by recognizing both the
strengths and limitations of our technologies – most especially, vis-à-vis the
central but still relatively neglected role of culture – will we be able to realize
their best potentials for teaching and learning.
Revolution versus reality: The 1990s’ promises and the

twenty-first century realities of online education
As we have begun to see, English-language conceptions and enthusiasms for

‘cyberspace’ – the metaphorical place in which human beings and machines
(such as artificial agents) may communicate with one another by way of
networked ICTs – were marked early on by a presumed Cartesian, radical
split between mind and body. In the terms made popular by William Gib-
son’s seminal novel, Neuromancer , the body belongs to an openly despised
‘meatspace’ – while the mind can enjoy god-like freedom in ‘cyberspace’
(e.g. Gibson 1984: 239). The peak of techno-utopian optimism regarding
such liberation in cyberspace is represented in Barlow’s ‘Declaration of the
independence of cyberspace’ – a declaration that likewise calls for ‘libera-
tion’, largely in the form of escape from ‘meatspace’ (Barlow 1996).
The 1990s rhetoric of ‘revolution’ via ICTs was further fuelled by a promi-
nent theory of communication – one affiliated with the work of Innis (1951),
McLuhan (1962, 1964), Ong (1982) and Eisenstein (1983) and for discus-
sion, see Chesebro and Bertelsen 1996). Taking diverse forms of communi-
cation as (at least necessary) conditions of culture, this framework argued
that modern institutions (e.g. democratic polity, natural science, the lib-
eral state, etc.) were closely wedded to the communication technologies of
print and literacy. As we have seen, Ong famously argued that an emerg-
ing cyberspace would be marked by a ‘secondary orality’. While for Ong,
secondary orality of necessity rested on and incorporated both literacy and
print, for postmodern enthusiasts caught in the spell of simple dualisms
between modernity (as affiliated with literacy and print) and postmodernity
(affiliated with secondary orality), Ong’s contrast, when (mis)understood
dualistically, nicely supported the larger vision of an imminent and revolu-
tionary overturning of modern institutions.
It is also the case (at least in the West) that ‘revolution’ sells, and so it
is not an accident that more or less every new technology and technologi-
cal development, ranging from personal computers to blogs, is introduced
into the marketplace with breathless claims that technology X is ‘revolu-
tionary’ (‘Join the blog revolution!’ etc.). Given this matrix of economic,
political and theoretical factors, it is not surprising that higher education
likewise jumped on the ostensibly revolutionary bandwagon inaugurated by
networked ICTs and prevailing conceptions of ‘cyberspace’. At least within
the US context, proponents of distance education – now migrating from its
primarily paper-based correspondence models and early efforts to exploit
radio and TV into the online world – hailed the imminent end of the book,
and with it, ‘bricks-and-mortar’ schools and their ‘seated’ classrooms (both
pejorative terms defining traditional higher education from the standpoint
of the purely ‘virtual’).
But as symbolized by the (in)famous dot.com collapse at the beginning of
the twenty-first century, 1990s ‘proponents’ visions and claims of imminent
revolution, whether in the political or educational orders, soon ran aground
on several stubborn realities. In addition to emerging insights regarding
the essential role of embodiment for the learning, knowing and enacting
self, additional empirical research began to demonstrate that Cartesian
assumptions regarding a radical mind-body split fail to materialize, so to
speak, in a ‘cyberspace’ radically distinct from an ostensible ‘meatspace’
(cf. chap. 9: 120–131). So, for example, while ‘virtual communities’ cer-
tainly offer unique facilities and advantages, in large measure, such com-
munities remain closely connected with their participants’ real-world bod-
ies, and thereby their real-world histories, values, traditions, etc. (e.g. Baym
2002; Slater 2002; Cavanagh 2007, ch. 8: 102–119). Similarly, what we may
call the postmodernist (mis)reading of the Innis-Ong schema began to
fray in the face of several challenges, beginning with a criticism of its ten-
dency towards an overly simple technological determinism that is likewise
no longer supported by empirical evidence (Ess 1999; Slater 2002: 534). Per-
haps most persuasively, emerging economic realities likewise confounded
1990s enthusiasms. In particular, contrary to hopes that distance educa-
tion would serve as a lucrative cash cow for universities facing continuously
increasing costs (Carr 2001), experience and a number of hard-nosed analy-
ses demonstrated that the costs of designing, producing and implementing
computer-mediated distance education far exceeded original assumptions
and estimates (e.g. Rumble 2001; Trucano 2005; cf. Ess 2006).
Finally, as institutions understandably sought to profit from a burgeoning
global demand for online courses, two sorts of additional obstacles emerged,
beginning with the manifold problems created by the diverse, and often-
times conflicting, cultures of online participants. As educators attempted
to come to grips with the role of culture in shaping online interaction and
communication by taking up a number of frameworks for cultural analysis –

primarily, those developed by Hall (1976) and Hofstede (1980, 1983, 1984,
1991) – a second difficulty emerged: namely, that of the individual learner
who, for a variety of important reasons, confounded the cultural analyses ini-
tially sought by online educators as ways of resolving the problems and con-
flicts, ostensibly rooted in culture, which appeared in the online classroom.
Transnational online learning: ‘culture’ as a solution – ‘culture’

as a problem
‘Culture’ interacts with online learning in a range of ways, beginning with

a characteristic effort to ignore it altogether. Despite the fact that ICTs now
connect more than one-sixth of the world’s population, thereby facilitating
cross-cultural contact with astonishing speed and scope, there remains a
remarkable assumption among many ICT designers (including those in the
field of online education) that ‘culture’ is largely irrelevant to their efforts.
So, for example, in their interviews with instructional designers, Rogers
et al. quote an interviewee they refer to pseudonymously as ‘Derek’:
I believe that good instructional design principles and techniques are
universal, cross-cultural. It doesn’t matter where in the world they are
coming from [. . .].
(Rogers et al. 2007: 210)
The available evidence suggests exactly the contrary. As with every other
dimension of human activity, so with ICTs: their design, usages and effects
are deeply shaped by culture. Broadly, this can be seen in a wide range of
examples of failures of ICT design and implementation. Such failures can be
traced to, and thereby bring to the foreground, fatal contrasts and conflicts
between the cultural values and communicative preferences embedded in
ICTs (i.e. their design, implementation and intended outcomes), and the
communicative preferences and cultural values of the ‘target’ cultures in
which specific users are located. (For a representative overview of this lit-
erature, see: Ess 2001; Ess & Sudweeks 2001a and b, 2003, 2005). But this
means more specifically that online learning technologies and techniques
grounded in one’s culture/s will likewise reflect the cultural values and
communicative preferences of that culture, including basic assumptions
regarding what sorts of knowledge(s) are of value (and hence to be learned)
and how those knowledges are to be acquired. As we shall soon see, when
taken up by students in cultures shaped by different assumptions and values,
including different understandings of what counts as valuable knowledge
and how such knowledge is to be acquired, such implementations generally
fail.
So, for example, Postma has documented how South African Learning
Centres – as designed by whites for use by indigenous South Africans – fail to
accomplish their well-intended goals of helping indigenous peoples acquire
the skills and literacy needed to successfully engage in the ‘information soci-
ety’. In particular, Postma notes a sharp cultural conflict between the peda-
gogical and epistemological assumptions of the ICT designers, and those of
their indigenous clients. Briefly, white designers follow the European ‘quiet
library’ model (my term), one that emphasizes individual and silent study
of texts – thereby requiring high literacy skills. In contrast, for many indige-
nous peoples, knowledge and learning are usually collective activities – and
these are indeed often noisy, in part as they emphasize group oral discussion
and/or performative expression of important knowledge in song and dance
as technologies of memory appropriate to oral societies (Postma 2001; cf.
Addison and Sirkissoon 2004; Snyman and Hulbert 2004). Similar contrasts
have been documented with regard to efforts to work with the Maori peo-
ple of New Zealand (Duncker 2002; Keegan et al. 2004). In both instances,
the not-so-surprising result is that these Learning Centres largely fail to
accomplish their intended goals.
Of course, there have been efforts to analyze ‘culture’, both with regard
to intercultural communication online more generally, and within online
learning in particular, in order to avoid these sorts of culturally rooted
failures (e.g. Williams 2000; Chambers 2003). As mentioned earlier, within
the larger literature, briefly, a number of important analyses begin with the
work of Hall (1976) and Hofstede (1980, 1983, 1984, 1991).
Three of the five cultural axes developed by Hofstede have emerged as
especially salient to online analyses of culture:
Individualism vis-à-vis Collectivism: more collective cultures (indigenous

cultures, classical China, Panama, Ecuador) stress the importance of
cooperation and group harmony, while more individualist cultures
(United States, Australia) stress individual initiative, competition and
recognition.
Uncertainty Avoidance: high uncertainty avoidance cultures (Greece, Por-
tugal) avoid uncertainty, including change, while low uncertainty cul-
tures (Jamaica, Singapore) tend to embrace change.
Power Distance: high power distance cultures (e.g. Malaysia, Guatemala,
Mexico) accept hierarchies and affiliated disparities between power,
wealth and status, while low power distance cultures (Austria, Israel,
New Zealand) emphasize greater equality. (Callahan 2005; Hermeking
2005)
The remaining two axes – Long-Term Orientation (the ‘Confucian’ axis)
and Masculinity (emphasizing traditional gender roles) – generally
seem to have little impact on online communication: but see Baum-

gartner (2003).
To be sure, numerous researchers have made good use of these first three
axes as frameworks for analyzing cross-cultural communication online (e.g.
Callahan 2005; Hermeking 2005; Würtz 2005). At the same time, however,
Hall and Hofstede have shown themselves to be vulnerable to both the-
oretical critique and empirical limitations. To begin with, Lübcke (2006)
has documented how Hofstede’s work assumed a national culture as some-
thing largely fixed and shared in equal degrees by all its members. This
approach misses, however, equally critical elements of regional cultures
within a national culture (e.g. between northern and southern France: see
Deyrich & Matas-Runquist 2006). Moreover, Hofstede assumed that ‘cul-
ture’ was something largely fixed and homogenous – whereas ‘culture’
appears rather to be fluid and in a constant process (whether slowly or
quickly) of interacting with and thereby hybridizing with other cultures.
Also, specific individuals can vary significantly in terms of how far they
reflect Hofstedian cultural characteristics such as Uncertainty Avoidance,
Individualism-Collectivism, Power Distance, etc. (Lübcke 2006: 536–539).
Moreover, the relatively small number of cultural dimensions identified by
Hofstede (as well as Hall), while useful up to a point, clearly fail to encom-
pass ‘culture’ as more broadly implicating some fifty to seventy elements as
identified by anthropologists and linguists (e.g. the widely used ‘iceberg’
model of culture, Roche 2008: 230.)
For his part, Hall developed the distinction between high context/low
content (HC) and low context/high content (LC) cultures (1976). As the
term suggests, communication in HC cultures depends more on context,
including the rich milieu of specific social and family relationships, and as
conveyed at least as much by nonverbal forms of communication such as
gaze, gesture, body distance, etc., as by explicit verbal/textual statements.
HC communication tends to be more indirect than direct: in HC cultures,
the responsibility for understanding a message lies more with the receiver
than the sender (Würtz 2005). LC cultures, in contrast, stress the content
of a message and a correlative emphasis on explicitness and clarity as the
responsibility of the sender. Broadly, the Germanic cultures (the Nether-
lands, Germany, Austria and the Scandinavian countries) are strongly LC,
while Arabic and Japanese cultures are strongly HC. Between these two
poles, Anglo-American cultures are moderately LC, while Latin cultures
(French, Italian and Latin-American, respectively) are increasingly HC (see
Hermeking 2005: Figure 3).
While more recent research and frameworks find that Hall and Hofstede
remain salient and useful, it appears that at least twenty-two cultural factors
affect the design and appropriation of new technologies (Baumgartner
2003). Hence, while Hall and Hofstede remain useful starting points for
analyzing cross-cultural communication online, it is increasingly clear that
their frameworks must be expanded and refined (Ess & Sudweeks 2005).
A similar pattern of development may be discerned in the domain of
online education – what Koch has called ‘intercultural e-learning’ (2006:
218). To begin with, Rogers et al. observe that, just as in CMC and Human-
Computer-Interaction (HCI) literature more broadly, there is a limited but
growing awareness of the role of culture and cultural differences in online
instructional design (2007: 198). Nonetheless, they identify three major
obstacles to attending to culture – beyond, that is, the sort of naı̈ve ethno-
centrism at work in designers such as ‘Derek’ who appear to believe that
their understanding of things is universal. These obstacles are: (1) primary
attention to content development; (2) lack of evaluation in real-world prac-
tice; and (3) organizational structures – including economic limitations –
that work against attending to culture (Rogers et al. 2007: 207ff.)
For her part, Koch agrees that there has been relatively little attention
paid to ‘culture’ in the literature and research relevant to online education
– even though the influence of social constructivism in both traditional and
online pedagogical theory and research inevitably points to the role of cul-
ture (2006: 218ff.). Nonetheless, Koch identifies three different conceptions
of ‘culture’ in an emerging literature in intercultural e-learning: culture as
structure (including the approaches associated with Hofstede); culture as
text (e.g. approaches shaped by cultural anthropology, including the sem-
inal figures of Geertz 1973, and Hannerz 1992); and culture as practice
and community (affiliated especially with Lave & Wenger 2002). While all
three offer advantages, the second approach – culture as text – begins with
a critical assumption regarding culture, one that overcomes one of the
main weaknesses we have seen in Hofstede: rather than viewing ‘culture’
as homogenous, static and hermetically sealed off from other cultures, this
approach rather begins with:
[. . .] a more flexible understanding of culture in which the adaptability,
flexibility and creativity of cultural communities are emphasized. Cultural
belonging is then understood as the result of a self-portrayal, or rather
the construction of an individual identity, which is actively produced and
performed situationally, in order to create differences between one group
and others or to differentiate oneself.
(Koch 2006: 220)
This approach further recognizes that ‘technology itself [is] a culturally
produced and thus also culturally shaped ‘artifact’ (sic) – in contrast, that
is, with the technological instrumentalism that predominates in much HCI
and CMC literature; that is, the view that technology is somehow culturally
neutral (‘just a tool’) and hence that its design and implementation require
no attention to its cultural origins, etc. More broadly, this approach means
that:
Digital communication environments are seen here as places in which
identity can be constructed and negotiated through interaction with
other participants. Online scenarios are therefore relatively open, only
slightly culturally coded spaces, which, because of this openness, invite
the formation of a so-called ‘third culture’.
(Raybourn et al. 2003)
In this ‘third culture’, individuals combine elements from the different
cultural traditions in which they were socialized to form their own, new,
self-created identity. In doing so, they transcend their own traditionally,
nationally or ethnically influenced cultural ties in favour of constructs in
which elements from different traditions are recombined to form a new
cultural self-perception.
(Koch 2006: 220).
Such ‘third cultures’ are increasingly manifest – in part, precisely, as
artefacts of the rapidly expanding cross-cultural encounters online made
possible by the internet and the web. For example, Japan, China and Thai-
land have – until recently – viewed anything resembling individual privacy as
strongly negative (e.g. Nakada & Tamura 2005; Lü 2005; Rananand, 2007,
for the respective countries above). This characteristic suspicion of, and
contempt for, individual ‘privacy’ rests on assumptions central to each cul-
ture – assumptions sharply contrasting with those undergirding modern
Western notions of the individual and of the correlative importance of per-
sonal privacy as a primary good and essential right. It is hence striking that
in these countries, young people – as influenced by their extensive expo-
sure to Western cultures through diverse media – increasingly insist upon
Western-like notions of individual privacy. These notions, however, remain
shaded and limited by their specific contexts in societies still deeply shaped
by Confucian and Buddhist traditions. What is emerging here, then, is a
‘third culture’ notion of privacy, one that conjoins both Western and Asian
values and views (see Ess 2005, for further discussion).
Hence, the ‘culture as text’ approach seems especially well-suited to
online classrooms involving participants from more than one culture, pre-
cisely as practitioners here point towards just the emergence of ‘third identi-
ties’ as part and parcel of the online educational experience, an emergence
that frequently eludes the broad cultural frameworks (e.g. as affiliated with
Hofstede) that educators have sought to apply to the online environment.
So, for example, in addition to Raybourn et al. (2003), Rodrigues (2004)
documents the emergence of a hybridization between (North) American
formality and Brazilian informality in an internet-based learning project.
Individuals as the problem: cultures, subcultures and

learning styles
Hybridization in online classrooms thus evades extant frameworks of cul-

tural analysis: moreover, the individual learner likewise escapes such frame-
works – first, as we have seen, as the individual is more than simply a token for
a presumptively monolithic national culture. In addition, individuals repre-
sent a constantly shifting intersection of multiple cultures and subcultures,
which in turn alter over time at varying rates, that is, from national/linguistic
cultures that change relatively slowly, to youth cultures, which change very
quickly (e.g. as we have seen, with regard to such fundamental notions as
privacy and the nature of the self). A given individual may further reflect
some number of ethnic and/or other subcultures, including those shaped
by economic and social class. Insofar as each individual may be thought of
as a distinctive construction and inflection of each of these diverse levels
of ‘culture’, she or he may inhabit a near-infinite continuum of possibil-
ities that are only poorly and incompletely captured by the five cultural
dimensions articulated by Hall and Hofstede.
More radically, as we have seen, the cross-cultural online learning envi-
ronment facilitates such individuals’ creation of distinctive new syntheses
and amalgams of diverse cultural elements that again escape overly simple
frameworks of cultural analyses. Hewling (2005), for example, documents
forcefully how students in one of her intercultural online classrooms repeat-
edly exhibited communicative behaviours and values that (a) either could
not have been predicted by using Hofstede or, worse yet (b), directly con-
tradicted whatever predictions one might have made on the basis of those
schema. So Hewling finds that among her students – Canadians, a North
American, and a Sudanese – concerns about authority are expressed pri-
marily by the (North) Americans. But according to Hofstede’s framework,
(North) Americans, as members of a low-power distant country, should be
least concerned about issues of authority. Rather, as members of an individ-
ualist country, according to Hofstede, these students should be most likely
to express their opinions directly and without hesitation. Hewling (2005),
however, shows that this was not the case.
For her part, Hewling proposes a content analysis methodology that she
argues is more appropriate for analyzing the intercultural communication
that takes place in online classrooms (2005) – a methodology that we can
understand to incorporate both Koch’s second approach (‘culture as text’)
and third approach (‘culture as community and practice’) to cultural anal-
ysis (Koch 2006: 221ff.). Additional frameworks for cultural analysis have
also been proposed. One of the most notable has been developed by Can-
toni and his colleagues. Their frameworks take up Baumgartner’s much
more complex matrix of cultural dimensions, one that adds to Hall and
Hofstede an additional seventeen cultural factors developed in part from
the theoretical work of Gould (2005). The resulting framework is then
applied to a project involving ICTs for teacher-training in Brazil (Cantoni et
al. 2006). But again, this sophisticated enhancement of Hall and Hofstede
as a framework for cultural analysis of intercultural online learning reiter-
ates the point already made regarding intercultural communication online:
while Hall and Hofstede (among others) may be used in initial ways, these
frameworks provide only limited, and sometimes profoundly misleading,
approaches to the realities of intercultural communication online. While
new, more comprehensive frameworks and approaches are being developed
(e.g. by Cantoni et al.) that promise to offer us better understanding of
online intercultural communication – and thus, of how we can shape both
our technologies and their uses to foster the most effective intercultural
communication and e-learning. We have only just begun.
Conclusion: ‘culture’ betwixt and between
We have seen that with regard to intercultural communication online in

general, and intercultural learning online in particular, the role of culture
is both central (contrary to ethnocentric assumptions that one’s own views,
principles, etc., may be universal) and profoundly challenging. Some ini-
tial frameworks – such as Hall and Hofstede – can help at least up to a
point. But they are also limited in important ways: in particular, as provid-
ing us with perhaps five useful cultural dimensions, they thereby omit an
extensive range of additional factors that have been demonstrated to affect
implementation and use of ICTs across diverse cultures. While more recent
approaches (e.g. Cantoni et al.) take up more sophisticated frameworks, we
are nonetheless left with a remarkable ‘theory gap’: despite the clear role
and centrality of cultural factors in intercultural communication online,
including intercultural e-learning. As yet, we cannot point to a theory or set
of theories regarding culture, communication and ICTs that is sufficiently
sophisticated to adequately (much less completely) capture ‘culture’ in ways
that would help us design still more effective online learning environments
and approaches.
In addition, we have seen that the individual learner confounds even
the best efforts at cultural analysis, both because she or he represents a
mélange of diverse cultural and subcultural elements, in varying degrees and
at various times, and because she or he, precisely as facilitated by the com-
municative venues of online learning, is able to construct in, collaboration
with her or his cohorts distinctive new syntheses of diverse cultural elements.
Metaphorically, these new syntheses and amalgams – each a unique

permutation of an expansive range of diverse cultural and subcultural
elements (themselves also in flux) – pop up like mushrooms after a spring
rain: each one theoretically predictable as the outcome of a limited set of
known factors, but wildly prolific in reality, exploding out of our simple
coordinate grids into nearly infinite possible combinations that confound
even the best efforts at analysis. As Spivak has said, ‘No langue-parole or
system-process distinction can catch this play, culture at work. Culture alive
is always on the run, always changeful’ (1999: 356ff.). But Spivak goes on to
say that ‘[t]here is no reason to throw up one’s hands over this’ (ibid). As
the work of Cantoni et al. (2006) and Rogers et al. (2007) suggest, new and
promising approaches to analyzing cultural dimensions of online commu-
nication and learning are emerging. But clearly, much remains to be done,
starting with overcoming the prevailing and stubborn ethnocentric belief
that the technologies, pedagogies and instructional design techniques of
one’s own culture are somehow ‘universal’. As an increasing number of
researchers are starting to make very clear, such an assumption is simply
naı̈ve and inevitably fatal to efforts to exploit ICTs for effective cross-cultural
communication. So, for example, in his study of Chinese vis-à-vis German
website design and user responses, Bucher has pointed out that ‘. . . design
indeed is highly culturally specific and [. . .] universal principles – for
example of website usability – are implausible’ (2004: 425). At the same
time, within the domain of online learning, Chen and Mashhadi point out
that some are beginning to realize that ‘culture itself cannot be objectified
as just another factor to be programmed into designing a distance
learning course’ (Chen & Mashhadi 1998: 10; cited in Rogers et al. 2007:
214).
Online education clearly offers important pedagogical advantages and
opportunities – including the opportunity to engage with ‘the Other’ – that
is, the other human being in the manifold ways in which she or he is not
simply like us, but also irreducibly different from us (e.g. Levinas 1963).
But if we are to successfully exploit these advantages and possibilities, we
must learn to avoid the sorts of failures resulting from naı̈ve ethnocentrism,
including what I have called ‘computer-mediated colonization’ (Ess 2002a).
Such colonization of ‘the Other’ is a matter of attempting to eliminate the
irreducible differences that define the Other as radically distinct from one-
self. We attempt to eliminate these differences by foisting our own values,
beliefs, practices, etc., upon the Other, and thereby remaking him or her in
our image. Such colonization – whether in its well-known historical forms
or its more recent instantiations in online environments, including in the
very design of online learning tools – follows from the ethnocentric insis-
tence (especially on the part of those already politically, economically and
culturally dominant in our world) that our own approaches are universal
rather than culturally relative.
Since the time of the ancient Greeks, people in diverse cultures have
recognized precisely the dangers of such colonization and its affiliated eth-
nocentrism. To overcome ethnocentrism and thereby avoid colonization
requires us to know the Other as ‘the Other’; that is, in ways that recognize,
respect and foster the irreducible differences that define us as distinct from
one another. So far, at least, this is done more easily and directly by encoun-
tering the Other face-to-face – ideally, within his or her cultural context,
rather than our own – so as to minimize the temptation to impose our own
cultural values and practices, as ostensibly ‘universal’ upon the Other. The
critical value of such direct encounters is only reinforced by our increas-
ing recognition of the role of embodiment in our learning, knowing and
enacting our knowledge: from this perspective, we come to know the Other
as a complete human being only by experiencing one another as embod-
ied human beings who are members of specific communities, marked by
specific cultures and subcultures, etc. (cf. Dreyfus 2001).
At the same time, however, our encounters with one another online –
at least with current technologies and applications – often miss much of
the elements of our face-to-face encounters with one another that most
powerfully convey our irreducible differences from one another. That is,
in our offline encounters with one another as embodied beings, the full
difference of the Other is on display, so to speak, for example, through
dress, actions, voice, gesture and the whole suite of behaviours that both
define much of our sense of who we are – and at the same time are culturally
relative. But many, sometimes most, of these elements are eliminated in the
online context, making it easy to presume that ‘the Other’ is indeed more
or less just like us, and hence we need not worry about ethnocentrism and
its attendant dangers.
In this light, we can now see that the 1990s dualisms and enthusiasms
for the disembodied mind in cyberspace raised the dangers of computer-
mediated colonization in two ways. Again, insofar as we ignore culture in
the design and implementation of ICTs and online-learning environments,
and thereby simply assume in a naı̈ve ethnocentrism that our ways are
universal, we will almost inevitably colonize ‘other’ cultures by imposing
our ways. Moreover, insofar as our engagements with one another online
mask or suppress the many ways we represent ourselves as embodied beings
and thereby as irreducibly different from one another, these engagements
thus reduce our sense of the irreducible differences between ourselves
and the Other: in doing so, they make it all the easier to presume, again,
that our ways are universal. That is, this presumption is not as readily or
dramatically challenged in online environments that minimize the forceful
representation of radical difference by the Other as an embodied being:

such interactions thus reinforce the temptation of naı̈ve ethnocentrism to
assume that our ways are indeed universal.
Happily, more recent developments in our understanding of embodiment
further underline the importance of face-to-face encounters to the learn-
ing experience – and thereby promise to help offset the dangers of naı̈ve
ethnocentrism in an immaterial cyberspace. This importance is recognized
in praxis, for example, in the hybrid models of online education that are
increasingly preferred in those contexts where at least one or two face-to-face
meetings per course can be arranged; (Ess 2006; cf. Slater 2002’s discussion
of businesses moving to similar hybrids, so-called ‘clicks and mortar’ compa-
nies – in sharp contrast with the 1990s promised elimination of ‘bricks and
mortar’ [2002: 544]). Moreover, when meeting face-to-face is not an option,
the central importance of encountering the Other as an embodied being
is further apparent, for example, in online learners’ efforts to ‘write the
body back in’ in their virtual encounters with one another (Macfadyen, this
book). Similarly, Lamy has described how online learners find ways to co-
construct with one another ‘perceptual spaces’ that include possibilities of
re-presenting aspects of their embodied selves (forthcoming: 399; cf. 2006,
85ff.). These observations and developments thus speak powerfully against
the Cartesian belief that all we need to know about one another is contained
within a disembodied mind as manifested in a virtual reality. Rather, when
we encounter one another face-to-face – or, absent that option, when we
seek to recreate our embodied selves online – we recognize that dealing with
one another in strong ways is to deal with one another as embodied beings.
And most importantly for our purposes: when we deal with one another as
embodied beings – whether face-to-face and/or in online encounters that
seek in various ways to write in at least some of the sensual elements of
face-to-face meetings – we engage with one another as distinctive human
beings first, not simply as tokens for overly simple and overly generalized
accounts of cultures and subcultures.
Chapter 2
Identity, Gender and Language

in Synchronous Cybercultures: A
Cross-Cultural Study
Charlotte N. Gunawardena
University of New Mexico, USA
Ahmed Idrissi Alami

Purdue University, USA
Gayathri Jayatilleke
Open University of Sri Lanka, Sri Lanka
Fadwa Bouachrine
Al Akhawayn University, Morocco
Introduction
The integration of the internet into contemporary society worldwide has

had a profound impact on the way we communicate, relate to ourselves and
to each other. Different users, depending on various characteristics such as
age, gender, education and sociocultural background, access the internet
for various communication needs such as exchanging e-mails, making new
friends or engaging in a serious discussion. Whatever the goal, users need to
adjust to this new computer-mediated interactive environment, and they do
so either in ways that reveal native cultural values, or reflect the creation of
new cultural norms and conventions. The nature of the tool that mediates
communication impacts and alters their perceptions of the communication
process as well, and how they perceive their social roles. As Joinson (2003)
observes ‘tools are more than just something to make a task easier. They
change your way of thinking, of approaching a task (and indeed the nature
Identity, Gender and Language in Synchronous Cybercultures 31
of the task itself) and can reap unimagined wider social changes’ (2003:
2–3). The development of tools from the early alphabetic and numbering
systems to the new communication technologies has transformed not only
the tasks performed by interacting with them, but also human capabilities.
Vygotsky (1978) referred to this as ‘mediation’ and argued that tools as well
as other people allow for the extension of human capabilities. Cole and
Engeström (2007) observe that artefacts that mediate human activity have
changed. So, how does computer-mediated communication (CMC) with
its ability to provide for both synchronous and asynchronous, text-based
interaction between individuals or groups, across geographical distances
and cultures, impact the communication process?
Ellerman (2007) describes three main approaches to understanding the
impact of CMC on society: (1) the technological determinism approach
(McLuhan 1967), which examines the ways in which technology shapes soci-
ety, but takes little account of social context or individual action; (2) the ‘uses
and gratifications’ approach adopted by social psychologists who examined
human needs first and how technology was adopted to satisfy these needs,
an approach later developed into social information processing perspec-
tives (Walther & Parks 2002) that attempted to understand interpersonal
communication on the internet; and (3) the historical context approach,
which examines the various contexts in which the technology is introduced
and employed, and how technology affects and is, in turn, affected by the
social, technological, and political context (Rowland 1997). The second
and third approaches enable us to examine the psychological and socio-
cultural processes that underpin mediated communication online from the
standpoint of the native cultures of the participants.
This chapter aims at developing our understanding of the sociocultural
processes of synchronous online communication from the perspective of
two different cultural contexts, Morocco and Sri Lanka, in order to draw
implications for the development of learning cultures within online com-
munities. To better understand the sociocultural processes that play a role in
CMC, it is important to examine the informal use of the medium in different
cultural contexts to determine the communication conventions naturally
developed by internet users; in this way, we can begin to understand how
various communities adapt their media-rich communication styles to the
text-oriented medium of the internet. People, when communicating in per-
son, automatically generate meaning through different ways such as dress,
nonverbal behaviour, spatial distance, manner of speaking, etc. However, in
cyberspace, users must depend on other means of creating such nuanced
presentations of themselves, their ideas and even their personalities. We
have chosen, then, to look at two communities, which have high-context
cultures, namely, Morocco and Sri Lanka.
The purpose of the preliminary study discussed in this chapter was to

explore what happens when individuals whose self-images are characterized
by a sense of group identity based on factors such as nationality, ethnicity,
religion, gender, language and socioeconomic status, use the culturally het-
erogeneous and technically ephemeral forums of the internet to pursue
personal communication goals. We undertook the study with the intention
of developing a conceptual framework for the sociocultural environment
of an online community based on the factors that emerge from the com-
munication conventions and processes employed by internet chat users in
Morocco and Sri Lanka. Such a framework would enable us to suggest
implications about the role of learning cultures in the activity of such a
community. In addition, it could provide insight in to how we can design
online environments or learning spaces, which encourage the types of com-
munication we are striving to support, especially when we may be addressing
participants from high-context and/or multilingual cultures.
Study design and context
We adopted a qualitative ethnographic perspective (Merriam 1998) to con-

duct interviews with participants and examine communication conventions,
and grounded theory building (Glaser & Strauss 1967; Strauss & Corbin
1998; Charmaz 2003) to develop the conceptual framework for a sociocul-
tural environment for online communities. Our collaborative study design
involved four researchers who understood the cultural contexts studied and
brought in an interdisciplinary perspective to the study.
Interview questions addressing the purpose of the study were initially
developed by the lead researcher and revised in collaboration with the
co-researchers who also participated in data collection and analysis. Inter-
view questions were translated into Moroccan Arabic, French, Sinhala and
Tamil, and interviews were conducted in these languages and English. The
interdisciplinary nature of the research team, the diverse expertise and cul-
tural knowledge, enabled the conduct of culturally sensitive research, and
culturally appropriate understanding of the issues.
The study was conducted in the Middle Atlas region of Morocco between
September and January 2004, and in small and large towns in Sri Lanka
from February to July 2005. Morocco and Sri Lanka exemplify two very
different cultural contexts. Morocco is an Arab, Berber, Muslim, Mediter-
ranean African country, more recently colonized by the French, speaking
standard Arabic, Moroccan Arabic and Berber and French. Sri Lanka is
a Sinhalese, Tamil and Muslim country, predominantly Buddhist, more
recently colonized by the English, speaking Sinhala, Tamil and English.
Both countries are similar in that they have diverse minority groups with
different languages and religions represented in the population. Interviews
were conducted in internet cafés or cybercafés and university computer labs
in four different locations in the Middle Atlas region of Morocco, and in
the western, southern and eastern part of Sri Lanka, which represented the
ethnic and religious diversity in the population. Participants were predom-
inantly the general public who used internet cafés and university students
who used the internet in campus labs. Although the internet is constantly
growing in popularity in these two countries, many cannot afford comput-
ers and internet connections in their homes, and gather at internet cafés to
use the internet.
We gathered data conducting individual and focus group interviews with
fifty-five adults in Morocco, which included thirty-six males and nineteen
females, and with fifty adults in Sri Lanka, which included thirty-three males
and seventeen females. This study focused primarily on participants who
used chat forums to engage in conversation and build relationships with
people they did not know. In both these countries, fewer women frequented
internet cafés, reflecting social taboos. In Morocco, the café was and still is
the domain of men and this transferred to the concept of the internet café
as well. In Galle, a mid-size, fairly conservative town in Sri Lanka, only one
in ten users was a female.
Culture online
As we began this study, our major challenge was to arrive at a definition of

culture. As Faiola and Matei (2005) have noted, there are two aspects to
be considered: the computer as a mediator in the communication process,
and the people engaged in the communication as persons influenced by a
complex blend of cultural contexts. We wanted to look for a definition that
would incorporate both these elements.
Given the centrality of culture to human life (Vygotsky 1978; Shuter
1990) and subscribing to the view that culture is present in mediated
communication in the language employed and the manner in which com-
munication happens, we felt that it was necessary to adopt an encompassing
definition of culture for describing the two cultural perspectives (Moroccan
and Sri Lankan) in our study. While we will refer to participants in our study
as Moroccan or Sri Lankan, indicating a national context, we believe that
these individuals do not subscribe to a specific, fixed, national culture in the
online context. The bipolar dimensions of nationally held cultural values
put forward by Hofstede (1980, 2001) individualism-collectivism, power
distance, uncertainty avoidance, masculinity-femininity and long-term
orientation, while a useful explanatory framework despite criticisms leveled

at it (Carbaugh 2007; Fougere & Moulettes 2007; Kim 2007) is not an
appropriate framework to describe communication processes in the online
context. For example, although Sri Lankan and Moroccan societies would
be classified in Hofstede’s framework as high-power distance societies,
participants from these countries look to the online medium as a liberating
medium that equalizes status differences, thereby providing them with
a level playing field. Cultural indicators such as social position, age and
authority, personal appearance are relatively weak in the CMC context
(Reid 1995). Therefore, their interactions online will not necessarily
reflect high-power distance communication. Graiouid (2005) takes this
point further by stating that internet chat and discussions are disman-
tling the traditional power structures in Morocco by allowing previously
disenfranchised groups to publicize their concerns.
Ess and Sudweeks (2005) and Ess (this book) support this view by pro-
viding a considered critique of the applicability of Hofstede’s framework to
the online context. The authors note that what interests CMC researchers is
how national, as well as other cultural identities such as ethnicity, youth cul-
ture, gender, etc., interact with intercultural communication online; that is,
removed from the face-to-face setting. Very often those who communicate
online identify with multiple frames of reference. The authors note that
Hofstede’s framework and to a lesser extent Hall’s (1976, 1984) concep-
tualization of culture appear to be limited to national cultural differences
and thus less well-suited for understanding and researching the multiple
cultural differences within nation-states, including the ‘third’ or hybrid
identities that are themselves fostered by the cultural flows facilitated by the
internet and the web.
Despite the criticism, we found Hall’s (1976, 1984) conceptualization of
high context and low context communication styles, and implied indirect
and direct communication styles, useful for analyzing cultural differences in
communication online. In both Moroccan and Sri Lankan cultures, context
is important to understanding a message and its connotations. Many Moroc-
cans and Sri Lankans adopt indirect communication styles in face-to-face
communication. Therefore, Hall’s conceptualization helped us to analyze
if there were changes in communication styles when participants interacted
online, or whether they were using the same communication styles online
as they would use face-to-face.
As we explore how cultural variability plays a role in online communica-
tion, ‘the variation within a culture in terms of situations, individuals and
socioeconomic status may account for as much or more of the variation in
intercultural interpretations of messages as does the difference between the
cultures of the individuals involved’ (Rogers & Steinfatt 1999: 96). Kincaid
(1987) has shown the shortcomings of Western approaches to understand-

ing cultural differences in communication processes. Miike (2000) points
out three important themes that emerge in establishing an Asian paradigm
of communication: relationality, circularity and harmony, with the underly-
ing assumptions that (a) communication takes place in ‘contexts’ of various
relationships; (b) the communicator is both active and passive in multiple
contexts; and (c) mutual adaptation is of central importance as adaptation
is the key to harmonious communication and relationships.
In this regard, it is worthwhile to consider the model developed by Shaw
and Barret-Power (1998), which provides a detailed and precise mapping
of the elements that constitute cultural differences by stressing the impor-
tance of considering the impact of both apparent and less visible aspects
of cultural differences. The model differentiates between two sources of
cultural differences – readily detectable attributes such as age, gender or
national/ethnic origin, and underlying attributes, such as values, perspec-
tives, attitudes, beliefs, conflict resolution styles, socioeconomic and per-
sonal status, education, human capital assets, past work experiences and
personal expectations.
With this understanding of the myriad ways in which cultural variability
can be observed, and interpreted, we tried to come to terms with the com-
plexity of culture online, by defining it from the perspective of the internet
as a culture in its own right, blurring the boundaries between the real and
virtual worlds. Creating and participating in new communities is one of
the primary pleasures people are taking in CMC (Baym 1995). Reid (1995)
notes that the conventions of CMC enable users to weave a web of com-
munication that ties each person into a sociocultural context. ‘This web
of verbal and textual significances that are substitutes for and yet distinct
from the networks of meaning of the wider community binds users into a
common culture whose specialized meanings allow the sharing of imagined
realities’ (1995: 183). Therefore, we adopted the definition of ‘idioculture’
developed by Gary Alan Fine and cited by Cole and Engeström (2007) as
our definition of culture online:
An idioculture is a system of knowledge, beliefs, behaviors, and customs
shared by members of an interacting group to which members can refer
and that serve as the basis of further interaction. Members recognize that
they share experiences, and these experiences can be referred to with the
expectation they will be understood by other members, thus being used
to construct a reality for the participants.
(Fine 1987: 125)
This definition accommodates the idea of culture as a locally emerging
activity system involving a briefer stretch of history (Cole & Engeström
2007), and includes multiple cultural selves and hybrid identities on the
internet that interact with each other cross-culturally to form unique cul-
tures of their own. The definition fits well with the ephemeral, fluid nature
of the internet, which fuels the development of cybercultures, cultures that
emerge among those who use the internet to communicate, developing its
own etiquette, norms, customs, ethics and mythology, just as an idiocul-
ture does. Along with this definition of culture online, we used frameworks
for understanding cultural patterns developed by Sri Lankan researchers
(Disanayaka 1998; Wickramasinghe 1997, 2004), and Moroccan researchers
(Mernissi 1975; Sadiqi 2003; Graiouid 2005; to explore to what extent the
larger sociocultural context of the participants in our study were reflected
in their internet communication.
Emerging conceptual framework
Through the qualitative ethnographic perspective and the inductive theory

generation process employed in the preliminary data analysis, three major
themes were identified to constitute a conceptual framework to explain
the sociocultural context of internet chat users in Morocco and Sri Lanka.
The three themes were identity, gender and language, interacting with
each other in their expression in synchronous chat. Identity is expressed
through language reflecting the gender roles, either real or assumed, in
the online sociocultural context. Three properties emerged related to the
expression of identity. They were trust building, self-disclosure and face
negotiation. Gender differences were observed in the expression of identity,
trust building, self-disclosure and face negotiation. The following sections
discuss these themes in detail.
Identity online
In chat sessions, identity is expressed by asking for the communicator’s ASL

(Age, Sex and Location). Depending on the context, chatters either reveal
their true identity, create a different identity, blend or communicate their
identity using a pseudonym (referred to as an ID) that expresses their true
or imagined character. The chatter uses this information to create an image
about his/her interlocutor. Ahmed stated that the revelation of his identity
depends on the first question. If he feels the chatter is truthful he would give
his real name. On the other hand, Javad noted that it depends if he wants
to play, amuse himself and have fun or attempt a serious communication.
He usually does not give his real identity. Joinson (2003) has observed that
constructing identity through text provides opportunity for people to craft
an identity that exists quite apart from the usual pressures of real life and
impression management.
In both countries, chat is perceived as a playful activity, a form of entertain-
ment, a therapeutic agent and a game that does not require the disclosure of
true identity from the beginning. It is also perceived as an addiction as many
were described as ‘chat addicts’. A participant from Sri Lanka describes the
therapeutic nature of chat:
One of my females advised me to use Chat when I was undergoing a bad
period. She said that chat would help me to boost myself. She told me
how to login and how to reply. She advised me to give a false name. But
I gave my true name; only the first name. I found that most of them use
false names.
Chat addiction is also reported by Graiouid (2005), whose study participants
indicated that chat has become an essential part of life, and like morning
coffee a chat session is necessary to start the day. Others reported parental
concern for the amount of time and money spent in the cybercafés. For
cybercafé owners, chat addicts are good clients since they generally spend
more for their cybernetic journey. Asynchronous forum discussions on a
topic of interest, on the other hand, are regarded as more serious, since they
represent an arena for debating ideas and defending opinions. Therefore,
respondents would feel more comfortable divulging their true credentials
in a forum discussion.
The sociocultural context influences online communication as well as
gets affected by communication in cyberspace and virtual environments.
‘Whereas the Western concept of “self” is based on the individual, the
Moroccan concept of self is based on the Islamic notion of jamaçah “com-
munity/group” and is, thus inherently plural’ (Sadiqi 2003: 65). One aspect
of the collective self is the difficulty that Moroccans have in talking about
themselves in public because it is generally considered in Moroccan society
as ‘lack of modesty’ (2003: 67). Sadiqi notes that the language of intro-
ductions reveals many aspects of a Moroccan’s self. Introductions involve
interplay of cultural, social, situational and identity variables, which range
from sex, local geographical origin, class, setting, participants’ age and self-
interest. Given this sociocultural context it was interesting to observe the
freedom with which many Moroccans played with their identity online.
It appears that of the three elements, age and sex are more important
than location. Hamid gives his real age and sex. ‘If the other person is not
interested in your location, you do not tell’. Giving the location can sometimes
hinder access to chatters. Lal, a Sri Lankan male, noted that although he
wanted to chat with Western females, they would not respond, only women
from the Philippines did.
Cultural and social stereotyping occurs through names, nicknames and

pseudonyms. Mohammed used to have an ID ‘Mohammed’, but decided to
change it because when he entered North American and British chat rooms,
he was accused of terrorism and was verbally assaulted. He feels his new ID
‘green Python’ is attractive enough to gain access to people. Other IDs used
by female participants included: ‘Scarlet’, ‘Diva’ and ‘Tzay’. Sarath, a Sri
Lankan male, noted that to appeal to different audiences, he changes his
identity. As in this instance, disclosing real names that are strongly associated
with a religious, racial or ethnic group could hinder communication online,
whereas a nickname can enable a chatter to stay in an online relationship
and probably build social presence through other means such as ideas, and
taste (Gunawardena et al. 2006). Continual construction and reconstruction
of self-identity requires fluidity during virtual interactions (Khalsa 2007),
and may influence the way self and group identity is perceived during team
interactions in online communities.
Discussing how CMC and cybercafé culture are appropriated by individ-
uals and groups in Morocco, Graiouid (2005) argues that CMC mediates
the construction of cybernetic identities and promotes the rehearsal of
invented social and gender relations. This inventive accommodation of the
internet referred to as ‘virtual hrig’ in Morocco makes computer-mediated
interaction especially through chat and asynchronous discussion groups act
as a contradiction to dominant patriarchal and conservative power struc-
tures. He points out that cyber interaction is contributing to the expansion
of the public sphere in Morocco, and that the construction of ‘cybernetic
identities provides disenfranchised communities with a resistance space to
deal with global exclusion and marginalization’ (2005: 59). In the tradition-
bound, isolated and impoverished village of Ainleuh in Morocco, many
of the women were looking for relationships with foreigners and Moroc-
cans outside their community as a form of escape. Therefore, construction
of identity on the internet and the anonymity afforded by the medium will
pave the way for marginalized individuals to express their ideas freely within
an online community.
Building trust
Identity is closely linked to building trust. Many will not reveal their true
identity until they can trust the other person. From the initial encounter
chatters spend their time trying to determine the trustworthiness of the
other person. Chatters use several techniques to establish the trustwor-
thiness of the other person before revealing their true identity. The most
common trust-building technique is to ask a series of questions in the initial
online contact and ask the same questions again later to determine the
consistency or inconsistency in the answers. Many mentioned time as

an important factor for building trust. This is clear in the technique of
using questions over time and repeating them to establish continuity and
sameness.
If in the same country, chatters give out their mobile phone numbers in
order to verify the trustworthiness of the other. Most respondents prefer
e-mail when the online relationship gets longer and stronger. They feel that
e-mail communication is more ‘serious’ and ‘honest’ than chat. Another
advantage of e-mail is that there is less time pressure to answer immediately.
Some cannot write fast and this can affect the flow of communication and
even the chatter’s interest. Therefore, the speed of writing can be a factor
in establishing trust. The use of mobile phones and e-mail is significant
because it suggests the ways in which chatters view the development of cyber
relationships and how they ‘hierarchize’ the methods of communication:
chatting – low risk and easy to dismiss; e-mail – more personal involving
larger risk; mobile phones – higher risk, requiring a degree of trust.
Self-disclosure
Self-disclosure emerged as a factor related to trust-building and expression
of identity. Many participants indicated that the trustworthiness of the other
is expressed through the disclosure of their private life. They insist on the
importance of personal experiences, intimate problems as well as ideas to
get to know each other better.
Anonymity increases the ability to self-disclose. Joinson (2003) confirms
this finding by citing studies that show that visually anonymous CMC leads
to higher levels of self-disclosure. Where there is an unequal distribution
of power in society, such as in Sri Lanka and Morocco, online communica-
tion equalizes participants. Respondents felt that talking online can break
barriers to communication between people of different classes, professions
and sexes. Anonymity also encourages relationships that are superficial. A
male participant noted that it is not necessary to reveal the truth, because
he does not have an intention of continuing the friendship. When trust is
established, participants are more likely to reveal their true identity.
Face negotiation
Face is an identity phenomenon. Ting-Toomey (1994) defines face as ‘the
presentation of a civilized front to another individual within the webs of
interconnected relationships in a particular culture’ (1994: 1). For our
study, we defined face as an individual’s claimed conception of his/her pos-
itive self-image within interpersonal online interactions. Face negotiation
was defined as the individual’s intentions to portray his/her self-image

in a positive manner to others by utilizing verbal, nonverbal and
self-representation methods to support his/her conception of face.
In online chat sessions, the nature of the relationship determines reac-
tions to insults and the negotiation of face. Chatters will close the window
if the relationship is weak, and employ a variety of techniques to resolve
misunderstandings and negotiate face if the relationship is stronger. A 35-
year-old Sri Lankan male respondent observed:
It depends on the friendship. If the friendship is new then you are not
bothered. If the friendship is deep then you feel that the person is next
to you. In that instance you would like to continue the friendship.
Generally, many respondents would first seek an explanation and then

decide on other courses of action, such as shutting down the communi-
cation, ignoring the person, insulting back, or asking for an apology. An
apology is requested if the person or the relationship is valued. E-mail is
resorted to in order to clarify the situation, settle misunderstandings and
present apologies. E-mail is preferable if the relationship has been going
on for a long time and if the insulted person thinks that it is not intentional
but is the result of a misunderstanding.
According to Oetzel et al. (2000), three distinct factors are consistent with
categorizations of face concerns in face negotiation: (1) dominating face
work behaviour; (2) avoiding face work behaviour and; (3) integrating face
work behaviour. The first factor, dominating face work behaviour, empha-
sizes the importance of asserting and defending one’s face or self-interest
with the use of direct tactics to threaten the other party’s face in order to
defeat the other person for self-gain. This behaviour is seen in individuals
who are aggressively trying to ‘win the conflict’ and do not care about the
other’s face. The second factor, avoiding face work behaviour, emphasizes
obliging or saving the face of the other party involved in the conflict in
order not to embarrass the other person’s face directly. This behaviour is
seen in individuals who do not want to deal directly with the conflict, or are
concerned with maintaining relational harmony. The third factor, integrat-
ing face work behaviour, emphasizes a mutual concern for both self-face
and other-face by compromising or discussing the conflict in private. This
behaviour is seen in individuals who are interested in maintaining self-
and other-face while dealing directly with the conflict in a private setting.
Gunawardena et al. (2002) supported these categorizations for the online
context from their research with ethnically diverse participants.
The ability to confront people and read their faces is not possible while
chatting unless there is a camera. In Morocco and Sri Lanka, face-to-face
communication patterns are more high context and less direct than in the
United States. It is generally difficult to communicate context in the online
medium. In Morocco, for example, there are many taboos and behaviours
that imply ‘hchouma’ or ‘shame’, and which thus should be avoided dur-
ing communication. Many questions do not get answered because chatters
cannot be very direct and tell them to the face of the other. This opens up
room for interpretation and sometimes miscommunication. Sadiqi (2003)
observes that the concept of collective self is so deep in the Moroccan psyche
that an individual’s self-image is not cultivated internally, but derives from
others’ opinions and attitudes, which is manifested clearly in the concept
of ‘hchouma’, which may be defined as the ‘fear of losing face in front of
others’ (2003: 67). This explains the heavy pressure within the Moroccan
family to protect all its members because bad behaviour from one member
affects the reputation of all. To avoid ‘shame’ Moroccans may refrain from
admitting blatant realities in public if they involve a loss of face.
According to Ting-Toomey (1988), low-context cultures emphasize indi-
vidual identity, self-face concern, and direct verbal and nonverbal expres-
sion. In contrast, high-context cultures emphasize group identity, other-
face concern, and indirect verbal and nonverbal expression. However when
online, whether a person is from a high-context or from a low-context cul-
ture does not matter, as anonymity is a factor in the attempt to negotiate
face. The elimination of title, gender and other status cues can create a
more neutral atmosphere. If the person who threatens face is a stranger, he
or she will be ignored.
Therefore, attempts to negotiate face depend on the strength of the
relationship that has been built. Face-saving strategies are adopted when
there is a bond and when there is an interest in maintaining the relationship.
If not, in the real-time world of chat, the general tendency is to close the
window and forget the person.
Gender online
The results of our analyses indicated that men and women employ different
communication styles when chatting. Men and women value different forms
of communication and different kinds of online interactions. The online
environment gives them the anonymity and freedom to act out gender roles
and experiment with gender identity.
Graiouid (2005) observes that in order to understand reconstruction of
gender relations on the internet, it is important to consider the norms
that rule the distribution of space in Moroccan society. In Moroccan soci-
ety, interaction between men and women is produced and reconstructed
through a hierarchical mapping of space. Citing the work of Mernissi
(1975), Graiouid points out how this gender divide is institutionalized

through a strict definition of spatial practices: ‘(strict) space boundaries
divide Moroccan society into subuniverses: the universe of men, the Umma
(nation) universe of religion and power and the universe of sexuality and the
family’ (Mernissi 1975: 81). Sadiqi (2003) affirms this dichotomy between
public and private space in Morocco, where public space is the street and
the market place, the domain of men, and private space is the home, where
women live. In general, though women have access to public spaces, step-
ping out into the street is still felt by many as an act of trespassing into a
hostile male domain. Sadiqi further elaborates that Moroccan culture is of
a type that strongly constrains the behaviour of men and women and lists
eight influences on gender perception, gender subversion and language
use: (1) history (2) geography (3) Islam (4) morality (5) multilingualism
(6) social organization (7) economic status and (8) political system. Given
this sociocultural context, internet communication provides a tremendous
opportunity to create virtual identities that can breach the dichotomy of
public and private space that exists in Moroccan society. Graiouid (2005)
notes that this may explain why female chatters enjoy the anonymity of the
World Wide Web, which allows them to build relationships without compro-
mising themselves.
Gender stereotypes prevail in the creation of identity as reflected in the
following perspectives from Moroccan participants. Jamal admits that it is
easy to disguise himself as a woman. He tries to describe the experience
of a woman chatting with a man but thinks that the experience is bound
to be short-lived. In posing as a woman, he talks about women’s topics
such as dress and fashion. Hamid thinks that women rarely discuss social
issues. They are mostly interested in personal experiences, and love affairs.
When asked about how he can tell if a man is posing as a woman, he says
that exaggeration is what gives away a man posing as a woman. For example,
somebody you have known for a short time saying that ‘they cannot live without
you or that they love you’ is likely to be male. Hassan thinks that women tend
to discuss their daily schedules and errands more than men. He thinks that
chat is like a game that could turn into a healthy relationship or end quickly.
Analysis of interviews from Sri Lanka also indicated gender differences in
the expression of identity. Generally males disclose their true ASL identity
from the start, irrespective of the purpose of the communication (chat or
academic forums). A 23-year-old male student observed:
I’ll tell that I am a webmaster from Sri Lanka and this is my website. I
also tell my age and gender. Usually when males get to know that I am
a male, they won’t continue. But if someone is interested in my research
area then they will continue. Usually chatting among males is less. But
females prefer to chat with females.
Sri Lankan females are much more cautious than males. They do not reveal
their true identity in unknown communities. They either give only the
first name or use a pseudonym and do not reveal much personal informa-
tion. Once they establish the relationship then they will talk more about
their personal lives. On the other hand, if females are chatting to get
academic help, then, they reveal their true identity. A 34-year-old female
responded:
I give my name, interests and field. Don’t say the age and location. If I
want to get information then I give the name of the institution. If they ask
personal information, then, I ignore those and if that person is a difficult
one, then block the use.
A majority of females prefer to communicate only with females. They are

reluctant to talk with unknown male counterparts unless they have been
introduced by one of their friends or relations, reflecting social norms
and practices. Most of them chat with local and Asian communities, as
they feel more secure communicating with them. A 26-year-old female
observed:
I will reveal about myself; true name, country, my age and sex. I usually log
on to the Asian countries’ chatting rooms. I feel that it is not dangerous
to chat with the Asians and I feel that they are not bad compared to other
western countries. So I will reveal my own identity.
Gender differences emerged in establishing social presence. Many felt that

you need to choose adequate and suitable topics when talking with someone
of the opposite sex. Tone is also important. Male participants claim that they
do not talk in the same way to males and females. With females they are
more cautious and more flattering. As to communicating with females,
most respondents suggest that they depend on establishing social presence
by asking about tastes in music, movies, reading, sports and dress styles. They
feel that women tend to communicate their presence through description
of their daily lives and their personal problems. When males chat with other
males, subjects of discussion tend to be about political, social and abstract
problems.
Preferences for chat partners differed. Moroccan men were mostly inter-
ested in chatting with Western girls, and Moroccan women were mostly inter-
ested in men outside Morocco, predominantly Europe. Graiouid (2005)
points out that the negative image Moroccan female chat users have of
Moroccan males partly accounts for their interests in correspondents from
other countries. Female informants in his study, consider Moroccan male
chat users to be poorly conversant with the etiquette of interaction and
discussion. In general, they hold against them a lack of genuine commit-

ment to the virtual relationships they start and a general absence of tact and
sensitivity. Graiouid (2005) presents further insights on this issue from his
cybercafé research in Morocco. He notes that while European chat rooms
where males and females inter-mingle freely are very popular with Moroc-
cans, most of his female informants stated that they are also regulars at
www.arabia.com because it is the congregation site for Arabs from different
geographic locations. According to his informants, Moroccan female chat
users prefer cybernetic correspondence with fellow Muslims from Europe
or North America, because in case the virtual interaction develops into
a more serious relationship it would be ethically viable and socially more
acceptable for them to wed a Muslim. This is why most of them prefer not
to commit to a correspondence when the user’s identity does not corre-
spond to the profile they seek. He further discusses his visit to a cybercafé
located near a mosque in Rabat, the capital city of Morocco, where at the
call for prayer, chatters exit the ‘profane’ World Wide Web and cross over
to the sacred realm of the mosque. These examples indicate that while the
invention of identity and openness of communication in synchronous chats
can be a liberating experience, there is still the underlying influence of
sociocultural norms and conventions in traditional society, which the chat
communicants find difficult to overcome.
Unlike the Moroccans who sought European chat rooms in this study,
many Sri Lankan men and women spent their time chatting with the oppo-
site sex within the same country. A Sri Lankan male noted that he prefers
to discuss his personal problems with females, as they are apt to give bet-
ter advice than a male. Sri Lankans reported less chatting among males,
whereas females prefer to chat with females.
These findings indicate differences in the ways men and women inter-
act online. Women and men do exhibit different styles in posting to the
internet, contrary to the claim that CMC neutralizes distinctions of gender.
Gender and self-disclosure

When trust is established, participants are more likely to reveal their true
identity. Generally, both females and males have reservations when reveal-
ing their personal details to an unknown group of people. Both do not
reveal their personal information till they build up their relationship. Build-
ing up this relationship takes time with several messages (sometimes about
3 months). The basis is mere instinct, the ‘feeling’ that they get from reading
messages, the ‘feel’ of the other or ‘social presence’ in mediated communi-
cation. Once they feel that the person is ‘genuine’ then they start revealing
their personal details. A 23-year-old female observed:
If I feel that this person is a genuine person and could be trusted then I
reveal myself. I prefer if that person is open with me.
Females are very cautious of the way they write and also expect respect from
others. Manel, a 27-year-old female observed:
Yes, I am very cautious. I won’t reveal my personal information. I think

twice and write. It’s too much effort from my part to write answers like
this and is an additional burden for me.
Sri Lankan women were not comfortable with self-disclosure, hardly ever
divulging information on private life in a chat session. Ramani, a 34-year-old
Sri Lankan female responded:
Some ask unnecessary questions – comment on your figure, mention

about body parts etc. We are not used to those. It’s our culture. I know
this is normal to the rest of the world. So I take precautions and tell them
that I am not that sort of lady. Let them respect us as well.
Some males do not hesitate to place their own photograph on the web.
One particular male uses different font sizes and colours to make it more
attractive: ‘ I use a webcam and give a profile with the picture. I usually use
14–16 font with shaded colors’. Females hardly ever send their photographs.
But some who are familiar with computers use different fonts, colours and
emoticons (smileys) when they send messages. ‘I use emoticons. Those are
quick. Use font like comic sans for friends and Arial and Centre Gothic
with official group. Use short cuts like Y, U, etc. Different techniques for
different people’. Chat users have developed various conventions to present
their identity and persona in chat sessions and will reveal their true identity
depending on the context.
Gender and face negotiation

Herring (1994) illustrates gender differences in face negotiation from her
study sample. The female style takes into consideration the ‘face’ wants of
the addressee – specifically, the desire of the addressee to feel ratified and
liked (e.g. by expressions of appreciation) and her desire not to be imposed
upon (e.g. by absolute assertions that don’t allow alternative views). The
male style, in contrast, confronts and threatens the addressee’s ‘face’ in the
process of engaging him in agonistic debate.
Both female and male respondents in our study noted that they take
extra care to resolve their online misunderstandings and negotiate face if
the relationship is strong. If they fail online, they will telephone and explain
the situation. Females are more likely to negotiate even when the relation-
ship is not that strong. Usually males chat for entertainment and they do
not expect long-lasting relationships online. Therefore, when there is a mis-
understanding and misinterpretation, they do not make an extra attempt
to resolve the conflict. On the other hand, females make the extra effort
to resolve the misunderstanding. Davidson and Schofield (2002) support
this finding by citing research on virtual interactions that indicates women
are more relational than men – women are more likely to approach the
world as an individual within a social network; more likely to acquire skills
in developing and sustaining personal connections and more likely to seek
out situations and develop behaviours that foster relationships.
Gender and online harassment

Harassment online emerged as an issue of concern related to gender and
the expression of identity. A female Moroccan participant described how
she used to give her true credentials at first and got into trouble, and then
changed her approach and started to claim a different identity (that of a
French girl) when she entered chat rooms in order to avoid being harassed.
Another female Moroccan participant noted that she used to present herself
by giving her real name and real information. Then a friend told her how
stupid that is, ‘because it is different, a man can feel alright about giving his real
information but a woman can’t’. Because she is a girl, she now asks chatters
to guess her name. If the chatter is from Europe or America she gives
him her real name, but not if he is from Morocco. Women tend to hide
their identities more because they will be targeted by chatters and harassed.
Females were more cautious than males in revealing their identity online for
fear of being harassed. This is a cultural feature of online communication
that transcends nationality. Harassment online is a serious concern not only
for women but also for children.
The language of chat
Innovations in language forms to adapt to communication via chat was one

of the most interesting findings of this study. While the predominant lan-
guage of chat in Morocco was French and in Sri Lanka, English, participants
interjected the native language using the Latin keyboard to increase their
level of social presence and connectedness when they were chatting with
people who understood the native language.
Moroccan Arabic is an oral language and its transliteration into the
Latin script enabled participants to express their affective, emotional self
to connect with the other through text-based communication. Hassan said

he could convey his true feelings by using Moroccan Arabic expressions
when the other party knows the language. Examples of Moroccan Arabic
written in Latin script in chat sessions and in text messaging (SMS) follow:
(1) MNIN DEFNOU’H MA ZA’ROU’H (‘Since they buried him, they

forgot about him’) an expression that means, ‘After you used me,
you forgot me’. This is a common expression written in numbers
(3, 7, 9), which carries a similar meaning to: ‘Why have you not
kept in touch with me?’
(2) Numbers used to express Arabic characters and sounds
3 → (ain)
9 → (kah)
8 → (hah).
(3) Salam 3alikoum! (Greeting).
These examples show conventions that chatters have adopted for chat and
SMS to express cultural understanding in written form through the creation
of commonly understood ways of symbolizing social and emotional meaning
and contexts. As Sadiqi (2003) observes, orality is an important component
of Moroccan culture; speech carries greater significance than writing in
regulating everyday life, as communication is mainly channelized through
unwritten languages. Chatters have therefore developed conventions to
express the nuances of unwritten languages in a written medium.
Mounia chats in English and French and switches to French when she
gets angry. She does not insult in English but responds in French. She feels
that insulting in Moroccan Arabic is ‘low’ and despicable, but insulting in
French is acceptable. Many who were fluent in French and Moroccan Arabic
indicated that French would be the language to use for insults as insulting in
Arabic would lower their status. For Mustapha, changing languages would
mean that he is weak and afraid, so he would continue in the same language.
Khalid sometimes uses Moroccan Arabic because expressions are shorter
than French. For example, ‘how are you?’ in Arabic is ‘ki dayer?’ Chatters
mix both French, a written language and Moroccan Arabic and an oral lan-
guage if their communicants understand both languages. These are exam-
ples of code-switching, which is a common practice in a multilingual society
like Morocco. ‘Code-switching is the use of more than one, usually two, lan-
guages or “codes” simultaneously’ (Sadiqi 2003: 258). Both men and women
use code-switching in their everyday conversations in Morocco, but code-
switching is more associated with women than with men. Sadiqi observes
that code-switching indicates social attributes and composite identities.
The switching of Berber and Moroccan Arabic is both a rural and an urban
phenomenon and involves literate and nonliterate speakers as Moroccan
Arabic and Berber are nonwritten mother tongues, whereas switching of
Moroccan Arabic and French, and switching of Berber and French are
typically urban and involve educated speakers only. While the switching
of Berber and Moroccan Arabic is seen in all social classes, switching of
Moroccan Arabic and French is more characteristic of middle and upper
classes.
Similar innovations in the use of native languages via the Latin keyboard
were observed in Sri Lanka. In Sri Lanka, the predominant chat language is
English for the Sinhalese, Tamils and Muslims. In Sri Lanka, the variety of
English spoken is different from that spoken in Britain and other parts of
the world because of the influences the native languages have exerted on
the structure of English (Disanayaka 1998). Chatters often communicate by
writing their native language using the English alphabet. Sinhala and Tamil
are phonetic languages, which can be written using the English alphabet
and Latin keyboard. Perhaps the technique the chatters have adopted to
transliterate their native language using the English alphabet and the Latin
keyboard maybe one way to solve the language problem in Sri Lanka. Both
Sinhala and Tamil chatters can learn about each other’s language without
having to learn a new alphabet and a new script if they are able to write their
language in English. Sri Lankans also used code-switching, the mixture of
English and Sinhala, for example. Ramani explained that writing in Sinhala
generates more feeling than writing in English.
Examples of Sinhala written in English include:

(1) Ayubowan – How are you?
(2) Paw – I feel sorry for you
Examples of Tamil written in English include:
Aniyayam – what a waste!
Sri Lankans also felt that phrases such as ‘machan’, which means ‘buddy’
when written in English, generate closeness and social presence.
The level of language and the quality of opinions help chatters in Morocco
build each other’s profiles. Kenza relies on language (idiomatic expressions
such as the ones associated with native French speakers) to generate social
presence. Abdelali examines the English used by chatters and the amount
of mistakes made, especially if the person claims to be from an English-
speaking country such as the UK or USA. In this case, the level and type of
language use can be a factor in creating credibility.
Chatters enhance their social presence by using other media such as
mobile phones and webcams. It was fairly common to see chatters talking
to the same person on the mobile phone while chatting online. Some
Moroccans spoke Arabic on the mobile phone and French online indicating
their versatility in moving between different languages. The use of the two
types of media enhanced their presence and connection with each other.
Some chatters used emoticons (icons that express emotion) or smileys to
enhance their presence and express their emotions. Others stated that they
use text to express their emotions. Hamid expresses his persona through
icons. He is very interested in showing that he is a man and that he is
Moroccan, and that in Morocco the man is the one who decides for the
woman. When asked if women continue to keep talking to him after this
admission, he said that they keep on the discussion to know more about his
perspectives and that it is a good way to exchange cultural aspects about
the topic.
In analyzing communication conventions online, it is evident that chatters
have developed unique forms of textual language and visual expressions to
communicate their ideas and feelings through a new medium. They bring
with them the conventions of their native language, which embody cultural
traits as well as their prior use of the second language, English or French.
‘Language and culture develop together. Language is an essential part of
culture’ (Wickramasinghe 1997: 25). This implies that as online learning
cultures develop, students and facilitators will have to adjust to new modes
of communication and interaction. Since language is an important factor
in the negotiation of meaning in an online community, it is important
to develop theoretical models of language to guide future practice (Tust-
ing 2005). ‘An important step towards cross-cultural understanding could
therefore be the development of policies and practices which allow for an
element of multi-lingual communication, making space for the expression
of social behavior free of the constraints of operating in a second language’
(Goodfellow et al. 2001: 80).
Implications for online learning communities
We now address the implications we can draw from these findings of infor-
mal synchronous communication within two different cultural contexts for
the development of online learning communities. We found that CMC is
not a mere neutral technological innovation but a practice that is affected
by the culture and society of its users. As discussed earlier, we used the
definition of ‘idioculture’, developed by Fine (cited in Cole & Engeström
2007) as a system of knowledge, beliefs, behaviours and customs shared
by members of an interacting group to which members can refer and that
serve as the basis of further interaction, as a framework for examining
culture online. This definition enabled us to examine online culture as a

unique phenomenon in its own right. Three themes emerged from the
data analysis: identity, gender and language, interacting with each other
in their expression in synchronous chat. Given the unique online cultures
developed by interacting groups, and the themes that emerged, we draw
the following implications for learning cultures.
1. The creation of identity and playing with identity online enables a

participant to learn about herself/himself. It is a psychological tool
that enables one to experience the real world in a new way. The ability
to change one’s environment and try out different ways of being will
lend itself well to role play and computer simulations as favoured
learning methods in online learning communities.
2. Expression of identity through introductions is important for relation-
ship building in online learning communities. However, self-disclosure
may not be easy for some participants. Since identity is expressed in
different ways by diverse individuals, careful attention must be given
to how self-presentation and introductions are done online. There-
fore, rather than making self-introductions an open-ended activity,
guidelines and protocols should be provided for how introductions
should be done, and the type of information desired, also allowing
for some degree of anonymity. An alternative technique might be to
have participants introduce each other online, rather than themselves.
Introductions also assist in the building of social presence, or the feel-
ing that the other is a real person, when communication is mediated
by the computer.
3. Since posting photographs with introductions can lead to stereotyping
and reduce the anonymity that will make a learning community a level
playing field, it is important to devise other means of self-disclosure,
especially to provide a comfort zone for women who are more reluc-
tant to self-disclose to an unknown community, and to maintain social
equality of the group. For example, participants could be asked to post
a picture or image that represents them, with an explanation as to why
the picture/image represents them.
4. Building trust and relationships are crucial for the health and well-
being of a learning community. Trust-building group activities should
be conducted during pre-course activities or during the first 2 weeks
of an academic course to help participants build trust and become
comfortable with each other.
5. Attempts to negotiate face and resolve conflict depends on the strength
of the relationship that has been built. Therefore, face-saving strategies
should be part of the communication protocols developed for online
learning communities. Learners should be encouraged to use e-mail

to resolve misunderstandings and post mutually agreed-upon under-
standings for the group when conflict situations arise. Women are more
likely to make an attempt to resolve misunderstandings and negotiate
face and should be encouraged to take up moderating roles in team
interactions.
6. Communication protocols developed for online learning communities
need to alert participants to gender differences in communication
patterns.
7. Context is important to understanding messages and therefore par-
ticipants should be encouraged to provide the context to enable the
deciphering of messages communicated through an ephemeral and
fluid medium.
8. Moderators or facilitators play an important role in relationship build-
ing and community-building activities, and in maintaining a safe and
conducive environment for all participants, and therefore, should be
present online frequently.
9. It is recommended that online designs allow for an element of mul-
tilingual communication, and diversity, in the expression of English.
This will promote cross-cultural understanding and a comfort zone in
online communication.
10. In many developing countries, the internet café maybe the only
resource centre where learners will gather to participate in online
learning. Academic institutions wishing to provide access to learners
in geographically isolated locations should make arrangements with
internet cafés to provide technology access and resources necessary
for their academic programs.
These implications and guidelines will hopefully lead to the design of online
learning environments that foster community and knowledge building.
Issues of identity, gender and language will continue to provide impetus
for further research in our efforts to understand the learning cultures that
develop in these environments.
Acknowledgment
This research study was supported by a Fulbright Regional Research Schol-

arship awarded to the principal author by the United States Department of
State, 2004–2005.
Chapter 3
Entering the World of Online

Foreign Language Education:
Challenging and Developing
Teacher Identities
Robert O’Dowd
University of León, Spain
Introduction
Tools of online communication have been used widely in the field of foreign
language education due to their capacity to engage learners in authentic
intercultural communication with members of other cultures (Belz 2003;
O’Dowd 2007), and also due to their ability to facilitate collaborative project
work and student publishing. In general, attitudes to the integration of such
online activity in the world of foreign language education have been (in
Western societies, at least) very positive and teachers who take part in such
online activity are generally portrayed as innovative and progressive (Hides
2005).
These positive attitudes have often been accompanied by the assump-
tion that language-learning activity online is by nature communicative and
learner-centred. This belief stems perhaps from the discourse of Network
Based Language Teaching (NBLT), which, as is the case of e-learning in
general, is generally located within sociocultural and social constructivist
approaches to learning and thereby lays great emphasis on learner-centred
learning and on active participation of the learner in online communities
(Warschauer & Kern 2000; Oliver et al. 2007).
While we would argue that the learner-centred approaches to learning
promoted by researchers and educators are essentially positive, we would
also suggest that this trend has been at the cost of developing a deeper
understanding of the experiences of the teacher in online environments,
Entering the World of Online Foreign Language Education 53
with the online teacher being described in very general terms such as a
‘guide on the side’ or ‘a facilitator of knowledge rather than the font of wis-
dom’ (Warschauer & Healey 1998: 57)’. Laurillard confirms this emphasis
on the learner in her introduction to a publication on e-learning in Higher
Education:
Whatever their original discipline, the most eminent writers on learn-

ing have emphasized the importance of active learning. The choice of
language may vary – [. . .] Piaget’s constructivism, Vygotsky’s social con-
structivism [. . .] – but the shared essence is the recognition that learning concerns
what the learner is doing rather than what the teacher is doing.
(Laurillard, 2005: 2–3, our italics)
Against this backdrop, we would argue that it now becomes particularly

important to engage in research which looks not only at how teachers
are coming to terms with the tools and practices of online education (see
Egbert et al. 2002), but also at how they deal with the prevalent ‘didactic
culture’ (i.e. pedagogical beliefs and discourse), which permeates online
learning and which is often employed in the design of online learning tools
(Dyke et al. 2007). While so-called ‘innovators’ may have taken relatively
quickly to the practices and pedagogies of online education, many other
educators have found themselves entering this new world of learning and
teaching, not out of conviction or desire but rather due to the social or
institutional pressure to engage in an activity which is seen as inherently
positive and progressive. Furthermore, these educators have at times found
themselves in situations where widely held assumptions about the nature
and the practices of online activity have clashed with their own beliefs about
how learning takes place and how students learn. The question arises as to
what will be the outcomes of online learning activity where the beliefs and
practices of teachers do not reflect the common practices of online learning
and its accompanying discourse and pedagogy.
This chapter begins by exploring how the prevalent didactic culture of
social constructivism has been represented in the design of Moodle, a pop-
ular Virtual Learning Environment (VLE). This educational tool allows
teachers to create a location on the internet where a class of learners can
view course materials, interact and collaborate with classmates and their
teacher using synchronous and asynchronous tools, access reference mate-
rials and engage in interactive activities (Franklin & Peat 2001; Cole 2005).
Following that, Layder’s (1993) research map for social realism is used to
examine how three educators at a university in Spain employed the plat-
form, what significance its use had for them as professional educators, and,
most significantly, how they dealt with similarities and differences between
their own approaches to learning and teaching and that of the pervasive
culture of online learning. The three case studies illustrate how the culture
of online learning and teaching that surrounds many online learning arte-
facts is limited or shaped by the social and institutional contexts in which the
tools are located, as well as by the dispositions and agency of the individuals
involved.
Didactic culture in online foreign language education
Despite its origins and development in the United States and Western
Europe, the internet has often been thought of as a culture-free environ-
ment, which can be exploited by all those who have the economic and
literacy resources available to them to do so. However, as early as 2000,
writers such as Hawisher and Selfe had questioned the accuracy of this per-
ception and had highlighted how this utopian vision of the web is closely
related to the North American image of the global village (2000: 6–7). The
authors describe how this concept of the global village originated in the time
of the telegraph and depicts technology as a tool for establishing a global
network, which erases difference between cultures and establishes a sense of
international community and union. The authors are unconvinced by this
interpretation, suggesting that many cultures are likely to see the extension
of these technologies as ‘less a neutral and welcome medium for global
communication than a disturbing and unwelcome system for broadening
western colonial culture and values’ (2000: 9).
As researchers have moved away from the assumption that the internet
somehow removes or suppresses cultural difference, a growing number of
publications (in particular special issues of journals such as the Journal of
Computer-Mediated Communication (volume 11, page 1) and the British Journal
of Educational Technology (volume 30, page 3), have looked more critically
at the interaction that takes place between online cultural norms and the
educational cultures in which learners are operating.
In this interpretation of online learning, online learning tools are seen
to have their own culturally determined etiquettes of use, which has been
heavily influenced by Anglo-American values and norms of communica-
tion. This culture of online behaviour is based on the principles of speed
(i.e. quick responses to interaction), openness (as opposed to privacy),
debate and informality (Reeder et al. 2004) and it is argued that online cul-
tural behaviour will be constructed through the interaction of these online
norms with those of the learning and teaching cultures in which individuals
are operating in their local educational institutions. For example, Thorne
(2003) found that communication tools such as e-mail or instant messag-
ing were not neutral educational objects but rather carried certain cultural
associations and characteristics that they have acquired from their use in
everyday life in specific cultural contexts. Thorne took the example of

the use of e-mail in an online intercultural exchange between an North
American and a French student and explained how the project failed to
gather momentum as neither student saw e-mail as an appropriate tool
for exchanging informal messages with partners of their own age. E-mail,
according to the North American student in the study, was suitable for
more formal communication between students and teachers, while student-
to-student communication was considered more suited to tools such as
Microsoft MessengerTM .
As VLEs have achieved great popularity among online educators, their
relationship with online culture and online didactic culture has taken
on particular relevance. Along with Blackboard and WebCT, Moodle has
become one of the most popular examples of these tools in educational
institutions around the globe. Evidence of this success can be found in the
statistics provided by the Moodle homepage and elsewhere (Cole 2005).
Moodle’s authors report, for example, that there are over 24,000 registered
institutions using the platform in their classes. These institutions are located
in 175 countries and are offering courses in 75 different languages. In Spain,
the country where this study was carried out, over 1,300 schools and univer-
sities are using Moodle, and many Spanish universities have taken the step of
adapting Moodle as the official institutional platform of use (Molist 2006).
The principal difference between Moodle and other platforms (e.g.
WebCT or First ClassTM ) is that its authors lay claim to a particular didactic
philosophy and culture, which they refer to as ‘socioconstructionist’ ped-
agogy. This theory of learning has much in common with other student-
centred approaches, which have been used to orientate the integration
of online technologies into education such as ‘active learning’ (Laurillard
2005), ‘collaborative and social-interactive learning’ (Kramsch & Thorne
2002) or ‘social constructivist learning’ (Parks et al. 2003). (As it is this
final term which has become most widespread in the literature, this will be
the one used from now on.) Based on the sociocultural theory of Vygotksy
(1978), these approaches involve a shift from a cognitive to a social per-
spective on education and see learning being achieved most successfully
when learners are actively engaged in meaningful collaborative project work
and problem solving with their classmates and other more capable peers
(Windschitl 2002; Felix 2005).
Moodle does indeed carry a great many functions, which can, in princi-
ple at least, be used to support student interaction, collaboration and the
construction of shared artefacts. The platform offers teachers the possibil-
ity of introducing communicative functions such as synchronous chat and
asynchronous discussion forums and also includes tools, which enable collabo-
ration and evaluation of documents such as the wiki and workshop functions.
We would argue that the presence of such a wide variety of communica-

tive and collaborative tools, in combination with the platform’s statement
of didactic principles and the location of this discourse within the perva-
sive discourse of online education with its emphasis on socioconstructivist
learning practices, may act as an indirect pressure on teachers to use the
VLE in this way. However, in order to identify whether Moodle is actually
used in this fashion in a particular educational context, it will be necessary
to situate the online learning activity within the broader socioinstitutional
context. Factors such as the pedagogical approach of the teachers using
the platform and the social and educational culture within which they are
operating are likely to determine how the VLE is employed and what the
outcomes of this learning activity are (Warschauer 2003). In the following
section, a research methodology is presented, which serves to highlight this
interconnectedness between the activity of using a VLE, social and institu-
tional contexts and, finally, the aims, beliefs and past experiences of the
teachers involved.
Research methodology
The principal aim of this study was to explore how the teachers’ use of the
online platform was influenced by aspects of their institutional context such
as the educational culture in which they were operating, their own beliefs
about learning in general and about the didactic culture which the platform
(and the discourse surrounding online education in general) generally sup-
port. In order to achieve such an understanding of what online learning
signified in this particular context, Layder’s (1993) research map for social
realism was chosen. This map encourages the researcher to understand
social activity (in this case, the integration of a VLE into a foreign language
department) as being shaped by the complex interaction of both struc-
ture and agency. Structure refers to the macro-cultural context (e.g. societal
attitudes to online technologies) and the local setting (e.g. university admin-
istrative policy in relation to technological innovation), while agency refers
to the situated activity and the individual’s self -identity and social experi-
ences (e.g. the teachers’ pedagogical beliefs and previous experiences of
using technologies). Layder insists that all these elements should be seen
as a whole and that ‘viewing the elements as a series of interwoven layers
is useful since it helps us to understand how social activity is influenced by
different aspects of society at specific points in time’ (1993: 10).
Table 3.1 shows the four categories of Layder’s research map and also
identifies the main themes which were of relevance in each category for this
particular study. The final column identifies sources of the data for each
Table 3.1 A Research Map for Online Learning
Relevant categories Sources of

Description of and themes in this data used in
Category category study this study
Context Macro-social Prevalent attitudes Surveys

(macro- organization and beliefs in the Newspaper
level) Values, traditions, educational reports
forms of social community about
organization and online learning;
power relations online practices in
Spain; use of
technology in Spanish
universities; Spanish
attitudes to using
technology in
education
Setting Intermediate social Approaches to online Survey data
(macro- organization – how learning at local and reports
level) institutions and institution; degree and from the local
bureaucracies are types of institutional educational
organized support for online institution
learning initiatives
Situated Social activity – how The activity of using Teacher
activity the activity is the VLE in the interviews;
(micro- understood, as it is University courses student
level) affected by context surveys;
and settings observations
(above) and of classes and
dispositions of online
individuals (below) practices
Self Self-identity and The teachers and Interviews,
(micro- individual’s social students involved and question-
level) experience their sense of identity; naires,
perceptions of the examples of
world and their beliefs online activity
about (online)
teaching and learning
Source: Adapted from Layder 1993.

of the categories. The data used in the study was principally qualitative but
quantitative statistical data was also employed when relevant. For example,
statistical data about the use of new technologies in Spanish education in
general was combined with in-depth interviews with the teachers at various
stages during the academic year. These interviews were also triangulated
with other sources of data such as observations of contact classes and on-
line activity, teacher questionnaires and the collection and classification of
artefacts such as on-line documents and extracts from on-line interaction.
Context and setting: online technologies in Spain and in the

local institution
In this study the context and setting in which the situated activity of using
Moodle was located included a variety of elements, including the discourse
surrounding online learning in the educational literature, the attitudes
towards online learning of important national and local stakeholders such
as university administrations and national government and, of course, widely
held beliefs among university staff and students as to what online learning
should involve.
The online practices of young Spanish people has an undoubted impor-
tance here as it is this social group that makes up most of the teachers’
classrooms. Recent statistics by www.Red.es – a website run by the Spanish
Ministry of Industry, Tourism and Commerce to inform about online activity
in Spanish society – revealed that only 34 percent report using the internet
for study and research purposes, while a survey carried out among the stu-
dents of the Modern Languages Department as part of this particular study
confirmed this limited take-up of online practices by Spanish students. Here,
a significant minority of students (42 percent) reported not having access
to the internet in their homes while 61 percent of the respondents reported
logging on to the internet only ‘once’ or ‘two or three’ times per week. Fur-
thermore, interviews carried out at the beginning of the university year with
students who would be taking part in Moodle-enhanced courses revealed a
rather traditional image of what on-line learning could and should involve.
One student suggested: ‘I see online platforms as a helpful, back-up tool. It
could be a gate to other online resources and it could contain texts in more
syllabus-heavy subjects’, while another commented: ‘I imagine this could be
a comfortable way of submitting homework without having to go to class
and maybe finding links to new activities and resources’.
In the first decade of the new millennium, in Spain (as in many other
countries), great importance has been attributed to online learning and
the integration of information and communication technologies (ICT)
at university level education. However, the integration of online learning

structures in Spanish campuses remains very much a work in progress,
which often stems from administrative and governmental initiatives rather
than from teacher-initiated activity. For example, an extensive study carried
out on the integration of ICT across the Spanish university system (Barren
& Burillo López 2006) revealed that while universities were clearly investing
heavily in online resources and facilities, the staff uptake of online learning
initiatives remained limited. The study reported, for example, that only
15 percent of university teaching staff had completed training in how to
use ICT in their classes. It also found that while 96 percent of Spanish
universities had an e-learning platform under development, only 43
percent of teachers had reported using platforms in their classes.
Recent developments at the University where this study was carried out
reflect this general national interest in online learning and teaching. For
example, in the 2 years before this study, a new state-of-the-art centre for
information and communication technologies had been established and
wireless internet access had been made available throughout the campus.
The university had also made it possible for students and teachers to carry
out a great deal of course administration online, such as the publishing
of exam results and registration for courses and had introduced its own
e-learning platform, which contained basic administrative and communica-
tive functions. A report published in a daily provincial newspaper highlights
the importance of the development of the University’s online learning ini-
tiatives in the local community, but, significantly, also serves to illustrate
common local perceptions of what online learning might involve. The head-
line ran: ‘The web of a thousand and one uses: The University digitalises
its administrative affairs and next year will include a tool which will enable
teachers to move their class content online’ (González 2005: 3).
It is within these national and local settings (i.e. the context and setting in
Layder’s framework) that the three case studies reported here are located. In
general it is a context where students are gradually becoming more at home
in online environments and where online learning initiatives in education
are highly valued both by society and by university administrations. However,
these high levels of economic investment, ‘top-down’ initiatives and support
are not always reflected in significant increases in online activity by teachers
in their courses. Furthermore, common perceptions of what online learning
should involve tend to refer to new ways of publishing and disseminating
materials (i.e. the publication of collections of links and the transfer of
materials from hard copy to virtual formats) rather than to the development
of new didactic practices.
The department of Modern Languages at this University adopted the
virtual learning environment Moodle in the academic year 2004–2005. The
director of the department encouraged all teaching staff to use the plat-
form in their undergraduate teaching as having an online presence was,
he argued, ‘an important part of the profession’s future’. An introductory
workshop was organized by technical support staff to introduce teachers to
the technicalities of using the Moodle platform, such as how to set up a
course and register students. However, at no stage was staff trained in how
to use the platform pedagogically. During its first year of availability at the
English department in question, the platform was used in a blended format
(i.e. combined with contact classes) by six different teachers for courses in
foreign languages (i.e. French and English) and in various subjects related
to Linguistics and Applied Linguistics. In my role both as researcher and
as someone who had previous experience with the use of VLEs, I took the
opportunity to study in what way three of the teachers used the online plat-
form with their students. The three teachers who chose to use the platform
and to allow me to observe and help in their experiences taught courses in
English for Special Purposes (Isabel), Linguistics (Barbara) and English as
a Foreign Language (Andrew).
The following case studies look at the key issues that arise when the tools
and didactic culture of online learning come into contact with teachers who
form part of this particular socioeducational context.
Case study 1: step-by-step into online learning
Barbara, a teacher of linguistics and grammar, is in her early thirties and

has used technologies such as concordancing software, PowerPointTM and
other Microsoft OfficeTM tools in her classes before. Recorded interviews
and informal discussions with Barbara at the outset and during her first
year using Moodle reveal an interesting range of findings in relation to
why teachers turn to VLEs such as Moodle and the complex interplay of
factors at context, setting and self -levels (see Table 3.1), which determine the
meaning of the situated activity of VLE use.
The first example of the interplay between micro and macro factors from
Table 3.1 emerges from Barbara’s explanations as to why she chose to use
the VLE in her teaching. Beginning at the level of self , Barbara appears
to have opted to introduce Moodle into her classes in order to challenge
herself as a teacher and also as a way of expanding her repertoire of teaching
techniques. She describes her aims in the following way:
I see it as a way of learning more myself, and a way of motivating myself to
renew the content of my courses and above all, the way of teaching this
content. It’s also about wanting to be up-to-date, meeting the challenge
of finding online activities which suit the content of my course . . . this
gives me a certain personal satisfaction.
However, these comments also reflect that, at the context level, incorpo-
rating online activities into one’s teaching in Spain is often associated with
being a ‘modern’ teacher and wanting to improve and develop oneself
professionally. Barbara therefore makes a connection between the situated
activity of integrating an online platform and her own perception of self -
identity of being ‘up-to-date’ and with the process of motivating herself to
renew her course material and to refresh her skills as a teacher. However,
reflecting the common beliefs at the local setting level of what online learn-
ing actually involves (see the previous section), she does not believe that
using the platform will actually affect the way she teaches her course. She
explains, for example, that it is the online activities that have to adapt to
‘suit the content of my course’. The platform, therefore, has the function of
being essentially a new form of delivery of current content and classroom
activities.
Barbara also identifies the potential that Moodle carries for increasing
teacher-student contact and she relates the role of online learning to increas-
ing student participation in general:
The platform obviously improves the opportunities for collaboration both

between students and between teacher and students. I can imagine that it
will also increase their level of motivation and their desire to participate
more in their learning as they will feel more involved, more “the centre of
attention” because the online work strengthens the level of personalized
attention. It’s a more interactive type of learning – they have to do differ-
ent things such as registering and going online in order to get materials.
They may also be more worried about not doing their exercises because
this will be more obvious in the online platform than it would be in class
when we correct exercises as a group.
Here, the situated activity of teaching online takes its meaning firstly from
the context level and the widespread beliefs in the educational community
that online pedagogy calls for learning to be more student-centred and
‘active’. But this belief is filtered by Barbara’s own beliefs and understanding
of what teacher and student roles should involve and, as a result, ‘student-
centred online activity’ is reduced to getting students to ‘log on’ in order
to access material and to obliging them to do activities out of fear of being
shown up in the online platform.
In her courses, Barbara uses essentially three different functions of the
platform. First, she provides students with the PowerPoint presentations,
which have been previously viewed in class. Second, she publishes Word doc-
uments containing exercises based on the content of class work. Finally, she
uses the ‘assignment’ function so that students can upload their completed
worksheets on to the platform for correction. Despite her comments as to
why she intended to use the platform, Barbara does not exploit the commu-
nicative functions of the platform in order to encourage student communi-
cation or to engage in more collaborative activities with the material at hand.
Nevertheless, her evaluation of the platform towards the end of the course
continues to refer to other, possibly more innovative, situated activities:
The advantages of Moodle are enormous. One important aspect is the

quantity of paper and time which it allows us to save: the students do not
have to print out or hand in work in a printed format; neither do they
have to queue up at the photocopy shop in order to get materials. As
well as that, it’s a great tool for “sending them” to useful web pages and
other resources which can be updated easily. Also, it strengthens teacher-
student communication and also the communication between the stu-
dents themselves outside of class so that they can delve into aspects of our
subject together in more detail, by carrying out debates, for example.
Why does Barbara continue to refer to the potential of the platform for
supporting learning practices based on student-student interaction even
though she herself does not introduce these activities? It would appear
that Barbara is happy to be associated professionally with a tool that offers
these online communicative activities even though her own use of the VLE
does not incorporate them. Once again, the meaning that the use of the
VLE has in this context is strongly related to the positive and ‘modern’
associations, which online communication has in the learning communities
at both setting and context levels, and it is this meaning that Barbara stakes
claim to in her explanation of why she uses Moodle.
However, a further possible explanation for the differences between Bar-
bara’s aspirations and actual teaching practices emerges in the interviews,
which suggests that impediments at the setting level may hinder or limit
teachers’ plans. She explains that she was adapting a gradual approach
to integrating the VLE due to the organizational and technical challenges
which introducing an online learning platform is seen to involve:
In my Linguistics course I realise I can add a lot more different activities,

but considering this was my first “attempt” I am pretty happy [. . .] Next
year I’ll repeat the things I’ve done this year and I’ll try out some new
activities. I’ll include more resources like articles and web pages and
above all I’ll develop the aspect of communication between the students
with debates, online forums, etc.
For Barbara, the move from traditional learning scenarios to blended

formats using Moodle will take various stages which involve, first, transfer-
ring familiar class content and practices more or less directly into the online
platform and then, when this stage has been completed, gradually introduc-
ing more innovative aspects such as online debates. This explanation echoes
the findings reported by Egbert et al. (2002) that many teachers find that
factors at the setting level, such as time restrictions and curricular demands,
can hamper their transition from traditional teaching scenarios to innova-
tive forms of online and blended learning. These authors conclude that
teachers may need a period of time to become more comfortable working
with new technologies and exploiting them to the full. Similarly, Dutton
et al. warn that ‘it takes time for individuals to discover how new technolo-
gies enable them not only to do things in new ways, but also to do new
things’ (2004: 78).
Looking at the case of Barbara through the lens of Layder’s social realism
it becomes clear that, if the platform is to be used by many teachers for
any activity beyond the transfer of materials from one format to another,
then a lot more is necessary than simply a platform, which claims to support
this particular approach to learning. Change will be necessary at the self -
level as teachers will have to gain a better understanding of the pedagogical
consequences of taking on student-centred approaches, while at the setting
level institutions will have to support and encourage training in student-
centred approaches to online learning and increase awareness as to what
innovative online teaching practice may involve.
Case study 2: old light through new windows
Isabel is a Spanish native and teaches English for Specific Purposes to a

group of approximately thirty-five students. Isabel shows great interest in
using the platform from the moment it is introduced in the department
and is observed in the weeks before the course starts investing a great
amount of time experimenting with the different organizational options
that Moodle offers. As with Barbara, initial interviews with Isabel reveal that
her motivation for using Moodle stems to a great extent from the positive,
modern, connotations which online learning seems to carry in the context
of Spanish education and society. She explains:
I want to change my methods of teaching. I want to integrate the new

technologies and I feel it was a good opportunity having the platform
ready for use.
The situated activity of using the VLE also appears to carry the meaning of
making her teaching practices more communicative and of establishing a
more personal approach to teacher-student interaction. This is confirmed
in her following comments about the communicative possibilities offered

by the new medium:
I plan to use most of the tools and activities available but I think that the
forums and chats will be a very important part of the after class tutorials.
I’ve never liked the noninteraction between the teacher and student. It
[using Moodle] is a good opportunity for one-to-one interaction. When
they ask me questions about their activities, instead of having to explain
things globally to the whole class I can get to know them better in a
personal and in a professional way. Also, I feel they would be more open
to me if they could write to me on a one to-one relationship.
It becomes clear that the teacher initially sees the online communica-
tive functions of the platform as a manner of establishing a closer, more
personal form of contact with her students. Here, the general discourse
of student-centred online pedagogy and cultural models of teacher-student
relationships, which are present at context level, seems to shape the teacher’s
own hopes and beliefs about what introducing Moodle can bring to her
classes. Through the use of the message boards, personal messaging and
chat options, the teacher believes she will have greater opportunities to
interact on a one-to-one level with her students and thereby to establish bet-
ter relationships with them – something that appears not to be occurring
in her classes at the moment. (Elsewhere in this book, Develotte outlines
some of the changes in teachers’ models of the teacher-student relation-
ship, which may have to be involved in order that teachers such as Isabel
can manage the change to their own values.)
However, as was the case with Barbara, positive attitudes to the commu-
nicative and collaborative functions of the platform do not automatically
lead to their implementation in the classroom. Isabel’s Moodle course is full
of activities and resources for the students to access and work through, both
in-class and at home. These include links to web pages related to the course
subject, PowerPoint presentations based on grammar points, interactive
quizzes, a mini-dictionary created by the teacher with the glossary function
and scans of book extracts containing graphs and diagrams related to course
content. In general, the online element of the course follows a traditional
‘present – practice – produce’ format, which involves presenting grammar
and vocabulary themes through Powerpoint presentations and textbook
extracts and then testing these items through interactive quizzes and the
submission of worksheets in Word format. Even though Isabel originally
mentions the opportunities for increased student communication and par-
ticipation, which the platform offered to teachers, her use of the platform
does not take up these possibilities. Instead, her online activity appears
to reflect common local perceptions (present at the setting level) of what

should go on in online learning. It was noted earlier that many students
involved in these courses had reported understanding online learning as the
transfer of text-based materials to a digital format and this is what appears
to be happening here to a great extent. Isabel justifies this approach in the
following extract by arguing that the direct transfer of activities from hard
copy to the online platform was having a motivating effect on the students:
At the beginning I had the usual listening and reading activities [in the
classes] but then I discovered that the students were uninterested in them
so I moved these activities to the computer platform. And they became
much more interested. They expected me to have all the activities in the
platform and they were even sending me e-mails about the work that they
had to do. So they really got involved in the activity.
Interviewer: So to what extent did you take the materials you usually
do in class and put them online? Did that happen a lot?
Yeah, it was easy to convince them that we were doing a different activity
even though it was simply a matter of uploading a word document onto
the platform instead of printing it out to use in class.
Interviewer: Didn’t the students realise this?
No, I’m not sure. They definitely reacted in a much better way to this
approach. I think it’s because they are not used to be in front of the
computer working. They associate the computer with enjoyment. They
associate the teacher in front of them as a type of work but they feel more
free in front of the computer. And they have already made up their mind
that they are going to have a good time. It’s like “Wow! Computer lab!
We’ll have a great time”.
Interviewer: Did you try any activities in Moodle which you wouldn’t
do normally?
I tried the chat but it wouldn’t work properly. And we didn’t use the
message boards much because they are not mature enough to use it. You
know, we tried it at the beginning but all their messages were, like, “Sylvia
is a fool”.
The situated activity of online teaching now seems to take on a meaning

of distracting learners or duping them into believing they are engaging
in new learning activities. More communicative or collaborative functions
of the platform such as using the message board to engage the students in
interaction with each other and with others outside the classroom is rejected
due to a perceived lack of student maturity.
Unlike what we observed in the previous case study, the reasons why
Moodle is used in such a way would appear to go beyond a lack of training
in the communicative and collaborative tools and options available on the

platform. Instead, it is Isabel’s attitudes to her students and to the concept
of appropriate teacher and student roles on the self level, which rule out an
exploration of a social constructivist approach to learning and its student-
centred principles.
Isabel’s beliefs here may be seen to be a product of an educational system
where communicative methodology has generally failed to make its way into
the foreign language classroom. In their review of the teaching of foreign
languages in Spain, Carmena et al. suggest that ‘it is fair to ask whether
these new didactic approaches have really impregnated the actual practice
of language teaching’ (Carmena López et al. 2000: 299, our translation) and
Isabel’s beliefs and online practices would seem to reflect a local culture of
teaching and learning, which is essentially teacher-centred and is based on
the transfer of information from teacher to learner. As becomes clear in the
following case study, it is only when the technology is employed by teachers
willing to move away from this approach that its potential for innovation
becomes tangible.
Case study 3: developing through a community of practice
Andrew is a native speaker of English who has been living and teaching in
Spain for over 15 years. He has been working at this particular university for
8 years and teaches courses in literature and in English as a Foreign Lan-
guage to undergraduates of English Philology. He begins to use Moodle in
a first year EFL course in the second semester after the platform has already
been in use in the department for approximately 6 months. In the course of
the many interviews and conversations about the platform, Andrew repeat-
edly underlines his lack of computer and electronic literacy and he often
describes himself depreciatively as ‘technologically shy or challenged’. Never-
theless, his uses of Moodle are probably among the most innovative in the
department and are those that come closest to the social constructivist prin-
ciples of Moodle’s developers. Andrew uses the platform as a location for a
bilingual online intercultural exchange between his students and students
of Spanish as a Foreign Language at a North American university. In the
platform, students have access to asynchronous message boards where they
can write to their partners, and they find worksheets with task descriptions
and ‘reminders’ of deadlines, which Andrew posts on the teachers’ message
board. Andrew spends between 2 and 3 hours each week reading the mes-
sages posted by his students and their North American partners and often
brings printouts of messages into class in order to discuss their linguistic
and cultural content with the group.
The teacher’s reasons for using Moodle echo those of Isabel and Barbara
to a certain extent in that he too sees the platform as an opportunity for
developing professionally as a teacher. However, unlike his colleagues’ com-
ments, his own appear to go a step further and suggest that he is making
clear changes to his approach to teaching:
For a start it [using the platform] adds variety. But it also allows you to
move away from the classic situation where the teacher is simply passing
on knowledge to the students. It takes the onus away from the teacher
being the only source of knowledge. It’s also a way of being open to
potential change and obviously if you are in touch with technology you
have a chance for professional development [. . .] It’s a refreshing thing
for yourself as a teacher – it keeps you up to date.
Here it is evident that Andrew believes that the type of online work in
which he engages his students enables him to move towards a particular
approach to learning and teaching, which involves fewer teacher-centred
activities. In a later interview he returns to this theme, explaining how the
online exchange ‘encourages students to move away from the teacher and
stop looking at him as a source of knowledge about everything’. Towards
the end of the project, he demonstrates a critically reflective approach to
his online activity as he explains how his approach to using Moodle and the
online exchange has developed over time:
[A]t the beginning I used it [the online intercultural exchange] as a sort

of add on activity that students had to do outside of class – but I found it
was much less successful when I did it that way so now I try to incorporate
it more into the classroom and prepare students for tasks before they do
them online and all round I feel I am trying to use more features available
in Moodle.
Andrew attributes great importance to the support he received from other

colleagues who were already using the platform in their teaching. Apart
from the teachers reported in these case studies, various other instructors
with considerable experience in using on-line technologies in their classes
had taken up Moodle during its first year of availability and had used the
VLE for international collaborative activities similar to Andrew’s online
teaching. Andrew had shown interest in how these colleagues were using
the platform and he reports in his interviews that seeing how this activity
was used at the setting level had given him confidence and had convinced
him of the advantages of integrating Moodle into his own classes:
When I saw what they were doing I could see that it worked. I could see
that other teachers were using it and that their students were benefiting
from it. So I thought it could have a motivational value for my own

students as well.
This is a significant illustration of how factors at a setting level can support

as well as hinder the integration of VLEs into the classroom. Here, models of
good practice available at the local institution provide an impetus or even a
pressure for Andrew to innovate in his teaching practices. He returns to this
theme in another interview where he suggests that seeing other colleagues
working with the platform not only gave him the confidence to use it but
also served him as a reminder that he needed to keep updating his own
teaching practices:
I feel that the use of Moodle in the platform has been quite contagious.
The actual use of the platform by other teachers made me realise its
benefits and also at the same time to feel the need to update my own
practice.
Andrew’s experiences of using Moodle are a reminder of how the devel-

opment of a teaching culture, which involves innovative uses of technology,
will require the appropriate conditions across self, setting and context levels.
A teacher who, at self level, has the pedagogical capacity and conviction to
engage is social constructivist activities will have the opportunity to thrive
in a setting where colleagues are integrating new technologies into their
classes and are willing to share their experiences with others, and is also
likely to find inspiration in the attitudes to student-centred approaches to
online learning, which exist in the literature of online education.
Discussion: understanding local interpretations of online

teaching practice
This chapter set out, first, to explore the manner in which an online learning
platform with its own particular culture of learning and teaching was taken
up by the teaching staff at the foreign language department of a Spanish
university and, second, to establish how the local educational and cultural
contexts and the teachers’ own beliefs and pedagogical practices would
influence how the platform was actually employed.
First, it became evident that all three teachers involved in these case
studies saw the use of the on-line platform as related to the principle of
being a progressive, up-to-date teacher. It was seen in the description of the
local cultural context that there exists a general tendency in the world of
education (and in particular in Spanish society) that teachers should use
online activities with their learners and this external pressure undoubtedly
pushed these teachers to look for opportunities to incorporate learning
tools such as Moodle into their classes.
While it is perhaps of little surprise that teachers should associate on-line

technologies with pedagogical innovation and professional development,
it is nevertheless significant that two of the three teachers essentially lim-
ited their online activity to the transfer of materials and activities onto an
online format and avoided any use of the communicative and collaborative
functions available to them. Both teachers suggested that these tools and
activities would come at a later stage and offered various explanations for
this approach, including, first, the complexity of learning how to use the
platform’s functions properly and, second, their students’ high level of satis-
faction with using the new medium in their classes. However, their interview
data reveal that although the teachers pay lip service to the transformative
possibilities of the technology, they are essentially using it to reinforce their
control over student behaviour or to ‘fool’ their students into doing the
same activities in what the students may think are more innovative ways. For
example, both teachers mentioned using functions of the VLE to check up
on student participation and to force them to access materials, while Isabel’s
transfer of hard copy materials online was due to her students’ perceived
pre-disposition to online activity. In many senses, it appears that the use
of the VLE is an attempt to benefit from the connotations of innovation
and student-centred learning, which online learning holds for students and
for Spanish society in general, while at the same time allowing teachers to
continue in practice with teacher-centred approaches.
Analyzing this situation with a social realist lens means that any change
to these practices must involve development and change at both micro and
macro levels of Layder’s model. For example, it was seen in the case of
Andrew that the inspiration and motivation for using the platform in inno-
vative ways did not originate in ‘top-down’ macro-level initiatives involving
in-service training, but instead from an active community of practitioners
within the department itself. If a number of colleagues are seen to be suc-
cessfully using a platform in their classes, then they can become a model
for others to follow. They can also help to maintain momentum and pro-
vide their fellow teachers with new ideas of how to use the technology in
innovative ways. Sandholtz, Ringstaff, and Dwyer comment:
Not only can teachers serve as models for each other, their experiences
can give teachers who are learning to use technology a road map for the
process. By knowing what to expect, teachers can more easily manoeuvre
around the obstacles and more quickly reach their destination. (1997:
182)
Second, it was seen that if the introduction of VLEs such as Moodle are
to support social constructivist methodology, it is first of all necessary for a
culture of teaching to be present where teachers are knowledgeable of and
interested in engaging their learners in student-centred learning practices

involving a relinquishment of teacher control and a greater emphasis on
discovery- and project-based learning. If teachers are unaware of, or disagree
pedagogically with, such practices, then it goes without saying that the
introduction of any technologies such as Moodle will not serve to bring them
about. As part of this book’s effort to construct the notion of learning and
teaching cultures, we may therefore reflect on the relationship between the
‘introduction’ of a VLE and the ‘presence’ of a culture of student-centred
learning. As we have shown, interrelated macro and micro factors shape
both and bring them together in ways that need to be better understood if
such practices as we have described here are to change.
Conclusion
Over the past decade the internet and virtual learning platforms such as
Moodle have undoubtedly become an integral part of education in Western
society and have helped to shape the expectations and hopes that teachers
and students now bring to formal education. However, perhaps due to
simplified portrayals in the media and in the academic literature of what
online learning and teaching actually involve, there exists what Jane Healy
describes as an ‘unreasonable and unfounded fascination and belief in
[. . .] technology’s educational power (Healy, cited in Bax 2003: 25)’. This
often leads to an unfounded hope that the internet will make revolutionary
changes to the way learning and teaching take place in our classrooms.
In this chapter we have recognized the potential of Moodle and its learn-
ing culture for more innovative, student-centred approaches to learning
but we believe that the case studies have also provided a reminder that the
eventual impact of online learning continues to be very much dependent
on the culture of learning and teaching, which exists in each school or
university’s socioinstitutional context and also in the minds and behaviour
of the teachers who put them to use. Whether the minds and behaviour
of students also reflect these socioinstitutional contexts is a question, which,
while not part of our aim in this chapter, nevertheless can be asked, as other
chapters in this book show. Change and innovation can be brought about
through the use of online technologies, but only if there is support and will
for change on all four levels of Layder’s research map. This will include
administrative-supported training initiatives in online pedagogy, a genuine
interest from teachers themselves in exploring student-centred approaches
and a willingness on their behalf to take an active part in communities of
practice with colleagues.
Chapter 4
From Face-to-Face to Distance Learning: The

Online Learner’s Emerging Identity
Christine Develotte
Institut National de Recherche Pédagogique, France
Introduction
Over the last few years, online learning has made it possible for a new audi-
ence to access continuing education. For example in France, online Profes-
sional MAs in Language Teaching and Learning have attracted many teach-
ers of French-as-a-foreign-language, most of them already posted abroad.
The internet allows them to enrol on programmes offering university-level
professional qualifications. This chapter explores one such programme,
launched in Grenoble in November 2006 as a partnership between the Cen-
tre National d’Enseignement à Distance (or CNED, French national centre
for distance education, see Internet References section) and the Université
Grenoble 3. Within this programme, a module entitled ‘A Discourse
Approach to Intercultural Issues’ offers the opportunity for researchers
to collect a corpus for observing and analyzing aspects of the identity of
these online learners.
It is clear that, prior to enrolment in our module, the types of learning
cultures surrounding most of these students, many aged around thirty, are
tied in to traditional face-to-face classrooms. Their move to the online set-
ting is a significant ‘moment’, which the study aims to capture, because at
that point a break occurs with habits, behaviours and ‘representations’ (in
Moscovici’s understanding of the term, as discussed later in this chapter),
rooted in a previous, different context. Our research methodology takes
the above module as a starting point and aims to identify the main aspects
of that new learning culture, which could be called the ‘newly networked
learning culture’. Students were asked to analyze the different aspects of the
learning cultures implicit in their course, based on their reflective observa-

tions, which constitute our corpus.
The following are the questions addressed in the study:
r How do we move from the situation of the traditional classroom learner
to that of the online student?
r Which learning practices need to be deconstructed, modified and
adapted to this new context?
r Which new learning strategies seem to come into play at the sociocogni-
tive and socioaffective levels?
To answer these questions, it may be fruitful to focus on the particular
context of online learning. Before examining individual experiences, we
will look at the different social situations which give rise to them.
Background
The role of the social environment in constructing the individual

Following Piaget (1977) and Vygotsky (1978), among others, we now know
that the social dimension precedes individual knowledge:
Cognitive work occurs in a human, social and cultural world, and far from
being independent from it, it is on the contrary strongly determined by
it. (1978: 78)
It is upon this socioconstructivist conception that the present analysis
will be based. From this point of view, our knowledge of the world is based
on the ordering and organization of a world, which is constituted by our
individual experiences and our collective knowledge, transmitted primarily
through language.
Given the extent to which our social and discursive environment influ-
ences and conditions our vision of the world (Lévi-Strauss 1985), we can
hypothesize that a change in learning environment will destabilize online
students who, for the first time, must face a different learning environment
from that of the traditional classroom, and that they will look for ways of
adapting to this change. This will include making adjustments to their pre-
vious learning strategies, and it is certain aspects of those adjustments that
we will analyze, with two different aims in mind. One is to understand how
individuals adapt to a new pedagogical reality. The other is to address the
following, more sociological question: How does a student adapt to this new
learning environment? (A process described by Coulon (1993) as ‘affilia-
tion to the job of [online] student’ (1993: 96.) These differentiated aims will
underpin our exploration of the research questions set out in the previous
section.
From Face-to-Face to Distance Learning 73
Displayed spaces and spaces for production on the platform

In line with Vygotsky, we relate online pedagogical socialization to the
aspects of the development of the online learner’s individual identity that
the different types of interaction encourage. In order to specify more clearly
which sort of environment is likely to influence the way in which this social-
ization occurs for each learner, we focus on the relationship between space
and discourse, realized in screen and text form. To this aim, we use a notion
that brings together spaces in which discourse is displayed to learners, and
spaces for their production of discourse, which we call ‘Espace d’Exposition
Discursive’ (EED), although it is important to note that in stressing the
screen and text-related interpretation that we give to the phrase ‘Espace
d’Exposition Discursive’ and encapsulating it in an acronym, we intend to
set it apart from the notion of ‘discursive space’ as known, for example, in
discursive psychology.
Elsewhere (Develotte 2006), we have spoken of the EED of an online
teaching platform. By this we mean the digital (graphico-scriptural) envi-
ronment to which online learners are exposed when they come to the
platform. Whereas traditional classroom learners enter a classroom (with
desks, a board, i.e. a marked-out and norm-governed social space), online
learners connect to a platform, which involves a sense of ‘déjà-là’. In contrast
to situations of ‘déjà-vu’, in which the individual recognizes something that
she or he has already seen before, we can coin the phrase ‘déjà-là’ (already
there) to indicate that what they find, when they come online, is a world
that is both established (it pre-exists their arrival) and unfamiliar to them.
For example, the presentation of the course by teachers or administrators,
the creation of course headings, the organization of information and the
creation of web links are all ‘already there’.
As is clear from Figure 4.1, the discursive space to which the learner
is exposed does not reflect prior practices in terms of learning culture
(except in the case of two or three students who have already experienced a
similar kind of training). Also, the EED introduces a social space for teach-
ing/learning and new discursive practices. Learner socialization is therefore
shaped both by the EED and by the teachers’ and the administrators’ dis-
courses that take place there, before the arrival of the learners. The EED,
which is also linked to didactic and pedagogical choices, conditions the
form and the content of the discursive productions of the students. For
example, on the Dokeos platform studied here, the courses are structured
according to the following model: folders with the headings ‘activities’ and
‘work’, where the students’ monthly work is sent; and a ‘forum’, which
allows students to ask questions related to the course or to other matters.
More general headings allow students to communicate with each other in
a ‘Récré’ (recreation) space reserved, as the name suggests, for relaxing,
Course Who’s who
74
administration
Learning Cultures in Online Education

Alumni
Recreation area
Figure 4.1 Discursive Space

Table 4.1 Three Variables of the Learning Situation
Traditional
classroom, At a distance, by At a distance, via
co-presence correspondence digital forum
Interpersonal Direct, oral, Written, on paper Mediated through

communication visual technology
through the (including
synchronous different tools)
written forum
Teacher-learner Synchronous, Asynchronous, Asynchronous,
relations frequent, infrequent, frequent, a degree
spontaneous programmed for of spontaneity
regularity possible
Learner-learner Synchronous Absent Asynchronous,
relations mediated by
technology
Interlocutors’ Direct, Almost none, few Indirect, through
perceptions sensorial, clues online interaction
(anonymity) or information
or for communicating with an administrator for the Master’s degree at the

Université Grenoble 3. It is this digital environment for socialized learning
that provides the right soil for the culture of online learning of participants.
At this stage it is useful to compare pedagogical communication in three
learning situations experienced by the students from a social point of
view. The comparison, expressed through three variables, is summarized in
Table 4.1.
We start by putting forward two hypotheses, based on our foregrounding
of the social over the individual, one related to the system, and the other to
the individuals involved in it:
The “techno-semio-pragmatic” specificities, to use Peraya’s (1998) term,

of the learning environment influence the subculture that develops
among users, and therefore influences their identity as online learners. In
other words, participants do not express themselves in the same manner
in cases where pedagogical communication is carried out solely via asyn-
chronous writings (as it is in the Dokeos-mediated course being discussed
in this chapter), or via synchronous exchanges, be they text-based or
multimodal. Thus it cannot be assumed that the online learning culture

will be the same in these different contexts. Each digital environment is
a reflection of conceptions in educational and pedagogical engineering
that pre-exist the “arrival” of the user. Within each, a set of specific dis-
cursive norms and conversational rituals develops, and each engenders a
different ethos for the participants. This is the first hypothesis put forward
in this study.
The second hypothesis is that the learners, as individuals, have an
identity marked by their multiple previous experiences of learning (most
frequently in traditional classroom environments) and that their charac-
teristics (age, origin, sex) as well as their profiles (technical knowledge,
personality, time available, etc.) also influence the social dynamics of
the group. This had already begun to happen when we interviewed the
learners. In the study we therefore have access to individual representa-
tions expressed by learners who had inserted themselves into the social
dynamics of the pedagogical forum two months earlier.
Moscovici (1973) describes social representations as:
cognitive systems with a logic and language of their own. [. . .] They do not
represent simply “opinions about”, “images of” or “attitudes towards” but
“theories” or “branches of knowledge” in their own right, for the discovery
and organisation of reality, of systems of values, ideas and practices with a
two-fold function: first, to establish an order which will enable individuals
to orient themselves in their material world and to master it; and secondly,
to enable communication to take place among members of a community
by providing them with a code for naming and classifying unambiguously
the various aspects of the world and individual and group history.
(1973: xiii)
Moscovici stresses the need to use social representations as ‘a drawbridge

between the world of the individual and the social world, to relate them to
the perspective of a changing world’ (1991: 83, our translation).
As a psycho-social research tool, the representations of subjects engaged
in a training situation have long been of interest to educational researchers
(Rosenthal & Jackobson 1971; Giordan 1983).
Using the above framework, this chapter investigates learner represen-
tations among a group of students new to online learning. Based on the
hypothesis that recurrent representations may be held up as signs of an
emerging identity, our chapter looks towards identifying the representa-
tions that our students have of their learning, as a contribution to a descrip-
tion of the diversity of learner experiences online. Through an analysis of
representations, we aim to explore the differences and commonalities –
among learner variables – specific to this online-learning culture.
The study
Context of the training

The study discussed in this chapter examines the experience of learn-
ers enrolled in the second year of a professional Master’s level
online training course ‘Didactique du FLE et approches discursives de
l’interculturel’(Teaching French as a Foreign Language: A Discourse Per-
spective on Intercultural Issues). This course is delivered by the CNED-
Université Grenoble 3 and it offers teachers of French as a Foreign Lan-
guage the opportunity to bring their professional qualifications up to date.
In other words, the students, who are already teachers, are seeking to acquire
a professional certification related, in this case, to online teaching/learning.
They are therefore as interested in the form of transmission and the cog-
nitive processes that it entails, as in the content of this training. Moreover,
all are French native speakers and 80 percent of them work outside France.
Here are some details on the teaching/learning environment: students
receive the course documents (on paper or in a pdf file) and are supported
via asynchronous online tutoring in their eight classes. The tutorials are
mostly managed by the teacher in charge of the module (sometimes in
association with one or two colleagues). In these tutorials regular interac-
tions occur, with each tutor connecting around twice a week in order to
answer students’ questions concerning the set activities or comprehension
problems in relation to the class. The module in which the data examined
here was gathered (Teaching French as a Foreign Language: A Discourse
Perspective on Intercultural Issues) offered students a choice between con-
tinuous assessment and a final thesis or essay. Note that this approach to
assessment would in itself have had implications for the cultural dimension
of this online course, but student data does not refer to it, and it is therefore
excluded from the present study. The twenty students who are the subjects
of this study chose continuous assessment. The course began with six tutori-
als. Two months later, three further tutorials were added, among which were
those that were taught by the author and are under study in this chapter.
Study corpus and methodology

The corpus of data upon which this study is based was gathered during the
initial online activity carried out by a cohort of students enrolled between
2006 and 2007. With a view to raising their awareness of the cultural dimen-
sions related to online learning, we encouraged them to think about the
changes introduced into their learning culture by the computer-mediated
dimension of their distance study. They were given the following instructions
(bearing in mind that this was the author’s first tutorial, although the
students had by that stage already experienced online tutorials by other
tutors):
You began this online training two months ago, and we will start this
course with an exploration of this teaching/learning. I would like to
invite you to test the techniques of reflexive analysis suggested in Chapter
1 of the course by observing your own habits, behaviour and represen-
tations associated with online learning (in comparison with the tradi-
tional classroom teaching culture to which you were exposed before).
Try to describe your perception of anonymity, of solitary work, of the
integration of the technological dimension into this type of learning
(and of the temporal and spatial specificities related to this) and of every
other variable you consider relevant to understanding your experience
as a learner. Do not hesitate to give examples to illustrate each of your
perceptions.
Twenty reflective student assessments, each about 2,000 to 2,500 words,

were collected (without the students having access to each other’s represen-
tations): fourteen stated the novelty of this online learning experience for
them; three showed experience of distance learning through paper-based
correspondence only; and three had already had experience of online
teaching the previous year, that is, the first year of their 2-year Master’s
programme. For 85 percent of the students it was therefore their first expe-
rience of online learning. Thirty percent of students had experience of
distance learning, but for half of these it had involved correspondence only.
As a large majority (70 percent) of these learners had been educated in
France, where a transmission model of teaching is favoured, we considered
that in spite of possible influences from outside school, learners would have
mainly constructed their learner identities from a traditional classroom
experience, and that their cultural references would be linked to a classic
form of transmission of knowledge, which privileges the contents over the
learning processes.
Using the variables in Table 4.1, we will identify those characteristics
that are brought to the fore by students, to specify online interpersonal
pedagogical relationships. Which elements in this table are mentioned by
the learners? Which ones are not? Which ones are new?
In the following analyses we will dissociate those representations which are
linked to the specificities of the pedagogical communication system from
those that are more precisely linked to the socioaffective aspects of the
training, thus reflecting the two aims that we formulated earlier, of studying
how individuals adapt to a new pedagogical reality, and how they affiliate
to the job of an online student. This will allow us to draw up sociocognitive
and psycho-cognitive profiles for the learners, taking full account of the
particular technological and human context of this online training.
This analysis is organized around elements collected in a thematic way
from within the students’ accounts. Sixteen students have been teachers for
5 years on an average (in France or outside France). Because of their pre-
sumed interest in the learning process, we assume that they are in a position
to give a critical and detached view of their learning experience. In order
to make visible the representations regarding relations to the technological
system and interpersonal relations, we used a method consisting of dividing
up each student’s contribution thematically, to produce data categorized
according to the columns of Table 4.1.
The extracts from the different students’ assignments were thus juxta-
posed and analyzed. Within each thematic category, we found that students
had expressed themselves through questions, positive critique or negative
critique. We quantified the data according to these modes of expression so
as to form an idea of the overall corpus analyzed. (The number of students
appears in each case in round brackets in the sections that follow, while
square bracketed numbers identify each individual student). For each mode
of expression (i.e. questioning, positive or negative) extracts of the students’
discursive productions were selected, illustrating the different themes that
were broached. Through this first exploratory investigation of the corpus
we seek to highlight the representations conveyed by the learners as part of
their discursive productions, ‘zooming in’ on them, as it were.
In the conclusion of the analyses of the four themes broached, we try to
show how the main identity traits specific to the online learner are repre-
sented in the asynchronous online pedagogical environment under study.
We start with representations concerning online interpersonal communi-
cation, before dealing with those related to teacher-learner relations, then
learner-learner relations and finally those that refer to the perceptions of
interlocutors in this kind of discursive space.
Discussion
Interpersonal communication through the synchronous written forum

All of the students gave their viewpoint on the particular form taken by the
pedagogical communication in the Dokeos platform. We examine which
aspects were appreciated and which received the most negative evaluations.
Among those elements mentioned by the students, we retain those specific
to this form of learning and we discard, for example, those concerning
distance only, as being applicable not only to this but also other forms of
teaching (i.e. by correspondence).
Among the twenty student productions, in our analysis of the extracts

concerning technological communication via the forum, we identify twelve
responses, which give ‘negative’ evaluations, seven ‘positive’ evaluations and
one ‘questioning’ evaluation.
We therefore begin with ‘negative’ representations and we define the
different levels to which they refer.
Feeling of insecurity when facing technology

The negative comments covered two points: the complexity of the platform
(8) and the difficulty of communicating via this medium (4). The first
point refers to two difficulty levels: the sheer number of messages, and the
way they are visually organized on the platform. Thus ‘the multiplicity of
links on the platform makes it tentacular (or sprawling)’ according to one
student, while another student spoke of ‘the impression of a tangle of new
information, in comparison with a traditional tutorial in which the reactions
and the remarks of the teachers or the students follow the outline of the
class’. Other students referred to Kafka and Ionesco to express what they saw
as the absurd and frightening world of this online platform. Thus a general
feeling of insecurity was created, contrasting with the level of organization
that learners experienced in their previous studies.
[5] At first I had the feeling of being invaded by an unpredictable flux

of heterogeneous information and modalities, for which I had to keep
searching, with the feeling nonetheless that I had no control at all over the
situation; or partial control at best. How do we explain this mind-blowing
cognitive insecurity?
Perhaps predictably, the technical problems were expressed (8) both in

terms of the weaknesses of the teaching system, and of the learners’ unpre-
dictable access and own limitations with regard to the use of technology (2).
Thus three students (located in Asia) mentioned the connection problems
caused by an earthquake, which occurred on 26 December 2006, one of
the consequences of which was that the underwater optic cables carrying
the greater part of the internet connections were ruptured, interrupting the
online pedagogical communication for 10 days.
These two levels of difficulty enter into what Kupersmith (1995) calls
‘technostress’, pointing, perhaps, to the need for a further study to check
if there is a relation between the students’ technical competence and the
expression of their feeling of insecurity. It is, in any case, a hypothesis worth
putting forward: that the lesser the technical knowledge, the greater the
stress among the students.
Perceptions of unequal appropriation of the communication environment

The images associated with the forum as a place of discursive production
were seen very differently by individual students. Some found it easier to
express themselves than others (7):
[10] The use of forums breaks barriers and inhibitions. There is no longer
a gulf between those who dare and those who don’t dare speak up. I’m
someone who is usually reserved in front of a large group, and for me
this tool is reassuring.
Other students (5), however, felt inhibited while using the platform:
[13] Sending a message on the Dokeos platform amounts to hurling one-
self into the void, with no chance of checking the relevance of a question
by seeing the reactions of your interlocutors. By writing a message, we
must accept a much larger part of responsibility for what we say: once
the message is sent, we cannot change it, even if we have realized that
we have made an error. I think that I can analyze this attitude as a sort
of apprehension of “the other”, an uneasiness to which I react by asking
fewer questions than I would if I were in a classroom.
These images are very varied and the way that they evolve would merit a
study on its own. It might then be possible to find out whether reactions like
those of student [13] are temporary, linked to the initial discovery factor,
or whether they are likely to become permanent, associated with the ethos
that this individual built up through the use of the platform.
It is often the case that the same aspect is seen in different ways by
individual students. For example, the public character of the statements on
the forum can be experienced as a lack of confidentiality or, conversely, as
a sharing of the training process between the students.
[11] The forums [. . .] lack a dimension of confidentiality. Sometimes
I compensated by contacting the other member of the work group by
email.
[4] What I particularly like is the fact that nothing is hidden or well-
guarded, like it is when we are in a classroom where sometimes only a
few students can benefit from the information given, since the questions
which are posed outside courses and classrooms don’t circulate to every
student and, similarly, don’t necessarily make it to the ears of the teachers.
But in the case of distance learning, both teachers and students participate
regularly in all of the online “dialogues”.
Similarly, the asynchronous aspect of exchanges was liable to trigger pos-
itive or negative reactions; according to the students:
[20] There is no immediate feedback from the teacher; each participant

is always waiting for the response from a professor, from a student, or
from a member of the administration.
[1] The asynchronous style teaches us to be patient and to organize our

work in advance so that we take into account the time we must wait before
we receive a response.
One area for further exploration suggested by our findings – which are
limited by the broad view that we have adopted in this study – would be
to refine the grain of the analysis by including biographical details relat-
ing to the learners’ previous educational experiences, their affinities (or
otherwise) for using technology and their orientation towards autonomous
learning, etc.
Indicators of a change of culture

We offer two examples of students’ impressions, which may be precursors
to cultural changes in the domain of learning. The first example is that of
a student who asks herself the following questions:
[3] I also asked myself about certain aspects of the operation of the plat-
form, in particular about the possibility of seeing who is connected and
about the recording of the frequency of our connections. Does knowing
that others are online, without being able to come into contact with them,
serve to maintain the motivation of the group or, rather, to consolidate a
feeling of belonging to a community, for example? As for the information
about our connections, I suppose that it permits the teachers to judge the
“health” of the platform by means of statistics.
In effect, these questions attest to the knowledge of this particular tech-

nical culture that this student has1 ; her inferences relate to the limits of the
platform, on one hand, and, on the other hand, to the functions of control
linked to the system of technological traces. The majority of teachers do not
use the statistical information about students’ connections, but the totality
of this student’s productions must, presumably, take place while she has in
mind the possibility that somebody (teacher or administrator) could lurk
and check what she is doing while she works on the platform. Such potential
checks undeniably form part of the available technico-discursive machinery.
In our opinion, these remarks may be considered as the start of changes to
the image of what a pedagogical exchange is, when carried out online.
In the same vein, the ideas of the student below indicate that her per-
ception of writing has changed because of her experience of using the
platform:
[13] While I would allow myself to ask spontaneous questions in class,

when learning online I prefer to put my doubts to one side and think
about the question myself or else re-read the notes I took to find the
response. It’s only when I’m sure of my lack of understanding of the
subject matter that I ask the question on the platform; this clearly makes
questioning much less impulsive. My vision of what writing is surely enters
into the game, here. Indeed, I am used to informal exchanges when
writing in a personal style (letters, chats, diverse synchronous exchanges),
but, in my thinking process, writing in a university setting is immediately
associated with work that is definitive, thought-out, constructed, and often
liable to be evaluated. Whereas I see oral communication as a system of
propositions, of hypotheses, of reflections, and of questioning, written
trial and error is difficult for me to envision. As it were, I feel that I have
less of a right to make a mistake when writing than when speaking. The
discussion forum at the university is thus another perturbing element
in my cognitive process, since its goal is to be a system of exchanges of
doubts and questions that are written. Accounting for my thoughts on the
matter, sending a message on the platform is, for me, taking a singular
risk which requires more tolerance of uncertainty than one would find in
oral participation in a classroom learning situation.
The relationship with writing is ingrained in our social practices and

it models our behaviours. The reflections above reflect the necessity of
a cultural appropriation of this new relationship to writing online in the
context of learning. This type of writing distinguishes itself from traditional
writing at university because of its more spontaneous character, in that it is
less determined by a search for formal perfection.
Teacher-learner relations
Concerning relationships with their teachers, students expressed ideas that
related to the idea of greater freedom of expression online, which goes back
to what Walther (1996) has called ‘hyperpersonal’ interaction. This aspect,
that is, relations that are more relaxed than they are in the classroom, was
noted by nine students:
[19] The relationships between the students and the teachers are
friendlier and more relaxed. The latter are also present on the Qui est qui
(Who’s Who) forum. Mr. M. uses smileys to wink at us, Mr. C. jokes around
[. . .] The online relationship helps to lose inhibitions. I say things that I
would never permit myself to say in a classroom (what I am in the process
of writing for you, for example); things like humor, criticism. [. . .] There
are failures of communication due to technical problems (disappearance
of forums2 ); (would I ever make such an allusion in a classroom, and

wink at you?).
The teacher thus appears paradoxically, ‘closer and more accessible

despite the distance and the asynchronicity’. One can also link this aspect
to the fact that the teachers were involved in the design of the pedagogi-
cal communication environment and that they had deliberately chosen a
form of tutorial support that was appropriate to supporting students in a
socioaffective manner.
Learner-learner relations
All 20 students mentioned the new type of relationship that distance-
learning sets up with other students, if only because they were surprised, as
in the case of the following individual:
[19] The image of distance learning that I had was very different. First,
I imagined only a teacher/student relationship. But I realized that one
enters into a new mode of learning in which interaction and collaborative
work have an essential place. Thus, there is a strong support system:
tutorial support, exchanges (forums, chats, collaborative groups). At no
time did I ever think of exchanges between students.
Three subthemes are addressed in the framework of relationships

between students: first and foremost collective work, then solidarity and
the feeling of noncompetition and, finally, the absence of conversations
outside class time.
Collective work
Ninety percent of the students dedicated a part of their reflections to collec-
tive work, which appeared to be the element perceived as most prominent
in the relationship between students. Indeed, eighteen students were inter-
ested in work, which prompted them to co-operate in an activity with another
student. The evaluations of this aspect of relationships in distance learning
were varied: seven students had a negative judgment of this type of work, six
mentioned their interest, two expressed puzzlement, and three others had
negative impressions at the start, which evolved during the course, becom-
ing more positive at the end. The following are examples of the difficulty
which was most often cited (10), that is choosing a partner to make up a
pair:
[11] I would express my reservations most especially with the work done
in pairs or in groups. We need to collaborate with one or several other
people chosen in a completely random way. It is true that we have a

description of each person on the forum at our disposal, but ultimately
that doesn’t say much about the personality of the individual and whether
or not we are going to be able to get along.
Henri (2007) considers, after more than 20 years of analyzing the process
of online collaboration, that collaboration requires preparation and that
it is necessary to teach students how to collaborate and to make sure that
stages are not skipped, because these are useful in preparing for later work.
In only one case did the difficulty mentioned earlier come from a stu-
dent’s own acknowledged shortcomings:
[5] Collaborative work is still difficult for me [. . .]. I admit, of course, that
I have an independent personality, difficulties with delegation and trust,
and even a need for control.
The students also made a link between other ways of communicating

(outside the platform) and the collective work in pairs (6). The following
examples demonstrate that the students used initiative and appropriated
the different tools available in order to adjust as much as possible to the
constraints of communication:
[18] Time-management was the triggering factor of reorganization in

the communication. The multitude of details to deal with in our pair
work made it necessary to move to synchronous exchanges via Windows
MessengerTM .
The problems with time-management, in these types of training courses,

were mentioned by all the students. Similar difficulties are discussed by
Thorpe (2006: 506), who adds that ‘Conferencing and on-line tutorials
can also add to study workload if they are not well-moderated or well-
structured. More time is required to read large numbers of messages when
conferences are not tightly threaded or a tutor does not weave together
the themes effectively or summarize and guide the discussion’. Certainly
the pedagogical communication environment that is offered to students is
capable of improvement in numerous ways. Indeed these communicative
protocols are not yet familiar ground for teachers or educational designers,
and both these communities constantly seek to improve them through
attention to developments highlighted in studies like the current one.
In addition to the time factor that is cited by students to justify moving
over to other modes and tools of communication, there is also a need to
compare one’s thoughts and feelings about the training courses with those
of others.
[17] I notice that I immediately reintroduced a “corporal” and “percep-

tible” dimension into my group, notably by using a communication tool
that is synchronous and “more human”: the telephone. Although not in
the physical presence of our peers, it allows us to be in contact with a
voice, with something that is alive, which is also reassuring.
This underlines the need on the part of students to share emotions socially
(Rimé 2005), the lack of which was mentioned in a number of ways by them.
Solidarity/absence of competitiveness
Several students (5) mentioned their surprise or their pleasure when they
were helped by other students.
[6] Having received my courses two months after the beginning of the
training course, I felt very alone when faced with my learning. Happily,
two students sent me messages of support and encouragement, which
really surprised me but also “remotivated” me. I think, here, that distance
learning allows this type of intervention more easily than classroom learn-
ing. Would I have had the support of two perfect strangers in a classroom
situation?
This expression of solidarity among students, which is surprising for a

teacher who is used to classroom culture, seems to be something specific to
online learning and could be linked to the reduced feeling of competition,
which was also noted by several students.
Loss of socializing time in-between formal face-to-face sessions

The uniquely ‘professional’ character of the relationships between students
on the teaching platform was highlighted (4):
[6] One of the disadvantages of distance learning is that the contact

remains linked only to the training course. Personal connections, which
are also a source of motivation, are absent.
It is clear, then, that the lack of relationships with other students was
felt most often in the motivational and social aspects, which help to share
emotions (e.g. stress or others).
[6] I also think that, when everyone is physically present, information

circulates more easily than in distance learning. In a classroom, while
waiting for a teacher, for example, or during the breaks, the students
chat and exchange information very easily and naturally. [. . .] So it’s not
very reassuring to work alone, in front of a computer that will never say
to you, “In fact, you had started working on. . .” or, “You handed in. . .”,
or even, “This assignment is really hard. . ., how did you start it?”, etc.
It seems that in separating recreational topics (‘Récré’) from ‘serious’
topics and putting them into different ‘boxes’, the platform through its
structures has broken with the usual mix that is customary in on-site classes,
which bring together the speeches and lectures in the classroom with the
talk that goes on in the hallway or the cafeteria. Perhaps on future distance
teaching/distance learning platforms, these EEDs, which are more hybrid,
will become prevalent if the demand for them highlights their pedagogical
importance.
Constructing one’s interlocutor

Among the themes that we had suggested to students as ways of structuring
their accounts of their experience with distance learning was the theme of
anonymity, which was an important element to consider when looking at
the perceptions (or, rather, the nonperceptions) of the interlocutors on the
platform. In fact it seems that anonymity did not emerge as a particularly
relevant theme because more than half of the students (11/20) did not feel
that this form of distance learning conveyed a feeling of anonymity (the
other nine did not address this theme):
[17] I construct images of personalities from the information that each
person gives, so as to adapt to this change and recreate a universe that
mixes the known and the unknown.
[3] Names took on a face because some people included a photo on their
course blog (for the ‘computer-assisted collective learning ’ module).
[5] On Dokeos, one can read not only detailed answer keys and personal
information, but also warm exchanges and links to personal sites. I myself
have Googled the names of teachers in order to know more about their
academic careers and frames of mind. Thus, according to the success of
my searches, sometimes I do my work with faces and sometimes I do it
while trying to guess the personality traits of my partners. Both ways are
pleasant.
One interesting find was the way in which the students restored reality
to their professors who were not present (i.e. who were connected to the
forum) by using online or imaginary information; the virtual here took on

its true meaning. But it shows the necessity of having an image of the other,
which is projected or otherwise seen, in order to experience a pedagogical
relationship online, at least for some people:
[19] I also find it funny that I imagine faces by using other people’s intro-
ductions of themselves, their questions, and their personalities (although
some people have put their picture on their blog).
For one of the students, the people who remained anonymous were
those who did not frequently use the forum; for the others, clues allowed
the imagination to compensate for the lack of information to which we are
accustomed in on-site learning:
[8] Style or tonality are revealing, and one cannot neglect what might
appear while reading between the lines [. . .]. This student seems to be in a
hurry because there are several typos in his text. That one is not coherent
in his usage of typography. Another one takes great care that her text flows
well. Or a recurring error shows a nonnative speaker (our emphasis).
One question that emerged concerned the universality and types of expe-
rience, that is, whether all students experienced this, what form this expe-
rience took and what role this imaginary projection played in the learning
process (motivational level, etc.). In the final part of our study, we examine
the traces that indicate how individuals appropriate a new learning culture
generated by the move to on-line/distance learning. This emerging learn-
ing culture foreshadows new learning identities, which are currently being
constructed.
Emerging identities
Our aim in undertaking this study was to answer questions about the move
from classroom learner to online student, and in particular to identify new
learning practices and strategies, coming into play at the sociocognitive
and socioaffective levels. In the final section, we now address these two
dimensions.
Sociocognitive level
Another finding of note concerns the differences between what, according
to the students (5), was seen as the ‘good performance’ of an online learner
and the real behaviours that had been adopted up to this point in the course
(i.e. 2 months after the start). Here is an example:
[19] Although the didactic intentions of this training course aim for stu-
dent/student and student/teacher interactions, I prefer student/teacher
exchanges most of the time. However, I remain persuaded that the best
way to learn is to get involved actively. So, why didn’t I play the game?
This understanding of the issues and of the modalities of teaching was
not enough to reorient the work habits that had been ingrained for many
years, as the same student explains:
[19] The first reason, I think, is that I was used to the traditional
teacher/knowledge/student triangle, and that the change in the way
that speech acts are enacted through technological mediation was diffi-
cult. The second reason is my lack of self-confidence as a learner. The
sanction of success and of failure can be destabilizing when one is an
adult. As a result, I no longer have confidence in my co-learners. How
can they respond to my questions when they aren’t professors? To give
advice to other students seemed pretentious to me.
This narration is in the past tense because the student later explains
in what manner her impressions evolved and lead to behaviours that were
more adapted to the pedagogical situation online. The next section provides
examples of new strategies of learning, which emerged in order to respond
appropriately to the pedagogical communication mechanism.
Psycho-cognitive level
The five students who declared which learning strategies they had used all
started from the need to rethink their way of learning, taking into account
the disappearance of elements which they were accustomed to use as part
of the framework of a classroom situation.
[13] In order to catch up with my learning strategies in the classroom,
I had the use of new strategies to simulate interactions: not only did I
decide to proceed with creating personal evaluations in the form of tests
that reproduce the system of questioning someone else, but I also forced
myself to evaluate my appropriation of knowledge by regularly speaking
out loud and imagining myself to be in the middle of explaining the
situation to someone.
In these examples we see the fundamental role that imagination plays
in the capacity to leave behind the strategies which were previously used
in other learning situations and which are, in distance learning, seen as
ineffective and thus in need of modification. Sometimes, however, the stu-

dents were less advanced in their appropriation of these strategies, and they
noted their helplessness in sticking to the student model that they previously
had in their minds:
[5] Being the 2nd-year postgraduate student that I am, I must now confess
that I print most of the forum discussions, the activities, the links, and
the documents, and I put them in a folder with a multitude of colored
inserts. If I do nothing, I still fear that an important announcement will
escape the clicks of my mouse. It is the obsession of wanting to manage
and master everything. In the next few months, I am most probably going
to need to accept the fact that this is no longer possible, that one cannot
work with this illusion in one’s head.
There is clearly some guilt attached to the lack of respect of what is
implicitly established as the ‘good behaviour’ of the online student. This
emotion is in fact representative of a multitude of others (among which
we find stress, frustration, a feeling of insecurity) that are generated by the
early stages of an online learner’s career. Five students associate discomfort
with interest (in the description of their experience), as in the following
example:
[2] I find the experience oppressive but interesting. To break from one
routine to find another brings about new methods of work and allows me
to really sort out the things I usually do effectively from the ones I do less
effectively.
These impressions reflect the work of Oxford (2003), who maintains
that distance-learning students are more likely to develop strategies than
other students. From a didactic point of view, one possible follow-up would
be to use the diversity of the behaviours described by the students: the
behaviours which, according to them, were the first changes that they had
to make on becoming online learners could be used as a basis for encour-
aging future newly registered students to develop their own method of
learning.
Psycho- and socioaffective level

Winkin (1981) speaks of an ‘invisible college’ to refer to the informal net-
work of researchers who opened up new avenues for studying communica-
tion in the 1970s. Using his idea, we can speak of ‘invisible colleagues’ who
link students online with a learning community. These invisible colleagues
are not only present in their physical absence, but they generate expecta-
tions and interests that are reconfigured by the technologized discursive
mise en scène. In other words the platform as a specific social space sets a
physical scene within which these particular expectations and interests are
enhanced. Throughout the entirety of the short duration of the training
course (6 months), teachers and students are linked by space (discursive
platform space) and time to this type of communication: at any hour, day or
night, one can potentially communicate, responses are possible, and a kind
of quasi-continuous expectation of vigilance or attentiveness is generated,
which is specific to this environment. ‘It is necessary to add to my palpa-
ble social network the reality of a second, virtual network in which I must
regularly make an effort to participate’, says one student.
Conclusion
This chapter has attempted to describe and evaluate the modification in

social dynamics that results from the fact that learning no longer takes
place on-site, but online. The EED of a pedagogical platform exposes stu-
dents to communication methods that often elicit reactions of stress and
insecurity, at least at the start. However, the study revealed that new learn-
ing methods are appearing, making up for the loss of old reference points,
which came from on-site situations, by constructing behaviours that are
adapted to online situations. In relation to the new context of learning,
these sociocognitive adjustments may be facilitated through meta-cognitive
practices enabled by the self-reflection and personal learning strategies that
are necessary when managing one’s path of study alone (Oxford, 1990). The
online student is thus developing identity traits that are different from those
that she or he previously had as an on-site student. Also, a new relationship
to knowledge is being put in place through the dynamics of online learners’
interactions, of which we have shown several aspects such as the change in
the relationship to writing. Finally, new behaviours are arising, for example,
more convivial interpersonal relationships between teachers and students,
and less competitive, more connected, interpersonal relationships between
students. The latter are supported by various communication forms (e-mail,
chat, telephone) as a function of the message to be transmitted. We thus
note that technological mediation includes the majority of practices, as in
the example of ‘Googling’ teachers to find a few bits of information about
their interests.
The findings of this study reveal some of the constituent elements of the
learning cultures of newly networked online learners. Seen from the two
perspectives that are adopted in this chapter (their adjustment to the new
pedagogical environment and their affiliation to their new job of online
learner), these elements can be linked to:
r emotion (e.g. insecurity-provoking contact with the environment, and

the ambivalent feelings about contact with others, both socioaffectively
and in collective tasks);
r heightened awareness of the self in transition, particularly when former
cultures are perceived to conflict with online needs or opportunities
(e.g. in relation to writing, to newfound informality with teachers or to
compensating for the disappearance of physical hallways and embodied
interlocutors).
The asynchronous online student is forging a complete identity; and it is
up to the educational researchers to explore it, in order to better respond
to its specificities.
Notes
1. While the question of whether and how the community is being tracked
may have been in the awareness of more students than just the one
quoted here, and therefore may have played a role in shaping the
collective learning culture, we have not found empirical traces of this
in our data and have therefore had to leave this question aside.
2. This refers to a previous error on my part, in which I caused the content
of the forum to disappear.
Chapter 5
Being and Learning in the Online Classroom:

Linguistic Practices and Ritual Text Acts
Leah P. Macfadyen
University of British Columbia, Canada
The ‘problem’ of online learning
In this chapter, I explore an apparent difficulty in the development of

effective learning cultures in virtual learning environments: the reality that
much of the contemporary literature on educational research and peda-
gogical theory assumes (and, occasionally, insists) that physical presence is
of critical importance for good teaching and good learning. The real-life
encounter is often emphasized as a critical component of effective learning
and intellectual development, and of the development of ‘real’ personal
relationships that support good learning.
Examples abound. Proponents of experiential learning – which rests on
the educational philosophy of John Dewey (1966) – point to the importance
of learners’ corporeal experience in integrating new ideas. Certainly, the
social and intellectual impact of some of the educational movements that
have embraced his ‘learning by doing’ pragmatism cannot be denied: Out-
ward Bound and Service Learning, to name but two. Social constructivists
have meanwhile built on the early work of Vygotsky (1962) and Piaget
(1952) to emphasize the ways in which learners interact with others, and
with their physical environment, to construct new understandings of self and
world. In the realm of transformative learning, for example, Parks Daloz
(2000) reports that meaningful educational encounters with ‘different oth-
ers’ (2000: 112) are critical for perspective transformation and development
of a commitment to social action. It is tacitly understood that meaningful
encounter means embodied physical encounter.
Perhaps even more significant is our understanding of the importance
of social context in learning. Optimal learning environments do not simply
create opportunities for individual learners to engage intellectually with

course materials, or individually encounter their worlds as isolated selves
that lack ‘community, tradition and shared meaning’ (Martin 2004: 25).
Rather, optimal learning environments permit dynamic interaction between
instructors, learners and tasks, and offer learners opportunities to create
their own understanding through interaction with others, highlighting the
importance of community, culture and context in knowledge construction
(Derry 1999; McMahon 1997).
In principle, online learning should offer learners a wider mix of inter-
personal and cross-cultural encounters, over a shorter time span than can be
offered by traditional face-to-face learning environments. But can a virtual
classroom offer learners the kinds of community, collectivity and encounter
with others, necessary for cognitive and intellectual development?
Some educational theorists would argue that it cannot. Most famously
(and perhaps most vehemently), Dreyfus (2001) has argued that learners
cannot possibly experience risk-taking and vulnerability in virtual learning
environments – conditions which he maintains are critical to the develop-
ment of the transactional authenticity required for learning beyond ‘mere
competence’ (Burbules 2002: 390). True mastery, real-world action and
moral commitment, Dreyfus argues (2001), call for an affective intensity in
learning that can only be achieved through embodied presence.
The literature of social psychology might also appear to support Dreyfus’
contention. A growing body of empirical data gathered by investigators in
this field supports the early predictions of social constructivist educational
theorists, and demonstrates that embodiment plays a ubiquitous role in
cognitive processing, both directly and indirectly (Barsalou et al., 2003).
Theories of social embodiment that seek to explain these research observa-
tions point out that the body is extensively involved in all human activity,
and argue that human knowledge is laid down in patterns of situated con-
ceptualization that involves embodied states.
The body, then, is deeply implicated in the social, cultural, experien-
tial and cognitive processes of learning, in ways that might be perceived
to make learning in virtual contexts deeply problematic. Individual bodies
are understood to be the site of interlinked embodied states and cognitive
processes that are triggered by social stimuli (Barsalou et al., 2003). And
in interpersonal encounters, an individual’s authenticity – a term that in
English connotes ‘truth’ and ‘accuracy of (self)representation’ and ‘trust-
worthiness’ – is supposed to be guaranteed by physical presence (Feenberg
1989) and the evidence of the senses.
Cyberspace (and, in particular, virtual learning environments), on the
other hand, remains overwhelmingly ‘a discursive and rhetorical space’
(Nakamura 2002: xiii). Despite recent experiments in the development of
Being and Learning in the Online Classroom 95
graphically represented virtual worlds such as Second Life, cyberspace is still

primarily a ‘written world’ (Feenberg 1989: 23), constructed from written
discourse, or text. In the text-based communications of cyberspace, bodily
markers of identity such as physical attributes and vocal accent, are often
invisible and bodily participation in gesture and ritual is usually impossible.
Zurawski (2000) went as far as to argue that the physical body is, in effect,
‘banned from the Internet’ (n.p.). Concerns therefore persist about the
internet as a problematic site for meaningful learner interaction, reflecting a
historic preoccupation with material elements in the symbolic construction
and representation of self and others.
Tools of authenticity in textual reality
What do we mean by a learning culture? Poster (2001) has asked:
Can there be a form of culture that is not bound to the surface of the
globe, attaching human beings to its particular configurations with the
weight of gravity, inscribing their bodies with its rituals and customs [. . .]?
(2001: 150)
Can there be learning cultures (to paraphrase Poster) that do not depend for
their existence on geographical location or physical presence? If so, how
can we best characterize their nature and development?
Careful reflection on these questions reveals the intimate connection
between individual learner identities and development of a group culture.
Using the word culture complicates the task of characterization, of course,
because of the degree of dispute over its meaning (Williams 1983). The defi-
nition of community is similarly disputed (see, for example, Jacobs 2004). And
yet, I think it can be meaningfully insisted that a culture, however localized,
is a shared feature of a group of some kind, let us call it here a community.
Moreover, communities do not comprise homogeneous anonymous beings,
un-differentiated neutral points between whom communication and inter-
action ‘happens’. Rather, they are a heterogeneous mixture of individuals
who may or may not share common values, worldviews or perspectives.
In considering what a learning culture may imply, Barker’s (1999) rather
utilitarian perspective on culture is useful:
[. . .] there is no “correct” or definitive meaning attached to it [. . .] Cul-

ture is not “out there” waiting to be correctly described by theorists who
keep getting it wrong. Rather, the concept of culture is a tool which is of
more or less usefulness to us [. . .].
(1999: 35)
In a newly established learning environment, diverse learners – already

inscribed with the rituals and customs of other communities to which
they belong – will encounter each other. The idealized expectation is that
they will engage intellectually with peers, course materials and instructors,
through such intellectual performances as elaborating arguments or criti-
cizing ideas. And yet this kind of intellectual performance presupposes a
wealth of background understanding and shared assumptions (‘concepts,
assumptions and methods of argument’ according to Xin and Feenberg
2006: 4) that learners must co-construct if they do not arrive with a com-
mon cultural (and intellectual) heritage.
They must, in other words, co-construct a learning culture in which the
‘rules of engagement’ are understood and shared. Commonly referred to
as a process of ‘negotiating meaning’, this process itself implies the reveal-
ing, sharing and negotiating of differences. That is to say, for a learning
community to develop, for the construction of a learning culture to begin,
learners must first be able to enact their authentic and differing identities
in the learning space.
Investigators concerned with the processes by which virtual learning com-
munities begin to negotiate a shared culture have tended to focus on the
discursive processes of community-building (getting to know each other,
building relationships of trust, bonding around shared tasks or common
experiences and group dynamics evident in virtual (learning) communities
(see, for example, Bucher 2002; Conrad 2002; Oliveira Medeiros 2003).
Some have used conversation analysis, for example, to examine details of
message exchange (who speaks to whom), details of addressivity or pattern-
ing of social networks (Freiermuth 2000; Choi & Danowski 2002; Picciano
2002; Aviv et al. 2003; Reeder et al. 2004). Others have sought to elucidate
learners’ perceptions of social presence in online learning environments as
an indicator of the development of virtual community (Rourke et al. 2001;
Swan & Shih 2005, and references therein).
A growing number of studies have also sought to explore the cultural
context of online learning. As Hewling (2005) points out, however,
[. . .] much of the research into culture as it impacts the online class

situates itself within a paradigm that equates culture with membership in
a particular nation state. Online interaction, for example, is frequently
looked at using interpretations drawn from the work of Hofstede (2001),
Hall (1959, 1966), or Hall & Hall (1990).
In other words, analyses of social context has tended to focus on the

processes and communications between or uniting learners, while inves-
tigations of cultural context have tended to conceive of learners as
representatives of rather essentialized notions of ‘national’ cultures – encul-

tured automatons who arrive in the online classroom pre-programmed with
a nonnegotiable suite of behaviours and communicative preferences.
I will argue here that learners in text-based virtual learning environments
begin the process of co-constructing a virtual learning culture by performing
and sharing their unique virtual identities, and that one of the key strategies
that individuals and newly forming virtual communities make use of in this
process is ritual.
The role of ritual
Sociologist Paul Connerton (1989) has demonstrated in fine detail the

powerful collectivizing role played by ritual in human societies. On the role
of ritual in the construction of collective memory – the communal narrative
of a group – he writes:
Both ritual and myth may quite properly be viewed as collective symbolic
texts; and on this basis one may then go on to suggest that ritual actions
should be interpreted as exemplifying [. . .] cultural values.
(1989: 53)
As with most sociological theory, there is much disagreement about the

exact definition of ‘ritual’. A substantive overview of competing theoreti-
cal perspectives is beyond the scope of this chapter, and these have been
thoroughly reviewed by Bell (1992).
For our purposes here, however, it is useful to consider the definition
proposed by Lukes (1975), who suggests that a ritual is a ‘rule-governed
activity of a symbolic character which draws the attention of its participants
to objects of thought and feeling that they hold to be of special significance’
(1975: 291). Rituals, clarifies Connerton, are repetitive and often stylized;
they are expressive rather than instrumental, and they are expressive ‘by
virtue of their conspicuous regularity’ (1989: 44). Most significant here is
Connerton’s argument that the expressive influence of ritual is not limited
to the ritual moment itself – rather, the expressive power of ritual thoroughly
permeates nonritual action, ‘the whole life of a community’ (1989: 45).
Importantly, although many rituals appear to be a re-enactment or com-
memoration of the past – ‘an explicit claim to be commemorating continu-
ity’ (1989: 45) – Connerton points out that human communities routinely
invent new rituals, ceremonies and commemorations in the rewriting (or
re-interpreting) of collective identity. (For example, he points to the polit-
ically motivated invention by the Republican bourgeoisie in 1880 of a rite
to commemorate Bastille Day, as a means of reasserting France’s collective

identity as ‘the nation of 1789’ (1989: 51).
While most ritual theorists have tended to focus on the bodily practices of
rites and ceremonies, Connerton explores the ways in which language, too,
can be performative and ritualistic. Discussing the linguistic rituals of liturgy,
for example, he points out that liturgy is not a ‘verbal commentary on an
action external to itself [. . .] in and of itself liturgical language is an action’
(1989: 57). Oaths, blessings, curses, recitations, songs, stories, poems and
prayers similarly make use of repeated patterns of syntax, vocabulary and
sequencing, with powerful mnemonic effect. Austin’s (1962) philosophy
of language explains that performative utterances possess ‘illocutionary
force’ – they do not simply offer statements about the world that can be
characterized as true or false. Instead, speech acts, or illocutionary acts,
do something instead of simply saying something: they fulfil a range of
symbolic purposes, including representing the self and the nature of the
self’s relationship with others.
In other words, rituals – corporeal and/or linguistic – are both performa-
tive and creative. They acknowledge and commemorate existing elements
of identity, and they contribute to the construction of new forms, and new
interpretations, of community and collective identity. They allow individuals
to celebrate, maintain and reinforce existing bonds, and they are routinely
employed to create new social and interpersonal bonds.
Ritual might appear, then, to be a perfectly suited strategy for navigating
the tension that virtual learners experience between their need to represent
their existing identities in a new learning context, and the need to collab-
orate with new peers in the construction and enlargement of the common
ground – the learning culture – that is necessary to permit advancement of
the learning agenda.
At first glance, however, the notion of ritual as a community-building
strategy in cyberspace also seems to suffer from the ‘embodiment prob-
lem’ discussed earlier. Bell (1992) and other respected ritual theorists have
written extensively about the crucial involvement of the body in ritual. Bour-
dieu (1990) similarly argues that ritual imposes and inculcates ‘habitus’ in
individuals: our way-of-being in the world that comprises ‘a set of learned
dispositions which the body can express within an appropriate social con-
text’ (Harris 2004: n.p.). ‘The fundamental feature of ritualization is that
its strategies are rooted in the body’, says Harris, and its outcomes are a
‘somatic knowing’ (ibid.).
As early as 1989, however, Feenberg presciently described the ways in
which computer-mediated communication has disrupted the tradition-
ally imagined continuum of communicative forms, which positions writ-
ten, typed, and printed forms of communication as less intimate and less
personal than speech; in this continuum, face-to-face communication has

been assumed to be the most authentic. What Feenberg noticed, with sur-
prise, was that computer-mediated communication did not appear to be
as ‘inhuman’ as it was purported to be, but instead that its ‘lively, rapid
iterations’ are ‘almost lively enough to recall spoken conversation’ (1989:
23). Text-based online communications, he argued, violate ‘our deeply
ingrained cultural assumptions about communication’ (ibid.). I, and others,
have also proposed elsewhere (Yates 1996; Macfadyen 2006) that the lan-
guage of virtual worlds should no longer be viewed simply as text. Though
appearing as print, the writing of the virtual world is ‘text-becoming-speech’
(Macfadyen 2006) and as such, I have proposed that it also has the capacity
to play a performative and creative ritualistic role.
What precedent is there for imagining that rituals might be practiced in
textually mediated virtual spaces? While theorists have historically under-
stood ritual practice to be necessarily embodied, a newer cohort of investiga-
tors has begun to examine ritual practices in online environments (see, for
example, the work of Gregor Ahn and team at the University of Heidelberg,
in the Research Centre ‘Ritual Dynamics’). Langer et al. (2006) have also
usefully begun to describe the process of ritual transfer : ‘the transfer of ritual
from one context into another or – more generally – a change of the context
surrounding the ritual’ (2006: 1). These authors point out that rituals are
dynamic and changing. Changes can be minor modifications or major trans-
formations of ‘one or more of its internal dimensions’ (ibid.) such as ‘script,
performance, structure, communication or mediality’ (Miczek 2007: 7).
Below, I begin to describe how online learners transfer ‘first life’ rituals of
representation, symbolization and collectivization into virtual learning envi-
ronments, transforming practices that might previously have taken place
through embodied action and sensory perception into explicit articulations
in text. Learners re-inscribe their bodies into the text of their communica-
tions, and they participate in an evolving sequence of textual rituals that
serve to expand their common ground – the collection of shared values
and assumptions that are necessary for continuing dialogue and collective
construction of meaning.
Investigating textual practices in online learning
The virtual learning environment

In order to investigate in greater detail the strategies that online learners
employ in a virtual learning environment to construct and sustain their indi-
vidual identities, and negotiate the emerging learning culture with peers,
I examined student communications within a web-based interdisciplinary

online undergraduate course that I designed and collaboratively developed
at The University of British Columbia (UBC), Canada.
The course, Perspectives on Global Citizenship was envisioned as the first in a
new interdisciplinary program collaboratively offered by UBC and four of its
partner universities worldwide: The University of Auckland, New Zealand;
Hong Kong University; The University of Melbourne, Australia; and the
University of Nottingham, England.
In the development phase, the learning objectives that I envisaged for
this course were complex and ambitious. I hoped that it would not only
allow students to acquire more information about global issues, but also
push them to reflect critically and collaboratively on their own assumptions
about how the world works and on their own social and political roles
and responsibilities, locally and globally. In short, I aimed for perspective
transformation (Mezirow 1991). To try to achieve such ambitious goals I
designed the course to foster the ‘engaged collaborative discourse’ that Xin
and Feenberg (2006: 1) propose to be the ideal form of discussion in a
virtual learning environment. As a form of inquiry, these authors suggest,
dialogue plays an important role because it ‘generates intrinsic motives for
participation’ (2006: 4) while permitting learners to work towards consensus
or convergence (Roschelle 1996), reach new understandings of alternative
viewpoints, and employ critical thinking skills (Lipman 1994).
Thus, course materials are explicit about the ‘contested meanings of
global citizenship’ (Roman 2003: 269), and make no definitive claim about
its meaning. Topics within its purview (ranging from ethics to sustainability)
are presented using the Blackboard VistaTM course management system in
twelve weekly modules, for debate, discussion and critical analysis in tutor-
facilitated group discussion forums. Each module offers summary contex-
tualizing pages, links to electronic material (websites, streaming audio or
video presentations), required readings and further resources. Importantly,
modules include points for reflection, positioned as dialogue starters, to
which students are required to respond via a group discussion forum each
week. A minimum of one direct response to the reflection point(s) and one
response to the posting of a class member is required to achieve a participa-
tion score, which forms part of a student’s final grade. Tutors actively facil-
itate the course, and make use of Vista communication tools to promote
critical thinking, reflection on course readings, asynchronous discussion,
and regular written work.
In spite of the rich interdisciplinary content, Perspectives on Global Citizen-
ship is a prime example of the kind of ‘discursive and rhetorical space’ that
Nakamura (2002: xiii) describes, with all learner interaction and commu-
nication mediated via asynchronous text. Key components of the course
(Modules 1–5) explicitly challenge students to consider questions of indi-

vidual, national and cultural identity in relation to theories of global citizen-
ship. And as described below, the student body in each cohort is extremely
diverse, ensuring that no students can assume that they share a common
background or approach to learning with peers. These elements make this
course an especially rich source of text-based communication in which stu-
dents are struggling to articulate and represent elements of identity and
community.
The Learners
Perspectives on Global Citizenship launched in September 2005 with forty-two
students from UBC, Hong Kong University and the University of Melbourne.
It has been offered every term since, to a further 124 students. At the time of
writing, 166 students have completed the course, including 33 (20 percent)
from HKU, 21 (13 percent) from the University of Melbourne, and the
remainder from UBC (including UBC’s new satellite campus, UBC Okana-
gan, in Central BC). Of the total, 53 (32 percent) were male, and 113 (68
percent) were female. The vast majority (128 students, or 77 percent) of
participating students were in the third or fourth year of an undergraduate
degree or higher, including eight postgraduate students and eight unclassi-
fied students completing a fifth or further year of courses; 38 (23 percent)
students reported being in first or second year.
In addition to students participating from their home universities in Van-
couver, Hong Kong and Melbourne, the course also attracted UBC students
on study exchanges in Nottingham (UK), Sydney (Australia) and Western
Australia. Others participated from Montréal (Quebec), and from Japan,
while completing study-related work placements. Learners based in Bahrain,
Bangkok (Thailand), Calgary (Alberta), Victoria (British Columbia) and
Ottawa (Ontario) enrolled in the course through UBC’s Distance Education
program.
In all cohorts, students have represented a diverse ethnic mix that is
masked by simply considering university or national affiliation. In addi-
tion to our Hong Kong Chinese students at HKU, nineteen UBC or Mel-
bourne students characterized themselves as first- or second-generation
immigrants from Hong Kong or China. Other UBC and Melbourne students
self-identified as first- or second- generation immigrants from Egypt, Singa-
pore, the Philippines, the United States, South Africa, Iran, Korea, Poland,
Thailand, Uruguay, Vietnam, Russia, Romania, Malaysia, Korea, India, Pak-
istan, Greece and Singapore. Moreover, the roster included international
students attending UBC on student visas from the United States, Turkey,
Sri Lanka, Russia, Korea, Kenya, Japan, Indonesia, Colombia, Bermuda, the
United Kingdom and Mainland China. Some students have noted religious
affiliations that included Catholic or Protestant Christianity, Islam, Sikhism,
Baha’i and Judaism. Moreover, the course has attracted students from a wide
range of academic disciplines: we enrolled students from degree programs
in Arts, Science, Engineering, Social Sciences, Resource Management, Law,
Government, Business, Education, Nursing, Medicine, Dentistry and Archi-
tecture.
Methodology
To investigate what is happening in our online course, I have used a
grounded theory methodology (Strauss and Corbin 1998 [1990]) to exam-
ine student discussion messages (off-task and on-task) and (anonymous)
student feedback questionnaire responses. I used NVivoTM qualitative anal-
ysis software to identify patterns and themes in the data that shed light on
the ways in which this diverse group of online learners attempt to construct
authentic online identities for themselves as part of the process of negoti-
ating the culture of the new learning space. All learner names have been
changed.
Performing the self in text
Within the spectrum of existing virtual environments that support human

interaction, the online classroom might be viewed as a relatively constrained
venue for digital identity play (that is to say, experimentation with differ-
ent identities, which may be more or less authentic). With identity tied to
institutional registration, payment of tuition fees, and (perhaps of greatest
interest to students?) final grades, one might expect that attempts by learn-
ers to create fake or deceptive identities will be rare. What kind of selves
might our students be constructing in our online classrooms, and how?
In his 1992 work, Oneself as Another , Paul Ricoeur offers an analysis of
the self as divided in a way that reflects the material/virtual dilemma of
virtual identity. Useful for our purposes here, he differentiates between
two distinct notions of identity: Idem-identity, which rests in the physical,
and carries notions of ‘sameness’ and affiliation, and Ipse-identity, better
characterized as ‘selfhood’ (that is, nonphysical, and unrelated to group
affiliation).
In the opening days of the course each term, students are invited to intro-
duce themselves to each other in a Participant Profiles forum, and are asked
to respond to the following questions: Who are you? Where are you? What is
your major field of study? What do you hope to get out of taking this course?
Perhaps unsurprisingly, for a course that is advertised as globally recruiting,
many of our learners initiate their self-introduction process by directly refer-

encing their affiliations with (identity with) established national, regional,
ethnic or ‘racial’ groups:
I am from Manitoba and grew up on the lake . . .

I always notice aspects of myself, of my Australian identity in particular,
that seem enhanced when I’m overseas . . . I feel “more” Australian about
some things.
I am Joan from Kenya
Speaking as somebody from the group, I think Jewishness falls under a
couple of categories.
Learners reiterate their group membership often, but also perform their
affiliations through the use of language clues. One Canadian student adds
a touch of humour by using the stylized Canadian ‘eh’ in a course-based
discussion:
Our diversity, in essence, is our identity, eh?
A Hong Kong student makes use of an insider youth term for Hong Kong
Chinese in discussion of localized practices:
Haha . . . I read online that apparently, it’s a “Honger thing” to wear

T-shirts with a bunch of English words that make no sense whatsoever.
While another seeds her introductory message in several languages as a clue

to her cultural memberships:
Message no. 38
Posted by Laura Thomasson (s65172058) on Saturday, January 7, 2006
5:43 pm Subject: Hi . . . Hola . . . Salam . . .
Very quickly, however, student communications fulfil the claim that essen-
tialized models of national culture are insufficient markers of individual
identity (see, for example, Ess, this book). Students begin to challenge the
utility of such categories by troubling their neat borders, or engaging in
amused performance of newly synthesized identities.
Directly querying our historic conflation of inherited (‘racial’) character-
istics with ethnicity or identity, a Canadian student writes:
I like to think about Canada as place where you can’t visually determine
who is or isn’t Canadian . . .
Another Canadian student expresses his personal frustrations at the limita-

tions of established national identities:
I feel that I don’t know enough about Hong Kong/Chinese culture . . .

and I seriously do not know enough about Canada to call myself a true
Canadian. I’m proud of multiple identities (Canadian-Chinese), but it
makes me feel frustrated a lot of times.
Perhaps most amusing are the ways in which virtual learners perform their
hybrid identities. In the following exchange, Candy, Jonathan and Yuzhu
all present details of their ‘official’ identities as first-generation immigrant
Chinese-Canadians who have lived varying proportions of their lives in Hong
Kong and Canada. These three sprinkle their ‘serious’ introductions with
laughing references to that most quintessential marker of Canadianness:
hockey.
Candy writes:
Hello!! My name is Candy. Yes, home of the junior hockey championship,

right here in Vancouver.
Jonathan, a rather serious schoolteacher, drafts a response that focuses on

WTO riots in Hong Kong, but finished with:
And by the way, Canada is GOLDEN!
And Candy and Yuzhu follow up with:
We rock!!∼∼∼∼
YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
These learners are enacting their Canadianness not only by acknowledging

the subject matter, but also by claiming North American English slang as
their own – classic examples of the ‘performative utterances’ that Austin
(1962) described.
These latter examples seem to bear out Ricoeur’s (1992) argument
that Idem-identity – identity acquired by affiliation and performance of
sameness – fails to help individuals answer the crucial question of identity:
‘Who am I?’ (Vessey 2002). Instead, they support Hewling’s contention that
culture is ‘an ongoing iterative process’ (2005: n.p.) and Street’s proposi-
tion that individuals participate in ‘an active process of meaning making and
contest over definition’ (Street 1993: 25) in development and presentation
of their identities.
Textual ipseity
Rituals of initiation
Patterns of text-as-speech that might be interpreted as ‘ritual text acts’
become more apparent when we explore the language our students use in
construction of their Ipse-identity – their individual selves.
A surprising set of repeated performative utterances appear in the intro-
ductory phase of the course. Newly arrived online, and faced with the task of
(re)building and (re)presenting a virtual identity to a new cohort of peers,
each student, almost without fail, performs two sets of ritualized acts that
seem to counterbalance each other: a performance of credentialing, and a
performance of humility – differentiation and new membership.
Students seem anxious to impress upon their peers or instructors the
degree to which they are qualified to have enrolled in a course about Global
Citizenship. Although it quickly becomes apparent through coursework that
our theoretical approach to this topic does not equate it with world travel
or cosmopolitanism, new arrivals repeatedly emphasize their international
experience, perhaps even vying with each other:
. . . I was born and raised in one of (I think) the big multicultural capitals
in the world . . .Toronto, Canada . . . a place where many ethnic groups
live.
I have lived, taught and administered schools in both Mexico and Spain . . .
and worked as an international project manager in the field of education
in a number of countries.
As for my international experience, I’ve travelled in a number of places,
most recently we were kayaking in Croatia for our honeymoon in October.
I have lived in Vancouver, Toronto and Hong Kong, and have been to 4
of the 7 continents.
They quickly follow this up, however, with clarifications about their newness
to online classrooms:
. . . don’t know really know how to do this . . . or how much to write . . . so

here goes.
This is my first online course as well and I’m trying to get used to it.
Lastly, like many other fellow classmates, this is my first online course so
I’m still experimenting with it.
One is reminded of ritual genuflections towards an altar by worshippers

entering a church. One by one these learners reveal themselves as ‘new’, and
make use of this shared newness as an early step in establishing community
norms or commonality.
As Xin and Feenberg (2006) note, online discussion (like face-to-face

speech), ‘combines many speech acts in each utterance’ (2006: 3). Unsur-
prisingly then, the sample student utterances shown here seem to simultane-
ously perform several purposes, even while the actual content of each state-
ment is relatively unimportant: they highlight persistent individual identity
versus ‘group culture’ tensions by seeking to both differentiate self through
credentials and at the same time initiate membership in the group through
shared experience of newness; and they position selves as ‘experienced’
but also as ‘inexperienced’, begging leniency from the group and from
instructors.
Rituals of resistance
Perhaps the most vivid ritual performances of self in our virtual classroom
take place where learners are at pains to resist or deny what they perceive
as expected learner identity or practices.
Bryan, an experienced online communicator and a mature adult learner,
is unable (or unwilling?) to participate in the ritual of newness that younger
students harness. Instead, he launches himself into a performative resis-
tance of this norm with humour and gusto. Before even initiating his online
discussion postings, this learner made use of the very limited ‘roster’ tool
in the Blackboard Vista course management system to highlight the inade-
quate vision of learner identity that it projects or permits (see Figure 5.1).
Academic Major: Free Speech
Afiliation: Who´ll ever take me
Extra-Curricular Rugby… more rugby… programming….creating websites,

Activities: and rugby
Areas of Interest: Did I mention rugby, pretty decent photographer and videographer,
creating media content on website, I forgot the most important,
single malt scotch whiskey
Title: Old Dude, Zeus, Moses, Hay-zoo
YEAR: It´s 2007 right now, I thought most people knew that,
next year will be 2008
PROGRAM: Yes, I do, thanks for asking, ColdFusion mostly
Figure 5.1 A Mature Learner Pokes Fun At BlackBoard Vista’s ‘Fill in the Blanks’
Roster Tool. (This is an extract from a computer form filled in by a student.)
He also adds a photograph (not shown here), which not only gives clues
to his ethnic origins and hobbies, but also clearly emphasizes his seniority
relative to other students. In on-task and off-task discussion forums, Bryan
repeatedly performs himself as ‘in opposition’, describing himself as a ‘trou-
blemaker’ , an ‘active experimenter ’, a ‘devil’s advocate’ with ‘ulterior motives’ ,
an ‘idealist’ with grassroots affiliations and a visionary with a ‘master plan’
whom we might perhaps want to ‘isolate to his own group’. ‘Let noone accuse me
of being a realist’ he adds, when challenged to explain how his ideas could be
implemented. Indeed, Bryan seems to make a point of polite but pointed
ritual verbal duelling with all three co-instructors in this course whom he
characterizes as ‘our esteemed professors’.
Bryan’s unrelenting performance of self-in-resistance, his repeated posi-
tioning of himself as an experienced professional instructing classmates
(rather than as a peer), illustrates the extent to which we rely on our inter-
relations with others in the positioning of ourselves. It appears that it is not
sufficient for Bryan to ‘know’ these aspects of his own history and identity;
rather, he seems compelled to repeatedly perform these aspects of himself
within the virtual learning environment so that they can be acknowledged
and reflected back to him by others.
In his hermeneutics of selfhood (Ipse-identity), Ricoeur (1992) describes
the role of ‘attestation’ – the ‘belief’ of truth or certainty about self. Attes-
tation is a testimony, a form of self-witnessing that is performed through
repeated (ritualized) speech acts by the individual self. It is, he argues, an
assurance that the self believes in the truth or validity of being oneself,
acting and suffering (Vessey 2002). Bryan’s ritual attestation, performed in
text-as-speech, not only allows him to construct a dynamic and narrative
self-identity, it defines his own self as the agent of this self-constructive act.
His determination to perform his own self in opposition to existing models
reminds one of Bell’s (1997)( proposition that one of the many functions of
ritual is to act as a means of ‘struggling over control of the sign’ (1997: 89).
Ritual performance of new community

In the active process of identity construction in the online classroom, online
discussions are the ‘nexus of cultural production’ (Reeder et al., 2004: 89)
and the visible manifestation of individual interactions between learners and
the elements that make up the online context: peers, instructors, delivery
platform, course materials and institutional culture (Hewling 2005). Hewl-
ing makes use of Gee’s (2000) notions of ‘enactive’ and ‘recognition’ work
in the construction of meaning. According to Gee, enactive work describes
the efforts individuals make to organize contextual elements and accord
them value and meaning, while recognition work describes the responses
of others who may agree or disagree. Within the context of this online
course, I observe students enacting a range of ritual performances of ‘new’
and shared identities (proposing, for example, new choices and behaviours
that they seek to integrate), and repeated rounds of recognition work as
classmates query or reinforce these.
For example, towards the end of the course, one student writes:
. . . as global citizens we can either be complicit or critical. By pointing the

finger at ourselves (or at least Canadians in particular), we are no longer
a passive audience in global issues but active participants.
And a classmate responds, recognizing and acknowledging this identity

claim:
Who knows, we may even be able to become some sort of influential

group . . . perhaps the first true “Global Citizens”.
Exemplifying the evolving sense of community, learners increasingly write

about we, rather than I .
Writing the body back in
Xin and Feenberg have argued that dialogue ‘is not merely a cognitive
process, but involves the whole person’ (2006: 16), and Barsalou et al. (2003)
have drawn on a decade of data to propose that knowledge is integrated as
whole body conceptualizations acquired in embodied situations of learning.
Embodied conceptualizations later play critical roles in knowledge retrieval
and memory: embodied states (induced by new social stimuli) appear to
trigger previously integrated conceptualizations (‘knowledge’). With the
body so clearly implicated in cognition, what hope do our virtual learners
have of acquiring new knowledge in the disembodied virtual classroom?
I examined our students’ writing and feedback for evidence of their
reaction to disembodied learning. Some students do make comments jux-
taposing our virtual classroom with their ‘real classes’, referencing the com-
monplace notion that what is ‘virtual’ is not ‘real’. As in Bayne’s (2004)
study, some indicated a wish for more sensory input – pictures, real-time
communication, physical meetings – and one or two implied that the online
learning experience was ‘lacking’ something.
As I continued to investigate student discussions for evidence of feel-
ings of disembodiment, however, I increasingly encountered incidences of
‘body speech’. Over and over again – indeed, in a fashion that is ‘conspic-
uously regular’, to echo Connerton’s (1989: 44) characterization of ritual –
these learners write about ‘speaking’ and ‘listening’ and ‘hearing from
each other’; about ideas being ‘eye-opening’; about the value of multiple
‘voices’; about ‘seeing’ new paths through complexity; about ‘dipping their
toes into new knowledge’; about ‘digesting’ ideas; about ‘grabbing on’ to
new abstractions. Occasionally, students articulate overt ‘stage directions’
to invoke an embodied posture and its related meaning:
OK [eyes downcast looking suitably chastised], I guess they’re special . . .
What is going on? A clue, I feel, is contained in this student’s reflection,

midway through the course, on his struggle to adapt to the virtual classroom:
My idea of classroom has been sitting at a lecture hall and talking to

classmates and instructor face to face, so in many occasion I find the
course unreal and difficult to incorporate into real situation. [My emphasis]
I contend that this student and others are reporting on their gradual adap-
tation to the new forms of embodiment that exist in virtual learning spaces.
Initially, they seek out (or report the lack of) familiar embodied patterns
of learning and interacting. As the course continues, their increasingly fre-
quent use of ‘body speech’, reflects, I feel, a new comfort with the embodied
habits and practices of the virtual classroom.
More than 40 years ago, McLuhan argued that new technologies extend
the body and the senses outside of ourselves and into what he called ‘the
social world’, bringing about ‘new ratios among all of our senses’ (1962:
41). Importantly, he said:
when the sense ratios alter [. . .] then what had appeared lucid before
may suddenly become opaque, and what had been vague or opaque will
become translucent.
(ibid.)
Our students use new textual rituals to feel their way through this opacity,
until they reach a level of comfort with the set of ‘incorporated practices’
(Hayles 1999) of the online classroom, and can practice new and different
embodiments.
It takes time and practice to ‘incorporate’ oneself online. Echoing Xin
and Feenberg (2006), this student demonstrates a new understanding of
her online self:
Sometimes flexibility may act as a temptation for me to work on some other urgent
things instead of involving my whole self here. [My emphasis]
That is to say, it is not virtuality, but the everyday student problem of time
management that sometimes prevents total involvement of her ‘whole self’
in the learning environment.
Another student vividly illuminates the connection between stimulus,

embodied response and cognition that Barsalou et al. (2003) describe:
I just wanted to thank you for sharing that story. It’s really given me shivers
up my spine. Also made me think a lot.
As reported in many of the studies reviewed by these authors, social stimuli

(‘that story’) produced an embodied effect and a new cognitive/affective
state, even when mediated through text.
The implications for learning
It appears, then, that in this virtual learning environment, learners have

transferred and transformed ‘first life’ rituals of identity formation and
community building into forms that exemplify (new) cultural values, as
Connerton (1989) suggests. Learners perform themselves through a range
of ritual text-as-speech acts that do not simply describe pre-existing identity
but also construct it. Transferring elements of real life rituals (for example
the use of coded language) to the virtual space, they ritually restate details
of their ethnic or national membership (or nonmembership) in order to
clarify or trouble the identity they possess through a range of other group
affiliations, attesting their individual identities in relation to others. They
participate in new rituals – cycles of enaction and recognition of new shared
identities – as they perform and renegotiate their virtual selves. And they
practice new textual rituals that permit new forms of embodiment in the
virtual classroom. Together, these practices help learners establish authen-
tic virtual identities – identities that they and others experience as true,
trustworthy and accurate representations of the self. After all, as Connerton
illustrates, rituals are not merely formalized repetitions performed by unin-
volved actors; participants in some sense feel them to be obligatory, and
participation in a rite is always, in a sense ‘an assent to its meaning’ (1989:
45).
Establishment of learner identities allows development of a learning
community to begin. Learners in this course comment spontaneously and
repeatedly on their surprise at the social and relational aspects of their
course experience, and about the impact and value of their online encoun-
ters with international classmates:
. . . Being able to interact with people and being exposed to different opin-
ions and cultural ideas from people around the world. Greatest learning
experience I’ve ever had. . . . The involvement and interest from every-
one. I thought that there was a risk with an online subject that people
wouldn’t give it much effort or thought because you can hide behind a
computer screen, but in reality the involvement level is probably better
than in most of the “real” classes I have been in.
Importantly, learner comments demonstrate that this virtual learning com-

munity had developed a learning culture in which they felt able to take risks
and make mistakes, or express dissent. They indicate that course discussions
facilitated the development of trust, solidarity, security and empathy that a
range of learning theorists insist is necessary for trying on another point of
view.
Initially I was very hesitant in everything I wrote, I didn’t want to sound

like I didn’t know what I was talking about. But, I have started to realize
that isn’t so bad, as this is a course, and I’m supposed to be learning.
These students seem to intuit that social interaction contributed to their

learning in important ways, without being able to clearly articulate why. I
suggest, then, that virtual learning environments allow learners to extend
not just their minds, but also their bodies and senses, outside of themselves
and into new relations with the social worlds they encounter in virtual
spaces.
I therefore agree with Dreyfus (2001) and others that true mastery and
meaningful learning can only be achieved through an embodied educa-
tional encounter. I simply believe that they are quite wrong in their asser-
tions that online learners are disembodied. On the contrary, students in
this virtual learning environment demonstrate vividly their adaptation to
the new embodied practices of the virtual classroom. By writing their bod-
ies back into the virtual context, our learners have access to a venue that
permits new forms of subjectivity (Harris 2004). Moreover, learners clearly
describe ways in which they have integrated new aspects of identity, devel-
oped in the virtual classroom, into embodied practices in their local physical
contexts:
I think that I am doing well by taking the bus everywhere. I hardly com-
mute by car at all and if I do, there is always more than one person in the
car.
Because of this course I decided to do some volunteer work with poor,
teenage moms and I see the poor with “new eyes” . . . I am also making
more environmentally friendly choices when it comes to lifestyle etc., and
looking closer at the products I buy, where they are made etc.
I know I am changing the way I do things and think because of this
course. More importantly, I am also discussing these issues with friends
and family who don’t do this course, which means a flow-on effect.
In conclusion, while Xin and Feenberg (2006) have identified four layers
of important communicative interaction in online discussion (intellectual
engagement, communication and common ground, dialogue and motiva-
tion, and group dynamics and leadership), I suggest that there is a fifth layer
that underpins all of these: the layer of utterances that construct individual
identities and thus permit the establishment of a new learning community
with a shared learning culture.
To paraphrase Rheingold’s (1993) famous observation, by creating iden-
tities, you help create a world:
. . . this class was different in a big way. Whereas in other classes, you can
do readings and assignments, get the 3 credits and that’s it . . . walk away
. . . I felt like suddenly we’ve identified ourselves not only as students but
active participants in what we’re learning through the concept of global
citizenship. Global citizens seemed like an abstract idea at first but slowly
I think we realized that we were talking about ourselves. [My emphasis]
Chapter 6
Technology as a ‘Cultural Player’ in Online

Learning Environments
Anne Hewling
Background
A report published at the dawn of the twenty-first century (by Farrell,

for The Commonwealth of Learning), noted that ‘virtual education is an
extremely dynamic phenomenon’ (Farrell 2001: 1) and there is little sign
of this changing while yet more ways are found to deliver learning without
the necessity for face-to-face interaction or a bricks-and-mortar meeting
place for those involved. Individuals or groups of learners can now not
only access education ‘anywhere, anytime’ that they can find a place to
access the internet – as early providers boasted – but they can also find it on
the way to or from anywhere via mobile phones, PDAs and other wireless
devices.
Access ‘anyhow’ is increasingly an option too, thanks to Web 2.0
applications, which package and personalize content and communication,
and create online spaces that eliminate the need for any offline resource
or commitment apart from a period of time to participate. Early virtual
learning environments, which relied on discussion boards that would
permit asynchronous communication, are no longer the only solution to
distance or time difference. Podcasting, blogs, wikis and instant messaging
allow yet further blurring of space and place parameters. Access by ‘anyone’
is also facilitated by the plethora of potential access points once mobile
devices, especially mobile phones, are capable of formatting educational
content. As a consequence, areas of the developed and developing worlds
where electricity or terrestrial telephone resources are limited become
reachable.
As online learning moves on from meaning simply delivery of text-based

distance course materials via the internet, what are the implications for
conceptualising ‘technology’ as a player in online education, and, in turn,
how does technology relate to learning cultures in online classes?
Characterizing the online class
At the time the Commonwealth of Learning report was published, discus-

sion of the nature of virtual learning environments focused around the
degree of online activity. Postle (2002) described them as ranging from
‘supplemental or adjunct’ (where online activities are far from being the
primary medium of instruction), through ‘mixed mode’, where instruc-
tion is both online and face-to-face (referred to by others as ‘blended’), to
‘wholly online’ where no other medium of instruction is used (2000: 4).
Postle further noted that wholly online environments were (then) few but
their numbers were increasing. Others acknowledged the arrival and poten-
tial of the virtual but recorded how use of it was not (yet) extensive (Crook
and Light 2002: 154). Less than a decade later it is hard to find a terrestrial
educational institution at any level that does not make use of online edu-
cational applications to some extent; many are also offering wholly online
versions of complete programmes and qualifications.
The nature of what users do with and within these environments is evolv-
ing too. Martin Dougiamas, originator of Moodle (only one of several major
virtual learning environment, or VLE, software platforms) reported in a pre-
sentation to staff at the UK Open University in 2005 that their new Moodle
installation was then one of 7,500 registered sites located across 142 coun-
tries. By October 2006 Moodle reported, via their website, expansion to 160
countries, over 17,000 registered sites and nearly 7 million registered users.
By the end of 2007, user figures stood at over 33,000 installations and nearly
14 million users. Downloads of the software began to fall a little over the
following year, which suggests that the spread of sites may be in decline but
that use of existing sites is intensifying and, presumably, the balance of stu-
dent users in any one institution is still growing. Whereas just a decade ago
online learning was touted as the new way of delivering distance education –
and there is no doubt that it has broadened access options for many remote
users – the vast majority of presently online students are campus-based and
benefiting as much from time flexibility as from distance or place flexibility.
Characterizing the online class is further complicated by the new ver-
sions of software programs underpinning virtual learning and teaching that
appear regularly and with increasing frequency. The basic design structure
of many systems, as evidenced by their specifications, is modelled on a
Technology As a ‘Cultural Player’ in Online Learning Environments 115
virtual relocation of a particular version of face-to-face learning environ-

ment familiar to many North American and European users. In the Black-
boardTM environment, for example (used by some students quoted later
in this chapter), the space for synchronous group working is referred to as
the ‘virtual classroom’. The tutor management tools are the ‘control panel’
(despite claims that this is a learner-centred environment), and the structur-
ing of electronic links between those areas designed for small group work,
and those for whole class activity, betrays an assumption that predominantly
the class will be directed by a single tutor who will periodically allocate
students to smaller, short-term, exclusive-access, subgroups.
As in other learning contexts, those learning environments to be found
online feature learners; subject content; tools and those who facilitate the
activities of the learners (and use of the content and tools). However, the
roles these all play virtually may differ. Online, for example, primary respon-
sibility for delivery of course content usually passes from teacher to delivery
platform. In general, text-based language is used to facilitate interaction
between all of the elements in an online learning context. Time becomes
a tool to manipulate relationships between elements in new ways. This is
mainly an asynchronous world, not just across time zones in cases where the
class is globally recruited, but also in response to individual preference and
circumstance within a single geographic location. In this environment learn-
ers may remain invisible for any or all of their time in class, since they will
appear to others only when they make an electronic mark (Kaplan 1995) –
perhaps by posting text messages in order to interact with colleagues –
although their existence may be sensed in other ways at other times. Asyn-
chronicity facilitates the persistence of interactional activity – at least for the
duration of the course. Interpersonal exchanges such as discussion board
postings may continue to be available for participants to view throughout
later discussion in a way that is not possible in transient face-to-face interac-
tion. And the facility to review and reflect may assist learners to construct
knowledge in a more meaningful way (Cannone-Syrcos & Syrcos 2000: 175).
Collaborative working supports such knowledge building and this is made
easier by combining synchronous and asynchronous tools in innovative ways
so that physical and temporal distance is bridged (Postle 2002: 4). In turn,
this collaboration supports what Lave and Wenger (2002[1990]) refer to
as ‘situated learning’ and may more accurately reflect patterns of work-
place collaboration, such as team working, thereby giving learning more
real-world relevance.
To summarize: the online learning context allows flexible routes to knowl-
edge construction via textualized interaction (e.g. see Macfadyen in this
book) and collaboration between variably visible and present participants,
across asynchronous and other new kinds of time.
Ideas of technology online
Despite appearing to operate entirely virtually, online learning environ-

ments are strictly rooted in the physical world since, ultimately, activity
within them is constrained by the hardware required to create them; no
activity can take place without it. This may seem obvious but is far from
simple in practice. To date, research into virtual education ranges from
comparative studies of learning with and without technology, to delibera-
tions – by philosophers such as Burbules (2000), Dreyfus (2001) and Ess
(2002b) – on the impact of technology on education. Debates about the
role of technology in education are not new but resurface with the introduc-
tion of each successive new tool. They have concentrated, generally and, as
most famously exemplified by the debate between Clark (1983) and Kozma
(1991), around the relative importance of the medium of instruction ver-
sus the way in which messages are presented. In particular, in 1983, this
discussion led Clark to take the view (subsequently extensively quoted and
disputed) that the medium of delivery has no more impact on learning
outcomes ‘than the truck that delivers our groceries causes changes in our
nutrition’ (Clark 1983: 445). Kozma refuted this stance by arguing that dif-
ferent media had different effects on learning, some being better suited
to particular subjects, or styles, than others (Kozma 1991: 179). With the
arrival of a virtual delivery option for education, much debate tended to
congregate around two ideas: technological instrumentalism (technology
as a value-free tool), and technological determinism (technology as a force
in itself). In practice, these ideas are not easily defined or distinguished
one from the other. Nor, as the next paragraphs will show, can they be seen
simply as oppositional.
Technological instrumentalism refers to an assumption that technology,
presumably because it is not human, is somehow neutral, in culture and
value: an ‘empty vessel’. In this way it is believed that it does not influ-
ence the content of that which it transmits. This is neither a new idea nor
specific only to computer-mediated communication (CMC), and returns to
the assertion by Clark (above). The idea is also heavily refuted by many
studies of practice. Warschauer (1999), for example, points out (in a study
of electronic literacies in Hawaii) that the technologies used by the stu-
dents he followed could not be considered neutral, ‘rather they were
shaped by their historical designs and uses’ (1999: 175). VLE design, as
discussed above, incorporates many Western academic assumptions. Par-
ticularly, norms of behaviour such as the expectation that staff and stu-
dents will communicate freely, and assumptions about what is appropri-
ate assessment, underlie the design of discussion board and quiz features
in VLEs such as BlackboardTM and WebCTTM . These norms can generate
ideological conflict for non-Western learners holding alternative values as

well as causing problems within groups of Western users who simply do not
share those ideologies.
The perspective known as technological determinism is the view that
‘technology and whatever effects follow in its wake possess their own
autonomous power, one that cannot be resisted or turned by individual or
collective decisions’ (Ess 2002b: 222). This implies that the use of new tech-
nology, by seeming to instantiate free speech, individual control and a break-
ing down of the barrier of distance, must inevitably lead to the creation of a
global, democratic village. This is a particularly attractive idea for many of
those using technology to deliver education since it implies that this form of
programme delivery is inherently empowering, although practice suggests
that the reality is somewhat different; that technology is frequently suscepti-
ble to control by human will and inclination and may be taken and adapted
for use in particular contexts: ‘CMC technologies are ambiguous [. . .] these
technologies may lead either to greater or less democracy and equality,
depending on social and individual choices – that is, on the social context
of use’ (Ess 2002b: 226). And – as we see also from Warschauer’s study –
online class users can, and do, ‘struggle to appropriate technologies for their
own ends’ whatever cultural backgrounds they may come from (1999: 175).
Others have theorized further adaptations or versions of these concepts
in an effort to better explain the variations and complications of actual
practice. For example, four ‘epistemological orientations to the impact of
cyberspace on society’ are claimed by Gayol and Schied (1997: 1): ‘techno-
rational’, ‘techno-utopic’, ‘oppositional’, and ‘critical’ but close examina-
tion reveals that only the ‘critical perspective’, ‘focused on particular topics
but framed in global concerns such as gender, language dominance, nation-
alism, colonialism and culture, access and learning’ (1997: 3), actually offers
a significantly new epistemological perspective. Investigations undertaken
by Gayol and Schied lead them to conclude that unless a critical stance
is taken in the development of computer-mediated communication power
iniquities found in face-to-face education will simply extend into the virtual
educational world; what technology can or can’t do is only a fraction of a
wider problem.
A further perspective on this comes from Lankshear et al. (2002) who sug-
gest that the ‘very status of knowledge, learning, teaching and researching
[is challenged by] the double impact of rapid and far-reaching technologi-
cal change and the massive assault on longstanding narratives of foundation
and legitimation’ (2002: 16, original emphasis). This implies that current
questions about the practices and beliefs of the past, combined with the
arrival of new technology, fundamentally question previous ideas about
what is, and is not, valuable or valued knowledge. This cannot be avoided in
debating issues of technology; any idea that technology is simply a passive

accessory or delivery system must therefore be rejected.
Design issues – old habits and assumptions and new pressures
The tendency for the design of online learning environments to mimic the
western face-to-face model has already been noted. And, despite the rapid
development of social Web 2.0. tools, which facilitate new styles of commu-
nication between users, the core features of VLEs remain largely constant
(such as, for example, the features of Blackboard mentioned earlier). The
reasons for this are several and interconnected. They include the competi-
tive nature of market forces for, since developers are working commercially,
they must find a product that is widely recognizable and sufficiently uni-
versal to be of interest to a large enough market to ensure profitability.
The funding of many educational institutions (public and private) may also
drive potential purchasers of new licences to justify expenditure decisions
by means of making comparisons, and thereby inadvertently encourage
designers to mimic each other.
There is also the influence of the education markets in which user insti-
tutions are operating. Where funding depends on the externally perceived
quality outputs (by Government departments, school boards, etc.), assess-
ment systems will be designed to produce the kinds of outcomes that provide
convincing quantifiable results and this will, in turn, drive both the way that
online learning is delivered and decisions about how learning is assessed. It
is interesting to note that one of the key statistics offered to visitors to the
Moodle development website is the latest update on the number of quizzes
created by users worldwide. Arguably quizzes are one of the least innovative
and least flexible features of any VLE. Use of them may be seen as oppo-
sitional to agendas of continuous assessment and other holistic techniques
for evaluating student endeavour (as a way of recognizing individual learn-
ing styles and preferences), presently found within national qualification
schemes in many of the western education systems, which are the chief
consumers of VLE technology. A notable example of this conflict is the
‘e-portfolio’ where students are asked to assemble an electronic collection
of their work over the whole time span of their studies in order that evalua-
tion does not concentrate solely on episodic tests or assessments.
Equally, VLEs are programmed by developers – not educators. That is not
to suggest that there is no educational input to VLE design, rather to explain
the persistence, in terms of design, of the face-to-face model online – as a
representation of what an outsider (i.e. designer) might suppose important
in a learning environment. Fanderclai (1995) suggests that this design is:
rooted in traditional notions of what education is and is not. A University

or other organization may feel forced to create a virtual representation of
a “real” university in order to make their MUD [the virtual environment]
appear a legitimate educational endeavour to those who do not under-
stand its nature or purpose and yet control the funding.
(1995: 8)
It is noteworthy that so many years after that statement was made cur-
rent VLE design has changed little and, despite experience and use, the
well-entrenched one-to-many transmission model persists. There is also an
increasingly prevalent assumption that delivery via the VLE is a kind of
‘grown up’, more mature, version of distance education and that, in a con-
text where face-to-face is viewed as an ideal or norm for learning, the virtual
can offer students at a distance the opportunity to experience something
more equivalent to the ideal. Using a VLE positions the online classroom as
a positive improvement on a previous environment (i.e. a print-based one),
which is seen as deficient. In particular, by adding a variety of tools, which
support interaction and collaboration, isolation, which has been viewed as
the prime deficiency (Bernard et al. 2004) of a solitary learner environment,
is assumed to be remedied.
In practice, a number of assumptions are left unchallenged by this ideal,
not the least of which is that distance learners are lonely and isolated with-
out the possibility for interaction with tutors and peers. Many have the
opportunity for other interaction (perhaps telephone or face-to-face tutori-
als, occasional day schools or synchronous online conferencing, etc.); albeit
not on the same scale as might occur if they were campus-based learners. As
one of this author’s students reflected in interview: ‘we talked about “lonely”
learners and I actually challenged that because as an independent learner
I wasn’t “lonely”, I was “only”, but I wasn’t “lonely”’ (Hewling, 2006: 185).
Although delivery platform design seems to be wedded to very particular
(i.e. Western cultural) ideas about how education is to be done, there are
nonetheless many attempts to make it more palatable to individual learn-
ers. Some designers offer versions to cater for particular markets based
on perceived specific geographic or cultural issues. So, for example, a stu-
dent interface may feature drop-down menus rather than icons if these
are believed to better suit a particular group of students. VLE designers
must also take into account that these environments are social contexts in
which students and teachers have to seek actively to make sense of what is
expected of them. Passive acceptance of the online class as simply a new
place to be in class is not enough (Ponti & Ryberg 2004). Adjusting to the
new location is challenging and may mean that designers need to ‘guide
a community’s culture to emerge from the user’s co-creation of narratives
[. . .] users should own the cultural co-creation process’ (Raybourn et al.

2003: 106), such that a new model, a ‘third culture’ evolves:
The “third culture” is what is created from an intercultural interaction

when persons from different cultures communicate equitably and with
respect for the other such that the emergent culture reflects appropriate
input from each interlocutor. A third culture is the co-creation of meaning
in which all interlocutors are participants as well as co-owners.
(2003: 106)
Culture online
If a third culture, or some kind of new shared social space is the contribu-
tion that technology must make to an online classroom then what signifies,
and what is significant about, culture in that context? How can it be recog-
nized and what is its role? Is it indeed the site of a ‘third culture’? Many
investigations of culture in online learning have tended to adopt one of
two approaches. The first suggests that culture is something vested in the
users of a system – particularly the learners – on the basis of their country
of origin. Culture here is assumed to be something which comes online
with learners, and which will predict closely how they will behave when
they get online. The second builds on this approach in order to suggest
that success online may depend on how well the online environment is
designed to complement the norms and practices of the user’s cultural
background, either in terms of nationality or broader ethnic origins. Pro-
ponents of this approach draw on the work of researchers like Hofstede
(2001) and Hampden-Turner and Trompenaars (2000) to support their
positions although, curiously, the data used in those original studies came
from neither online nor educational contexts. The effects of using such
‘essentialist’ analyses have been mixed since there are other questions to
which neither approach can provide responses.
There is, for example, the issue of the unit of analysis when deciding
what constitutes a culture – ‘cultures do not talk to each other, individuals
do’ (Scollon and Wong-Scollon, 2001:138) – and, as individuals operating
in a small group, the chances that any one person may both affiliate
themselves with a single national culture and do so in the way suggested
by Hofstede’s profile for that nation will be very small. There will obviously
be differences in learner experiences of the online class, which can be
associated with generalized nation-based phenomena (e.g. understandings
of the role of the tutor drawn from a shared experience of a particular
face-to-face national education system), but assuming homogeneity on all
issues on the basis of agreement on one (i.e. nationality) is not helpful

(see also Ess in this book). Nationality-based ideas of culture lead to a view
of the online class as a multiplicity of mono-cultures (i.e. each individual
belongs to the culture of their nationality, which may well be different
from that of any other classmate), and looking at that class then becomes
a matter of comparing one group of learners with another in order
to establish difference. This limits the way culture can be understood,
since what may be an otherwise successful classroom, where interaction
and learning are happening and where the intended learning outcomes
materialise, is thus positioned, culturally, as dissonant. This also implies
that in some ways at least it is deficient, since although successful in terms
of learning, some cultural differences and needs arising from these are not
addressed.
Equally such approaches assume homogeneity among members of any
one (national) culture. This is a debatable idea. Acceptance denies any
chance of recognition of individual difference within the group. In one
apparently homogeneous Canadian online class, for example, the volume
and content of individuals’ message postings varied considerably between
class members from different ethnic groups – individual differences were
not subsumed into the broader pattern of national culture as might have
been predicted (Chase et al. 2002). Similar issues have also been reported
in a New Zealand context (Morse 2003). Both these countries have a pop-
ulation with diverse ethnic origins and it is clear that there are several sets
of cultural norms at play in the classes in these studies. In the case of the
Canadian class, the norms of being Canadian are co-located with the norms
of the national identities acquired from parental/family influences and so
forth within which individual students live daily, while also being Canadian.
This is not just an issue affecting First Nations Canadians, a high percentage
of all Canadians have one or both parents born outside Canada (see Mac-
fadyen, this book). Furthermore, ‘Canadian’ identity includes association
with French and English languages and cultures. Looking beyond Canada
and New Zealand, the trend towards greater movement of people around
the globe means that the idea, and practice, of belonging to more than one
national culture is no longer unusual and ‘cultural identities are not mutu-
ally exclusive’ (Campbell 2000: 32). Case studies from South Africa, Canada
and Australia suggest too that this is not a barrier to success in education
generally, ‘cultural code-switching’ is widely practiced and a sought after
skill in an internationalized economy (Campbell 2000: 37).
There is a third way of understanding culture online, one which adopts
the principle that culture is ‘not an experimental science in search of law
but an interpretive one in search of meaning (Geertz 1973: 5). Thus culture
cannot be adequately conceptualized without some idea of what it is doing:
[. . .] “culture” as signifying process – the active construction of meaning

[. . .] Culture is an active process of meaning making and contest over
definition, including its own definition. This, then, is what I mean by
arguing that Culture is a verb.
(Street 1993: 25)
Adopting this analysis ‘culture’ evolves over time, not in the sense of reach-
ing an ultimate definition or conclusion, but as an ongoing process of sense
making at any particular point in time, within a particular context, and from
a particular individual viewpoint (Gee 2000: 188–89). Ideas arising from
understandings of national culture will form a part of the resources avail-
able to participants in their ‘doing’ of a situation like the online class, but
will not be the only frame of reference they draw upon. Likewise, depending
on what exactly is being done (i.e. what meanings are being constructed
at any one time), ideas from one particular cultural frame of reference or
another will vary in significance. In the context of the online class, partici-
pants will draw on their store of frames of reference for education, as they
would do in a face-to-face class, but the resultant activity will be different
in each case as each context is different. Equally, they must also draw on
their personal frames of reference for technology in the process of meaning
making (Hewling 2006).
Understanding culture in an online classroom is therefore a matter of
examining the processes at work in that particular context. But, ‘situations
(contexts) do not just exist. Situations are rarely static or uniform, they are
actively created, sustained, negotiated, resisted and transformed moment
by moment through ongoing work’ (Gee 2000: 188). Taking this approach,
work includes activity and interaction, which serves to organize contexts
and determine what can or cannot be done within them, etc. (Gee calls this
‘enactive’ work) as well as the efforts of others to endorse that activity or over-
turn it when they see the context differently (what Gee calls ‘recognition’
work). Work by the participants in the context, and which expresses their
individual perspectives, acts to evolve the context forward and in different
directions. Furthermore, the ability of participants to change (or reinforce)
the meaning and/or value of a context will depend on the role(s) that they
see themselves as playing in any particular context, or the role(s) that they
are accorded there by other participants. Roles are not fixed. In fact, they
may more usefully be thought of as ‘positions’ (Harré & van Langenhove
1999: 1) because they bend and evolve in response to the activity of the
context in which they are being played out.
For example, in the online classroom the roles of tutor and student will be
maintained not just by labelling different players with these titles, but also
through the activities players undertake, or don’t, as they enact and develop
those roles. Furthermore, ‘speaking positions are relational’ (ibid.), since in

order for one position to be seen and recognized by participants as having
power in a context, others must be seen as powerless. This attribution of
power is not fixed but may change as the context evolves in response to the
positioning of participants. In the context of a discussion between a tutor
and a student, for example, the positions of ‘student’ and ‘tutor’ offer differ-
ent rights in terms of what either can say. The same words used by either will
have a different social meaning according to the position they are holding
when they say those words (1999: 17) and the context in which they are
saying them. Taking this approach to understanding culture online, diver-
sity and individual difference are not just acknowledged by being labelled
with the name of one nation or another, but are recognized as contributing
actively to interaction and the evolution of a dynamic class culture.
The practice of culture and technology in one online classroom
How then, as online learning evolves, should technology be conceptualized

as a player in online education and, in turn, how does technology relate to
online class culture? What can be concluded from the practice of an actual
online class? This section will consider an investigation into the working of
one course – a module within a masters in open and distance learning – in
order to see what conclusions can be drawn from practice.
The students in the class in question were globally recruited educa-
tion practitioners with varying subject specialisms and varied experience
of online and distance education. They were studying one module of
a possible eight or twelve (depending on prior experience) needed to
complete a masters degree in open and distance learning in an Aus-
tralian university. They were a mixed group – in terms of gender and
levels of prior experience of online learning. The course used a Black-
board delivery platform with areas for content (downloadable); discus-
sion boards and other communications tools; small group work and stu-
dent support tools – access to the online library, etc. Different data col-
lection methods and analytic techniques were used to investigate cul-
ture in this class, such as content analysis of student messages (Hewling
2005), analysis of online activity logs and one-to-one interviews with stu-
dents and tutors (Hewling 2006).
Discussion and interpretation

‘Technology’ emerged as a core theme in analysis of data collected from
this class. The ‘technology bump’ (named as such by one of the students)
was the first hurdle that confronted students as they sought to get online.
Overcoming this involved mastering hardware and software in order to
gain access to the class web pages. Technology remained a hurdle. Despite
students’ expectations that their previous experience of computing and
other online environments would assist them in the new context, for many
this experience proved insufficient or inadequate; dealing with technology
in this class was something that extended well beyond the simple mastery
of IT skills.
In particular, the class could not have existed without technology. But, it
also had difficulty maintaining itself as a class because of that dependence on
technology. The University had provided students with guidelines on the
technical requirements for getting online, but even when equipped with
all the items the University advised, the students still could not be certain
that they would get access to, or be able to use, all the resources that were
(theoretically) available to them. Meanwhile the University had to assume
that students would indeed have full access to all the programme options
on offer.
There was frequently confusion in the minds of the students over the
authority relationship between the university and the Blackboard delivery
platform. Students had good reason to see them as synonymous, since the
university had chosen the Blackboard platform to deliver its courses; it is
the online public face of the university. However, from the way in which the
platform was configured for this class and, consequently, the way in which it
interacted with other players within the class (students, tutors, content, mes-
sages, etc.), technology appeared most often as an uncontrollable force in
its own right. This was not because it was disconnected from the university’s
control but, rather, because it could only function with the collaboration
of multiple players, some of them which – like the technical infrastructure,
and the quality of internet signal transfer, for example – were beyond the
control of any other single player in the class; as indeed were the combina-
tions of different player inputs required to get the various activities of the
class underway or completed.
Overall, ‘technology’ was blamed a lot by class members. On one level this
was a fair and accurate attribution of blame – many problems had an under-
lying technical or technological element, e.g. server maintenance, internet
service provider (ISP) download speeds, etc., and technology – spoken of
as if a single entity – was a convenient scapegoat. However, what were more
critical to the development of class culture were the contradictions that were
inherent in using technology and those which arose when use of technology
intersected with the activity being undertaken by other players in the class.
These contradictions can be summed up as follows.
Practice does not necessarily make perfect

However much practice students had had with skills such as posting mes-
sages, there was little improvement in their skills performance, over time.
Students could be technically competent but there were always other phys-
ical barriers to success and these could be different on each and every
occasion. Supporting technology – like servers or ISPs, for example – might
intervene, or fail, and thus subvert whatever it was that students were try-
ing to do. Prior skills, competencies and supposedly generic transferable
skills – like word processing – did not, in reality, transfer universally. Some
basic computer skills were essential for anyone wanting to participate in the
class, but these were less significant in assisting students to succeed than was
the need for confidence on the students’ part, so that they would immerse
themselves in the environment and be open to learning about it through
‘doing’ participation.
One student, for example, arrived in the class feeling confident that
she understood internet culture, having previously used it for socializing
(she had met her husband online), and for work where a VLE acted
as a repository for course materials. But, as she discovered, there were
significant differences between those contexts and the cultural context
of the online class. All are facilitated by a connection to the internet, but
behavioural norms in each are different and she did not always receive
replies to her messages in the way she expected. Another student, who
was a mature student entrant to teaching and was very conscious of his
physical age in relation to other class members, found that the lack of
visual cues allowed him a freedom to be just like his classmates, although
equally this was lost when he had to use text to present himself and his less
developed writing skills betrayed his lack of academic experience. Socially,
online self can be presented as the user wishes. In fact, the possibility of
changing identities may be a function of the online world, for example, in
games and simulations, but this is much less possible in the online class.
Simultaneously, the internet seemed to students to be the same (it was the
internet after all), but it also functioned somewhat differently as the context
for formal learning. Thus, not only is identity tied down in the online class
but that class will have behaviour expectations and a need for participants
to perform identity in a certain way, that is, as students. Even if the exact
mechanics of this evolve in the doing of it, this is very different from the
social web. A similar dilemma impacted on students who hadn’t had much
hands-on internet experience. They felt they had an understanding of what
it was going to be like, absorbed vicariously, but this did not necessarily
prepare them adequately for the reality of online learning. As one student
put it,
. . . when I started it off it was a big shock.
What was the biggest shock factor?
I think that while I had known about the existence of chat rooms and
forums and things like that this before I wasn’t really aware of how much
responsibility was upon myself to teach myself to learn – that is learning
from myself. Before, I think it was more provided for me and this time
it’s not quite the same.
(Simon, quoted in Hewling 2006: 192)
Assumptions drawn from other cultural contexts (like the face-to-face class,
or dealing with authority) were bound to frame users’ approaches to their
new class, but assumptions could be deceptive and did not predict the work
being done by other new players there. Prior knowledge could mislead too.
Not only did it fail to help but sometimes it also confused communication
rather than simplified it. So, for example, a sign intended to smooth com-
munications – such as a smiley emoticon – might be read as excluding or
‘wrong footing’ the reader if that reader could not see it in the form the
original author intended, for example, as an icon of a smiling face, because
the technology (e.g. the software or settings being used by the recipient)
had changed it back into punctuation marks as it was en route.
Limited negotiation
There was only limited potential for participants to negotiate (and build
a culture of use) with many technical functions in the class; for example,
students overwhelmed by the number of messages they saw on the discussion
boards had no way of filtering them – by topic for example – to suit their
own needs. They could opt to display only new messages, but message body
content could not be pre-viewed before full display and so unless message
authors had amended the title lines to make them unique, many messages
appeared to be duplicates, despite their content being different. Discussion
board messages, once read, nonetheless reappeared every time the board
was loaded – they could not be erased permanently, only ‘deleted’ in the
sense of being ‘marked as read’. Attempts by users to adapt the platform to
their own needs and preferences were futile. The flexibility users had been
promised by prevailing discourses of online learning (and promulgated by
the University as part of its marketing strategy – the anytime, anyplace,
anyone, anyhow, etc. noted earlier), did not emerge. This led to confusion
as it became clear to students that control was not, despite the promises
of the marketing, in their own hands. For example, asynchronicity offers
the option to do things (e.g. post messages, complete course tasks, etc.)
when the participants wish, but historical and geographic time mean that
the results of this activity are often unpredictable.
What you see is seldom what you get

There was no way for any participant to be certain that what they saw on
the screen in front of them was either the up-to-date picture (in terms of
being all the messages that had been posted to the board so far), or the
same view that any other participant was seeing (in terms of being all the
messages, or of looking the same, i.e. screen layout). Although not clear to
(nor understood effectively by) most participants, there was no single ‘real’
view of what was going on online at any time – it was always framed by the
technology at work for any individual viewer.
In sum, technology was neither neutral nor passive in this online class.
On the contrary, it was a very active participant. Its interactions with other
elements led to unpredictable results and matters were complicated further
because technology was not a single unified element, it had many strands
that could conflict with each other. For example, posting a message was not
just the technology of creating the message and pressing the button to send,
but also how the software was designed, how well the server was working
on any particular day and, even, whether or not the electricity stayed on
throughout the activity. Since participants were not dealing with a single
element they found it hard to learn its ways and idiosyncrasies and thus how
to negotiate with it. Even with practice, over time, the consequences of any
interaction with technology remained unpredictable and unreliable.
An online class depends on technology for its continued existence but
technical features that might support community and collaboration serve
equally to undermine them because of their unpredictability – servers fail to
connect, downloads are lengthy and interaction is disrupted by the design of
message threading. Interaction mediated by technology often serves mainly
to provide evidence to individuals that they are not alone online rather than
to provide them with the opportunity for collaboration to help them with
their learning.
Interpreting practice: the potential of an ecologies approach
Clearly, the technology used in virtual learning needs to be conceptualized

as an active player in the online class. It does not have free will, but the nature
of its connections to other elements online gives other participants the
impression that it operates with deliberate intent. This makes it an evolving
input to the negotiation of culture online. In the broad literature of online

learning the idea that technology has agency – or something anywhere like
it – is little documented except in terms of Actor Network Theory (Latour
2005). This is a theory that is predicated on the idea that in any network (in
this case the group of elements that make up the online class) all human and
mechanical elements ‘may be regarded, in different ways, as actors – entities
that can act (or fail to act) to support the network as a whole’ (Cornford
& Pollock 2002: 174). All are participants in maintaining the functioning
of the network such that ‘any of the elements in the network might cause
the breakdown [. . .]. In short, all these elements have to work together’
(2002: 175). However, while all the players in the online class considered
in this chapter may function at the same time, they do not necessarily work
together in the sense of co-operating or supporting each other.
Alternatively, an approach to understanding similar contexts, and based
on the idea of an ecology, is presently emerging from new research studies
like PROWE (2007) (see PROWE project, which is discussed next). This
approach takes its starting point from work on information ecologies by
Nardi and O’Day (1999) who suggest that there are certain key charac-
teristics of ecologies, such that an ecology is a system, ‘marked by strong
interrelationships and dependencies amongst its different parts’ (1999: 51).
These parts may be very different but they are closely interconnected and
develop in relation to each other, ‘change is endemic’ (ibid.).
The Joint Information Systems Committee (JISC)

PROWE project
The PROWE project created an online community workspace and file stor-
age facility to allow distance tutors from the UK Open University and the
University of Leicester to develop, store and share materials for professional
self-development and has tried adopting the ecology approach, as a means
of investigating and characterizing the nature of the environment they have
created.
The close interrelations between all the elements in the PROWE
workspace were soon clear using an ecologies lens, as were the conse-
quences of introducing change into the system. Any change did not just
affect individuals – arguably, in fact, they were the least affected – but had
quite sweeping effects across the board, like the effect of throwing a pebble
into still water. An instance of change in such an environment, for example,
a system software upgrade, ‘does not just affect the software but there will
need to be corresponding adjustments for other elements because their
positions in relation to each other will have changed too in someway’; for
example, features and functionality of the environment may have been

changed (Hewling 2007: 3). The same PROWE documents report that at
one point it was easier not to implement a system upgrade and have to deal
with the disruption to the whole community but, instead, participants were
encouraged to use certain known workarounds to address the most pressing
issues. For example, subject tags on original messages in discussion areas
were copied automatically to reply messages even if the topic of the reply
moved the conversation to new areas. So users were advised not to use the
auto-reply function but to create new messages when they wanted to reply
and change the subject.
In an online classroom, as opposed to in a more open environment
like PROWE, some of the interactions and conflicts provoked by ongoing
change are visible, and some are not. For example, the students see how
messages appear on the screen as they write them but they cannot see what
recipients see sometime later and after the original message has endured
the journey from one student desktop to another via different servers and
ISPs.
It could be argued that, in the online class, these adjustments are simply
indicators that new software or hardware has been introduced, some kind
of normal introductory inconvenience, in the same way that new tools (e.g.
a slide projector, whiteboard, etc.) might be introduced into a face-to-face
class and create some initial ripples of dissent and disruption. But, there
is a significant difference that must be taken into account. In the case of
the new online class technology the locus of control for the introduction of
change is widely distributed. In the face-to-face example the management
of the introduction of the projector would probably be within the control
of the teacher but, online, control is shared by users; software; hardware;
the system manager; the system developer; the internet service provider and
all the other ‘species’ within the environment ecology. This change in the
locus of control constitutes part of what Lankshear et al. (2002) refer to as
‘the double impact of rapid and far-reaching technological change and the
massive assault on longstanding narratives of foundation and legitimation’
(2002: 16) and undermine, potentially at least, the effectiveness of the
learning environment.
What conclusions can be drawn from this discussion in the context of
the theme of this book? Learning cultures online are diverse and constantly
evolving; online is not a single ‘third’ culture. They are neither just influ-
enced by history, nor simply by those participating in the class. In fact, play-
ers in the negotiation of online culture include the delivery technology itself.
Doing learning online is not just a matter of recreating face-to-face prac-
tice virtually but requires examining and understanding new metaphors –
such as the ecology model used for PROWE.
Moving forward
Introducing technology when that technology is a virtual learning environ-

ment is an act of courage, and a huge challenge to previously held views of
learning culture. If the nature of the online learning culture and how it is
experienced by users is to be fully understood, future research will need to
explore in greater depth the interrelations at work between players in the
online class as much as establish the advantages and disadvantages, or ideal
configuration of, or for, different players – as has been the focus of much
research in on- and off-line learning environments to date. At its most basic
level evaluating a learning delivery platform, for example, will need to take
into account how it interacts with the way content has been structured, or
what happens to technical performance and on the students’ screens when
an internet connection is slow, or erratic, as much as knowing how many
students can log in, or whether or not it has an audio-chat facility. Technol-
ogy is not a learning accessory but an integral part of how students perceive
and receive content and, thus, learning; WYSIWYG (‘what you see is what
you get’) is not – in online learning practice – always what you get.
Chapter 7
Trouble and Autoethnography in Assessment

Genre: A Case for Postnational Design in
Online Internationalized Pedagogy
Catherine Doherty
University of Queensland, Australia
Introduction
When visiting someone else’s place, one tends to be mindful and alert to
how things might be done differently there. It’s not that you don’t know
how to behave in general, but you’re keen to understand what the local
expectations are so you can fit in and be seen to act appropriately. What to do
and how to act won’t be something that will necessarily be spelt out explicitly
when you arrive – it will more likely be unspoken, tacit understandings of
how things are done around here that nevertheless will be used to read and
judge your behaviour. You’ll learn by watching and checking whether your
own reading of the setting’s norms is correct. In contrast, spending time in
an international airport is a very different experience – everyone and no
one belongs in this setting – it’s a transit zone, a point of intersecting worlds,
so one can’t presume too much in the way of common language, knowledge
or shared habits. Thus everyone who passes through is treated as a visitor
and any signage is accordingly explicit and carefully designed to prompt
the flow of visitors through the necessary transactions. It is this kind of
difference, between local places with implicit codes and more global spaces
with explicit directions, which this chapter is interested in, with reference
to the design of online internationalized education.
Leask (2000) suggests that in online internationalized learning, all stu-
dents, including those enrolled locally by the provider, could and should
be considered international students, given their virtual mobility and glob-
alized interactions. As ‘international’ students they would stand to benefit
from broader horizons and new perspectives. This chapter explores how
such a vision may not necessarily play out, and how an implicit local frame
of reference can operate through pedagogical default settings. By ‘default
settings’ I mean any unexamined implicit cultural codes embedded in the
pedagogical design; in other words, the operative learning culture. This
chapter draws on aspects of an ethnographic study (Doherty 2006) of an
online internationalized unit offered in a Masters of Business Administra-
tion (MBA) program by an Australian university to students from Australia,
China and Malaysia. In many ways the practices described in these anal-
yses would be considered exemplary in the field of online pedagogy as
peer collaboration was highly valued, and students’ cultural differences
were respected. However, it is argued that by overlooking how the ‘default
settings’ of genre and associated presumptions privileged some and disad-
vantaged others, localized learning cultures continued to operate implicitly.
Suggestions are made for how educators can actively dislocate the local stu-
dents’ experience through conscious ‘postnational’ pedagogical design, so
they too can participate as ‘international’ students enjoying broader hori-
zons. To this end, this work expands Pratt’s (1998) idea of ‘the pedagogical
arts of the contact zone’:
how to make that crossroads the best site for learning . . . (with) ways to
move into and out of rhetorics of authenticity; ground rules for communi-
cation across lines of difference and hierarchy that go beyond politeness
but maintain mutual respect; a systematic approach to the all-important
concept of cultural mediation.
(1998: 184)
The chapter is offered in seven sections. First, identity processes are recon-
sidered in light of globalization’s cultural processes, cyberspace’s networks
and the more fluid life worlds thus enabled. In these conditions, online
learning is understood to offer new ways of belonging in ‘postnational’ com-
munities less reliant on locality for their frames of reference. Second, the
concept of genre is then described as the textual expression of the context
of culture. Next, pedagogy is theorized as a filter on such processes, shaping
and promoting certain identity positions at the expense of others through
its design – a potential that could be exploited more consciously. Then the
empirical study and the nature of the case study unit are outlined in more
detail. The two following analyses focus on the unit’s required assessment
genre. In the first analysis, a series of troubles over the international stu-
dents’ desire for more explication of the desired genre for their assessment
tasks is described. In the second analysis of students’ assessment texts, the
analysis explores how a differentiated genre structure emerged whereby
Trouble and Autoethnography in Assessment Genre 133
some students included an extra step that explicitly unpacked their own
national contexts in ways that others could understand and engage with.
The final section looks at practical implications of the analyses for the future
design of online internationalized education.
Identity processes in globalizing times – living beyond the nation
When local providers court global enrolments there will be tensions if the
practices of the educational institution remain framed within the nation
that hosts it physically, and if they continue to be constrained by local con-
ventions, traditions and particularities, while the students who pass through
occupy transnational life worlds: ‘What might be at bottom a cosmopoli-
tan microcosm is still filtered along national and state lines. The relation
between national structures and transnational realities is thus full of con-
tradiction and contingency’ (Beck 2004: 150). With escalating flows of peo-
ple, images, social movements and cultural products across the globe, new
opportunities have fuelled new social imaginaries, which in turn drive indi-
viduals’ biographies: ‘More people than ever before seem to imagine rou-
tinely the possibility that they or their children will live and work in places
other than where they were born’ (Appadurai 1996: 6). In addition, the
expanding networks of information and communication technologies offer
access to virtual travel, new communities and additional cultural scripts and
resources with which to pursue aspirations and craft new identities (Castells
1996, 1997). These social conditions and their identity potentials are clearly
evident in the online internationalized classroom, where the ‘intersecting
horizontal mobilities’ (Urry 2000: 3) of far-flung people in shared virtual
spaces produce new social interfaces. Educators in such settings need a reno-
vated template, a ‘postnational cartography’ (Appadurai 1999: 49), whereby
the trajectories of such lives lived beyond the nation can be better acknowl-
edged, understood and facilitated. Meanwhile, local students who fail to
recognize that such potentials are on offer will overlook rich opportunities.
The nation and the local have in the past been most clearly and forcibly
asserted through space and boundaries, but how might any premise of terri-
toriality be invoked in online space and virtual interactions? Flows through
virtual sites could on one hand produce ‘translocalities’ (Appadurai 1999:
42), similar to the international airport. In such circumstances, flows of
people through the sites will ‘undermine endogenous social structures’
(Urry 2000: 1) leaving the sites’ local practices changed, de-centred and
disembedded from their local contexts – in, but no longer of, the local. On
the other hand, it is argued here that a virtual ‘locality’ can be produced
(Appadurai 1999) through the default privileging of certain ‘local’ frames
in the virtual sites’ language practices. Thus locality will depend on whose
terms and in whose terms the virtual site operates, which will decide who is
to be treated as visitor and who gets to play host. This may be an obvious
point when it comes to choosing what language to use, but more subtly, it
will be played out in how any shared language is regulated, as explored in
the next section regarding the concept of genre.
Genre in cultural context
Online education is textually saturated – it only exists through its textual

interface, which needs to be interrogated not just as interaction, but also as
text per se (Hine 2000). The concept of genre refers to the layer of cultural
conventions that shape texts according to their purpose. These conven-
tions are derived from the intertextual chain of ‘like’ texts preceding and
surrounding any individual text. While any language can be inherently cre-
ative, choices about how meaning is to be made tend to cluster around
certain systemic patterns or grammars that become conventional for the
particular context of use. Systemic Functional Linguistics (Halliday 1985)
offers a sociolinguistic grammar, which situates any text in both an immedi-
ate ‘context of situation’, and within a broader ‘context of culture’, with the
outer layer understood to be shaping or re-sourcing the inner, and the inner
as realising the outer. The two levels, context of situation and context of cul-
ture, should be understood not as two separate things but as a continuum
for how close the focus needs to be, the immediate situation being a par-
ticular instance of the larger ‘outer’ culture (Halliday 1991: 12). ‘Culture’
here is understood as the sociolinguistic notion of the speech community
whose conventions presume some focal or convergent agreement on who
constitutes the referent community and what its practices are. In this sense,
the loose network of business education professionals that regularly read or
write case studies in the Harvard Business Review would constitute a ‘context
of culture’, which sustains agreement around what constitutes a competent
case study report.
However, in situations such as online internationalized education, that
baseline premise of a convergent community supporting and sustaining
genre conventions becomes problematic. Does such a neat nesting of the
context of situation within a notionally coherent context of culture do justice
to globalization’s disjunctural flows (Appadurai 1996) in which English is
being appropriated and adapted (Widdowson 1997; Seidlhofer 2002) into
new settings and new communities? Can we presume that some common
‘context of culture’ coheres around such a translocal context of situation?
More and more communicative situations in a globalizing world will involve
the intersection of multiple and disparate contexts, so a presumption of

‘co-membership’ in a singular ‘common community’ (Firth 1996: 239) may
not be warranted when the linguistic code, in this case English, serves as the
situational lingua franca.
To illustrate this point, Kramsch and Thorne (2002) offer a pertinent
account of ‘genre wars’ in online interaction between French and US
language students and highlight the crucial role of genre in globalized
(mis)communication:
Because genre is bound up both with global communicative purpose and

a local understanding of social relations, genre is the mediator between
the global and the local. It is all the more pervasive as it is the invisible
fabric of our speech. It should not be surprising then, that at the end of
our analysis we find genre to be the major source of misunderstanding in
global communicative practice. Because we tend to take our genres for
natural and universal, we don’t realize the local flavour they bring to the
global medium.
(2002: 99)
Genre theory has a long history with debates over persistent, idealized or
universal forms and the empirical proliferation of new ‘species’ (Williams
1977: 183) of texts in response to new social conditions. ‘Genre’ as a concept
thus has to account for both continuity and change over time and contexts.
Assessment tasks in higher education provide a good example of how genres
embedded and sustained in local learning cultures can be both resilient
and changing. Genre such as the essay and the research thesis have long
retained and enforced their form and status, while new innovative genre
‘species’ (the reflective journal, the web page, the wiki) have evolved their
own particular textual templates more recently, which continue to shift and
morph as they are put to work in different settings.
Bakhtin’s (1986) contribution allows this dynamism-within-conventions
to be understood as an intertextual process. Bakhtin argued that genres
operate as conventions within social domains, not immune to change or
the author’s individuality, but relatively stable over time, each instance serv-
ing as a link in the intertextual chain that sustains or evolves such con-
ventions. This raises the question of which intertextual experiences the
various students who arrived in the MBA unit of interest here, might draw
upon to derive their genre repertoires, and whether their socializations
into ‘like’ contexts were in fact commensurate. In addition, Bakhtin argued
that speakers/writers acquire their extensive, heterogeneous repertoires of
genres without realizing or articulating that expertise. In other words, gen-
res are more likely to be ‘caught’ than ‘taught’. Moreover, ‘the better our
command of genres, the more freely we employ them, the more fully and
clearly we reveal our own individuality in them’ (Bakhtin 1986: 80). This, in
turn, raises the question of whether those who have achieved such tacit and
flexible mastery can assist those who haven’t. These questions are explored
in the first analysis in this chapter. The other point from Bakhtin’s work
is the dynamism and the capacity for evolutionary change as new practices
and participants are drawn into the intertextual chain. This potential is
demonstrated in the second analysis in this chapter.
One more consideration at play in this context of situation is the power
invested in assessment regimes and how the implicit assumptions about
which/whose genre is considered normal or appropriate can differently
position groups of students. Bernstein’s (2000) distinction between rules of
realization and rules of recognition help unpack this play of power in legiti-
mating and ‘normalizing’ certain genres in pedagogical contexts. Bernstein
distinguishes between rules of recognition and rules of realisation in peda-
gogical transmission. The rules of recognition refer to understandings that
allow individuals ‘to recognize the specialty of the context that they are in’
(2000: 17); that is, to distinguish between the particular pedagogical context
and external contexts with regard to its required roles, discourse, register
or practices. In this regard, formal academic texts are ‘recognizable’ by
their conventions of citation, use of abstracts, their technical register and so
forth. Bernstein goes on to give an example where a ‘weakly classified con-
text can create ambiguity in contextual recognitions’ (ibid.). Thus students
could be unsure what might distinguish a reflective journal from notes or
a diary. For Bernstein, the rules of realization refer to understandings that
allow individuals to ‘produce legitimate communication [. . .] to produce
the legitimate text’ (2000: 17–18). The distinction between recognition and
realization allows for the possibility that participants might recognize the
kind of text and discourse required, but be unable to produce it.
Identity processes in pedagogy
The pedagogy that takes place in any educational site is not a neutral,
benign stage on which students perform their identities. Rather, it is a cat-
alyst that projects or casts particular identity positions for teachers and stu-
dents through its design. Bernstein identifies a variety of such orientations
‘for designing and distributing pedagogic identities’ (2000: 205). Each of
these orientations works through curricular selection, pedagogical design
and the assessment regime to encourage ‘in teachers and students a partic-
ular moral disposition, motivation and aspiration’ (2000: 65). Thus, certain
identity orientations can be promoted and legitimated over others in the
pedagogical design. It is argued here that this capacity within pedagogic

relations could be purposefully harnessed to project more global or ‘post-
national’ identities for all students (both domestically and internationally
enrolled), casting them as citizens of an interconnected world, potentially
living beyond local boundaries.
While pedagogical design can channel and nurture particular identities,
students themselves bring their own complex of identity orientations and
tactics: ‘what I am, where, with whom and when’ (Bernstein 2000: 205).
Online internationalized education is an interesting case in point, where
students can access new cultural resources from beyond their local setting to
fuel personal trajectories. This may describe all education in a way, but such
potential is amplified and its reach is extended in the online internation-
alized classroom. There is thus a necessary process of ‘articulation’ (Hall
1996: 14) between personal and pedagogic identity orientations, which can
produce degrees of goodness-of-fit in the connection between the student’s
self project, and the identity positions offered to the student in the educa-
tional setting. The trouble reported in this chapter suggests that a degree
of friction was produced between who the internationally enrolled students
wanted to be (members of an international community) and how the set-
ting positioned them (as outsiders, guests, in need of induction into how
things are done locally ‘here’, in the host university). The solution offered
purposefully undermines and de-centres the operative local frame, inviting
all students to venture beyond the local.
The study
The data are drawn from a case study of a core Masters of Business Adminis-
tration (MBA) unit (‘Unit A’) offered online in 2003 by an Australian univer-
sity (‘Uni A’) to an internationalized student group (Doherty 2006). As well
as approximately sixty local and expatriate Australian-nationals (hereafter
referred to as the ‘domestic’ students), the unit enrolled approximately
thirty students through a partnership agreement with a parallel Malaysian
institution (hereafter referred to as the ‘international’ students). These
students were Malaysian citizens and citizens of the People’s Republic of
China temporarily located in Malaysia for their studies. ‘Online’ delivery
meant that, by design, the lecturer communicated with all students in this
unit only through the web-based courseware in the many-to-many mode of
‘discussion forums’, or in one-to-one mode through the courseware e-mail
function. All students used the same English language curriculum materials
and textbook, and participated in the same online space with English as the
language of instruction. The researcher was not an active participant in the
unit, but had ongoing access to the shared web-based interaction in the
unit’s website, following ethical clearance and the informed consent of the
unit participants.
The research was conducted as a critical ethnography (following Car-
specken 1996) adapted to virtual environments (following Hine 2000). As
‘critical’ research it was mindful of ‘the relationship between power and
thought and power and truth claims’ (Carspecken 1996: 10). As ‘adapted’
ethnography, it had to translate ‘an approach traditionally applied in spe-
cific bounded social settings to a communications technology, which seems
to disrupt the notion of boundaries’ (Hine 2000: 10). The research involved:
frequent observations and recording of the online interaction in the unit’s
web-based courseware discussion space; semi-structured interviews with the
lecturer and educational designer involved before, during and after the
conduct of the unit; and e-mail interviews with a sample of the students.
The larger study reported how the design and conduct of the unit produced
cultural difference in one way as a curricular asset (Doherty forthcoming),
and in another, as a pedagogical problem (Doherty 2008). This chapter
is concerned, first, with the problems stemming from the implicit local
culture of learning made evident in online discussions around the unit’s
assessment tasks, and second, the emergence of a more self-conscious sen-
sibility in some students’ assignments, which it is suggested, points a way
forward in how we might think about the design of online internationalized
education and its learning culture.
The assessment tasks across the unit are summarized in Table 7.1. A sig-
nificant feature of the lecturer’s design of the small group discussion tasks
(Task 1a and 1b) and subsequent individual reports (Tasks 2 and 3) was his
version of the business discipline’s tradition of heuristic case studies (see
for example the Harvard Business Review). Rather than using classic case
studies produced by high-status academies, the lecturer’s assessment tasks
required students to produce their own case study narratives, drawing on
real or hypothetical scenarios in their own particular work situations. These
case studies were to be discussed online and developed collaboratively in
small groups before each student submitted his or her individual case study
and analysis for assessment. The students were purposefully allocated to
mixed small groups to stage a cross-cultural encounter between the ‘inter-
national’ and ‘domestic’ students. Thus each student’s work was intended to
be enriched by the insights provided by group members, that is, by mutual
student subsidy (Doherty forthcoming).
The final written submissions for Tasks 2 and 3 were described as ‘formal
report [. . .] (with scholarly references . . .)’ in the unit requirements. For each
task, the instructions for students stipulated a word limit, broke the task
down further and outlined five criteria for assessment, each allocated 20
Table 7.1 Unit A’s Required Assessment Tasks
Task no.
(% of final
grade) Task Related to Date due
1. (10%) Online discussion (a) Modules 1, 2 (a) End Week 6

(peer-assessed) in (b) Modules 3,4,5 (b) End Week 11
small groups prior
to the submission of
each case study task
2. (20%) Case Study A – a Modules 1, 2 Week 7
narrative and
analysis of
problematic group
behaviour in a
workplace
3. (35%) Case Study B – Modules 3,4,5 End Week 12
hypothetical case
study about
managing a change
program in an
organization
4. (35%) Self-reflection Complete course End Week 13
reviewing own content
management
behaviour across a
number of
dimensions
percent in the final grade for that task. The final criterion in each task
addressed ‘quality of report presentation’ . The genre invoked and legitimated
in Assessment Tasks 2 and 3 could thus be considered a reinterpretation
of the tradition of using case study narratives in business education to
resource cross-cultural exchanges. In contrast, the final reflective assess-
ment task, Task 4, was more personally and individually oriented. The first
analysis, which follows, describes and interprets a series of queries regarding
appropriate genre for these assessment tasks, played out in a general ‘trou-
bleshooting’ discussion forum. The second analysis examines how students
in their practice re-shaped the genre to embrace the new set of international
participants, and the more problematic ‘context of culture’.
First analysis: troubles around assessment genre
Across the unit’s 13 weeks, there was much open discussion and complaint
around issues of assessment. In particular there was widespread protest in
the unit’s open troubleshooting forum (Forum F) in Weeks 9 and 10, fol-
lowing the students’ receipt of their first individual assignment grades from
Case Study A. Many students were unhappy with their grades, or the lack of
detailed feedback with which to improve their subsequent grades. As these
escalating complaints played out, the only ‘High Distinction’ student, and
others, agreed to post their assignments as models for discussion. With this
precedent, students successfully pushed for model assignments to be made
available for the following two individual assignments, and then proceeded
to dissect and contest each of these models. This section summarizes a
string of postings in Forum F by students in Malaysia, and the lecturer’s
responses. The selected postings dealt with unpacking and querying assess-
ment requirements, first prior to submission dates, and then in response to
offered models, grades and criteria. This section suggests that some of the
Malaysian and Chinese students were differently resourced to produce the
requisite genre, demanding additional support to decode the genre’s tacit
rules of realization. The lecturer endeavoured to provide this support, but
only to a limited degree.
Zone F saw twenty-three postings by students in Malaysia enquiring about
assessment protocols and tasks. There were sixteen queries of a similar
nature from the larger body of domestic students, but the disproportionate
majority (59 percent) were from the students in Malaysia, who constituted
approximately one-third of total enrolments across the life of the unit.
Postings before submission dates typically requested details such as:
r bibliographic referencing styles and conventions: ‘Can you tell us what style
of referencing (Uni A) or your goodself want us to use? Is it Harvard referencing,
APA, etc?’ (F3);
r what was to be included in the word count: ‘Will the referencing mentioned
throughout the essay be included in the [. . .] word limit? (F11);
r what textual formatting was required: ‘Can you tell us the kind of formatting
we need to follow to write our report? I mean in terms of line spacing, headers and
footers, page numbers (on the top right hand corner of the page) etc.’ (F24);
r and how to complete and include the required cover sheet: ‘Can someone
please tell me how these should be filled?’ (F68).
As a group, these queries seemed to be confined to superficial technical-

ities, seeking a definitive correct answer. The heightened degree of anxiety
exhibited by the students in Malaysia could be understood as attempts to
seek some explicit affirmation, given that they had limited experience of the
norms in the Australian university sector. Positioned as guests, they under-
stood that they had to operate within ‘local’ expectations, but needed these
to be spelt out more explicitly.
Sometimes the lecturer responded to such queries with a definitive
answer: ‘Yes, the word count includes the 400 word (approx) narrative’ (F39).
At other times he offered a more flexible suggestion: ‘The precise format is up
to the individual student. The requirement is that your report is professionally pre-
sented with appropriate use of headings and subheadings to give it structure’ (F25),
or supplied a model paper: ‘I have added two of my papers to the (website) [. . .].
They can also serve as models on how to format your assignments (though an equally
professional format is acceptable)’ (An12). This oscillation between firm rules
and more flexible guidelines to inform personal judgment may have helped
produce the frustration that was evident later when the students contested
models against the espoused ‘rules’.
Less typical queries from Malaysian students sought to clarify the question
and structure of the writing task:
Is it possible for you to clarify in more specifics regarding case study 2?

I’ve a few problems trying to understand what I’m supposed to touch on
. . . [outlines a possible structure] Am I on the right path if I follow the
above understanding?
(F113)
There were similar queries for additional clarifications before each assess-
ment task, to the point that for the third task, one student in Malaysia simply
asked: ‘Please provide guidance how to prepare the above report’ (F241).
In the wake of receiving grades for their first assignment, there was a call
led by ‘domestic’ students for more constructive feedback, which grew to
become a request for models of good assignments to ‘learn from’ and to
inform their next efforts. The lecturer approached the one student who
had received a High Distinction grade, who agreed to have the assignment
uploaded as a model. The HD exemplar was widely applauded, but then
subjected to detailed scrutiny by some students in Malaysia, against the rules
that had been discovered in the preceding enquiries, for example:
Pertaining to the sample HD’s case, the word count was 3,944 words
inclusive of the Case Narrative [. . .] and 3, 486 words if excluding the CN.
If the word count for the sample HD case was also 3,000 words, then it
has exceeded the limit by 31% and 16% respectively. I am just wondering
if there is a margin allowed before the student is being penalised for
exceeding the 3,000 word limit. I would appreciate your clarification on
this matter. Cheers [. . .].
(F230)
Significantly, the electronic mode of this pedagogy offered word process-

ing tools such as ‘word counts’, ‘table of contents’ and an array of formatting
options. These affordances in turn, made such concerns, scrutiny and com-
plaints possible.
Students in Malaysia enthusiastically greeted the student models offered:
‘Thank you for your unselfish spirit. I reach across the waters and give you a BIG
HANDSHAKE!’ (F190), and then asked for models of subsequent assign-
ments to be available before the submission date, rather than after, as was
the case with the first assignment. For example: ‘It would be nice if U can show
us a HD sample for this assessment. If fact it would be great to show a PS sample
so that we can judge for ourself and know where we stand eventually’ (F239). By
the third assessment task, however, the lecturer was less accommodating of
such requests. In response to the generic request quoted above (F241), he
responds: ‘The official guidance has already been provided in the specification for the
assignment. However, I will be posting an example soon (on the understanding that
it is not a “model” but only an example)’. Thus by the third assignment, the pro-
vision of a model had come to replace explicit enquiries and instructions,
though the lecturer’s caveat that ‘it is not a “model” but only an example’, sug-
gests that he was actively working to pre-empt and disallow its scrutiny. Thus
the various parties exercised forms of power and influence to negotiate how
the unit was to be conducted.
The practice of providing exemplars of assignments was not without its
critics. On two occasions, individual students voiced their concern that they
might be accused of plagiarism as their work-in-progress resembled the
models provided before submission dates. Other students, in their course
evaluations and e-mail interviews, criticized the practice: ‘I think an HD
example could have consisted of a completely different subject whilst emphasising the
points in writing good essays rather than basing it on the current actual assignment
that we were working on’ (A7).
The lecturer chose not to include classic case studies anywhere in his cur-
ricular selection, which in effect meant that the students were not supplied
with high status models of the relevant genre. Rather, they were exposed
to each other’s draft versions thereof, perhaps giving mixed, ambiguous
messages about what was to be considered legitimate. In this light, the ques-
tions from students in Malaysia sought to find out the implicit rules and
local learning culture surrounding assessment practices, and their scrutiny
of student models as described above could be understood as testing the

strength of the implicit rules operating in each assessment task. Their ques-
tions might also be interpreted as checking how similar or different this
‘local’ educational setting was from others they had experienced.
To articulate Bernstein’s rules of recognition/realization with linguistic
understandings of the context of culture, I would argue that rules of recog-
nition read or sample the linguistic surface level of register, that is, the
text’s realization in its wording choices. Thus the students’ typical fixation
on surface issues such as word limits, referencing conventions and format-
ting interrogated only what was empirically evident at the surface of the
text. However, to produce legitimate versions of the target genre, rules
of realization also need to read/sample the sublinguistic or structural level
of genre. This realm is less articulated as argued by Bakhtin, more a mat-
ter of socialization through intertextual experience. Thus students found
it hard to find the words to interrogate this dimension for producing the
legitimate text, except with reference to surface features. Similarly, the lec-
turer did not articulate what makes the HD assignment textually effective,
but, understandably, described it in more substantive terms:
(the HD student’s) assignment was outstanding in terms of the quality of

analysis and the demonstrated understanding of conceptual frameworks.
For example, she didn’t get an HD grade for having a certain number
of references but rather for effectively integrating scholarly perspectives
into her analysis [. . .]. The final marking criterion is about the overall
professionalism of the report presentation – to score an HD it has to be
outstanding.
(F214)
He resorted to making the intertextual resources of the models he and oth-

ers supplied do the work for him, in the hope that the necessary understand-
ings would be ‘caught’. Bakhtin’s additional point, that flexibility comes with
genre mastery, is illustrated in the students’ scrutiny of the model. As they
attempted to pin its features (for example, word counts) down to the rules
stipulated by the lecturer, and hold him accountable for any discrepancy,
he, with his tacit mastery, could respond with a flexible tolerance, taking
the criteria as indicative guidelines, not prescriptive rules.
To summarize the above discussion, the stream of trouble regarding
assessment tasks and their textual presentation was dominated by students in
Malaysia, who displayed a disproportionate thirst for guidance and models
at this entry point to their transnational educational program. Such needs
were explained with reference to the linguistic construct of genre, which
is understood to structure and shape text in culturally appropriate ways.
Mastery of genre conventions is achieved by experience in an intertextual

chain of ‘like’ texts. Such mastery is often tacit learning or socialization.
With mastery of a genre comes a degree of flexibility in applying it. It was
suggested that mastering a genre requires both learning the rules of its
recognition (what distinguishes it from other text types), and the rules of
its realization (how to produce a legitimate instance of the text type). The
former was understood to interrogate the surface, or linguistic realization
of ‘like’ texts. The latter was understood to require insights into the extra-
linguistic structuring of text, that is, its genre. Students and lecturer alike,
in this case, seemed to find it difficult to interrogate textual forms and
structures beyond surface details, limiting their exchange to issues of word
counts, referencing conventions, ‘format’ and ‘setting out’. Thus the even-
tual call for and supply of model assignments filled the void produced by
inarticulate tacit knowledge. Such ‘genre trouble’ and the differencing of
students in regard to the ‘default settings’ of implicit genre in assessment
tasks could perhaps be predicted in any educational program, but partic-
ularly so in transnational education with its interactions between spatially
distributed actors and its reliance on textual exchange, at entry points into
programs and in university settings with their high value on disciplinary
textual conventions.
The students in Malaysia, who were new to the settings of the Australian
university, may not previously have been exposed to other ‘like’ texts from
which they could draw their generative understandings, or may have been
unsure whether their previous intertextual experiences were relevant in this
‘local’ setting. The lecturer, by not using the classic case studies common
in such courses (a tradition on which his innovation of workplace scenar-
ios in this unit was modelled), has inadvertently stripped the curriculum
of high status models of how such texts, typical of and unique to business
education, are staged or presented, leaving it to students to define the ‘like’
intertexts. At this stage of some of their careers, this issue posed a tempo-
rary and predictable problem. As the students in Malaysia progress in their
studies in this context, they will accrue experience in, and come to share,
the intertextual coherence that sustains such specialized genre. Thus their
cultural referents for such tasks will shift in line with their new contexts
and new experiences. By this framework, such transnational students are
not fixed, essentialized, or locked into atemporal cultural identities; rather
they are perceived to be in the process of gaining access to new cultural
resources as required by the contingencies of the context, as previously
separate worlds are brought together in the networks and routes of inter-
nationalized education. Nor will the genre templates remain essentialized
and fixed, but rather the conventions surrounding this type of text and
its structuring could well be impacted upon by the inclusion of new mem-
bers in its intertextual chain, as the following section illustrates. From this
analysis it is argued that the disproportionate distribution of genre trou-

bles is predictable and should alert educators to the international cohort’s
relative disadvantage as a group, though not necessarily as individuals. All
students may well have such needs, but educators should be particularly
alert to such potentials when designing entry point programs for students
arriving from diverse educational backgrounds.
Second analysis: differentiated genre for different orientations
The second analysis focuses on the students’ second workplace scenario

texts, as posted in the small group spaces for Assessment Task 1b, and later
revised for Task 3. By this stage, the students had been offered multiple
models of how such texts were to be done, suggesting that student per-
formances of the genre would be converging. The analysis explores how a
genre variation emerged across the corpus of workplace scenarios, whereby
some students included an ‘autoethnographic’ insert in their accounts.
The concept of ‘autoethnography’ is drawn from Pratt’s (1992, 1998)
writing about ‘contact zones’, being places where diverse peoples meet and
grapple, often in unequal struggles. This concept has been applied to uni-
versity campus sites involving international and culturally diverse student
groups (Pratt 1998; Bullen & Kenway 2003; Singh & Doherty 2004) and is
extended here to illuminate online learning environments. Autoethnogra-
phy is not to be understood as a research method but rather as a rhetorical
‘phenomenon of the contact zone’ (Pratt 1998: 178). It refers to ‘a text in
which people undertake to describe themselves in ways that engage with rep-
resentations others have made of them’ (1998: 175), in particular the rep-
resentations in contact zone encounters whereby the less powerful account
for themselves and their difference in the terms made available to them by
the more powerful. It is thus a form of self-representation expressing an
identity distinct from a normalized default. Autoethnography is used here
in a weaker form to identify textual moments when a student’s case study
offered some ‘insider’ information to enable ‘outsiders’ to engage with their
meanings and narratives. The typical genre for the workplace scenarios will
first be described; then the emergent variation with its autoethnographic
elements will be illustrated. Following Bhatia (1993), the purpose is to
move through description, to explanation of what the variation strategically
achieves for its writers, illuminating ‘the importance of tactical aspects of
genre construction, which play a significant role in the concept of genre as
a dynamic social process, as against a static one’ (1993: 16).
Across the seventy-six workplace scenarios posted in the second small-
group discussion tasks, there was remarkably coherent patterning in
the type of information included and how the texts were ‘cognitively
Table 7.2 Typical genre structure of workplace scenario texts
Typical
moves Possible elements Examples
Orientation Nature of business X-Bank is a national bank that has

to company Location, size dealings in the Pacific region [. . .]
History of company G&H group, previously named
Organizational J&K, was a private stock enterprise
structure built in 1991 [. . .]
Now the company has forty-one
subsidiary companies and branches
[. . .]
Writers role As a new CEO to the business [. . .]
as CEO
Problem/ Statement of issue The takeover and the bleak economic
change 1 Recent history outlook created uncertainty and
Analysis of apprehension in the company. Moral
contributing factors was low. Things slowed down.
Accounts of past There was room for increased usage of
strategies and their technology.
outcomes Despite a remuneration package
Problem/ Statement of issue This often caused delays, which
change 2 Analysis of impinged on profits and meeting of
contributing factors targets [. . .]
Accounts of past
strategies and their
outcomes
Questions for If you were CEO, what theories would
discussion you look to [. . .]
structured’ (Bhatia 1993: 21), despite the wide variety of businesses, set-
tings and problems profiled. The following schema outlines the standard
moves and their elements, with illustrative exemplars. The move, ‘Writer
as CEO’, tended to float in the structure – sometimes placed towards the
beginning, other times towards the end. Occasionally scenarios started with
problems, but the majority followed the order outlined in Table 7.2.
The variation of interest occurred in a few workplace scenarios posted
by both ‘domestic’ and ‘international’ students. It was the inclusion of a
‘context of situation’ move that offered the reader more contextual infor-
mation with which to understand the particular workplace problem in a
Table 7.3 Optional, autoethnographic genre: more in workplace

scenario texts
Optional move Possible elements Examples
Context of Global context Following the consolidation of local

situation National context banks, the Malaysian government
Industry context announced that the thirty-odd finance
companies were to be consolidated into
ten, to prepare the financial industry
to meet the challenges and competition
of globalization in 2007 [. . .]. The
country was still recovering from the
economic slowdown of 1999 [. . .].
This case deals with the problems that
are prevalent in many of the private
companies in the People’s Republic of
China.
The financial planning industry as a
whole has experienced turbulent times
[. . .]. This was largely brought about
by a report conducted by the Australian
Consumers Association. Some findings
from this report were scathing [. . .].
The clock is fast ticking for the domestic
banks in Malaysia, for, by 2007, the
country will be opened to foreign banks
larger national or global field, as illustrated in Table 7.3. The information

offered was ‘insider’ information – that which was essentially being taken
for granted in other scenarios.
This move sometimes came at the beginning as presage, funnelling down
from a larger context to the specific workplace. Other autoethnographic
moves were embedded within other moves. A domestic student included
one such embedded move in his analysis of contributing factors for a prob-
lem: ‘One reason could be the fact that the financial planning industry has been in a
downward spiral since the collapse of the global share market.’ A student in Malaysia
inserted an autoethnographic clarification in his business orientation: ‘(note:
Kuching is the capital of Sarawak)’. Another student in Malaysia included an
autoethnographic comment outlining the national context in his analysis
of the problem: ‘A quick scan of the environment reveals intense competition in
the industry; stricter government legislations regarding the minimum qualifications

of lecturers [. . .] and government’s aspirations to see more ‘thinking’ graduates pro-
duced’, while another international student offered an autoethnographic
commentary on workplace culture that needed to be understood in the
problem analysis: ‘Most employees will keep silence whether they having opinion or
not as this is the norm of traditional Chinese organisation’.
Whether a distinct stage, or an embedded aside, these autoethnographic
comments are important rhetorical moments that acknowledge that the
writer’s life world has in some ways been de-centred and relativized (Robert-
son 1992) by the flows of people through the virtual site – it can no longer be
an assumed, default, setting. The fact that such context was made explicit in
the text suggests that the writers were orienting positively and pro-actively to
the needs of their respective nonlocals, and thus to the setting as a ‘translo-
cality’. To engage with the international readers dwelling in the virtual site,
they made the effort to speak ‘out of context’, by invoking a postnational car-
tography. A degree of effort to compare and translate life worlds has often
been expected of nonlocal students. It is significant that several ‘domestic’
students used similar reflexive devices. They also ventured beyond their
‘local’ horizons to engage with ‘Others’ on more equitable terms, thus
casting themselves as ‘international’ students as well.
A case for postnational pedagogy
Pratt (1998) points out that the usual approach in university pedagogy is
to:
readily take it for granted that the situation is governed by a single set
of rules or norms shared by all participants [. . .] it is assumed that all
participants are engaged in the same game and that the game is the same
for all players. Often it is. But of course it often is not, for example, when
speakers are from different classes or cultures, or one party is exercising
authority and another is submitting to it, or questioning it.
(1998: 181)
The empirical analyses above have illustrated the play of assumptions,

norms, authority and questioning. There are two further points to make.
First, assessment genres exercise power in the internationalized classroom,
and if left unexamined, can privilege local practices and learning cultures
operating within the host university. This is all the more problematic in that
such local knowledge/practice (and therefore comfort in the local setting)
is often acquired tacitly. The first analysis showed how nonlocal students
worked to find out the implicit rules behind the desired genres. Their anx-
ieties were understood to arise from uncertainties about the relevance of
their prior textual and educational experiences. The precipitated use of
model texts (what could be termed ‘show-how’) provided some support in
the absence of explicit ‘know-how’. Given the entry-point intake of inter-
national students, such trouble was perhaps predictable and could have
been better managed with a more conscious strategy of offering high status
models (rules of recognition) with explicit guidelines for constructing such
texts (rules of realization) and permissible degrees of flexibility. This strat-
egy would help all students in one sense, but in another, would merely work
to sustain and reproduce the ‘single set of rules’, that is, the local learning
culture, by inducting the guest into how things are to be done ‘here’.
Second, local assessment genres could be subject to change when new
participants contribute to the genre’s intertextual chain. The emergence of
an autoethnographic move in some of the workplace scenarios reflected the
fact that the readership for these texts had shifted and the genre structure
had to accommodate a more complex, fractured ‘context of culture’ where
shared premises of local knowledge could not be presumed. That some
‘domestic’ students included an autoethnographic move suggests that they
were venturing into the virtual translocality on more postnational terms,
where everybody is cast as a visitor and nothing can be taken for granted.
It is the tactic of troubling any privileged local frame, so that it cannot
operate as the unexamined default, which I want to highlight as the key to
‘postnational’ pedagogy. In the Introduction to this chapter, it was argued
that pedagogic design could promote and nurture certain orientations.
There is the capacity and the power in assessment regimes to consciously
shape how students orient to the learning experience and its relations.
Rather than just reading these potentials as risks or problems, they can
equally be seen as potential devices to exploit, and potentials with which
to craft a virtual translocality in which all students get to participate as
transnational visitors, in transit beyond their local frames. By dislocating
the ‘domestic’ student from familiar, presumed defaults, a postnational
pedagogy would assist them to recognize and assess their own local frames
from a distance, as they are thrown into relief through contact with other
contexts and their associated frames.
To this end, any assessment genre in which students are required to
draw from local experiences or contexts should also formally require an
autoethnographic move. This move would explicitly contextualize any local
particulars with reference to broader settings – be they global trends,
national policies, regional debates or local histories – that transnational
peers may need spelt out in order to engage with the material. Looking
outwards, this would force students to explore and understand global
interconnectedness as well as local particularity, similarity, confluence and

contact as well as difference. Looking inwards, it would also bring presumed
local knowledge to the surface for scholarly scrutiny. Postnational pedagogy,
ironically, means making the variety of operative national and local frames
visible, in order to explore their interactions with transnational flows and
identities. Online internationalized learning supports such explorations as
one of its unique affordances.
Chapter 8
New Learning Cultures: Identities, Media

and Networks
Jay Lemke and Caspar van Helden

University of Michigan, USA
Introduction: identity, community and learning
In this chapter we will offer some elements of a re-conceptualization of

the relations among identity, community and culture that we believe are
necessary to support lifelong learning in highly diverse online and off-line
social networks. We will synthesize arguments supported by research on
new learner biographies, the role of popular culture media in youth identity
projects, and the marketing of identities and cultures in commercial mass
media.
Learning is an aspect of personal (and community) development that is
never not happening. Significant learning is that which is sustained over
longer time scales by connections with our identities: not just who we say we
are, but how we typically respond – our dispositions, habits, preferences and
values. Our life biographies and our learning biographies are increasingly
indistinguishable, and both in living and learning we participate in diverse,
multiple communities, each with its own culture of resources and models
for identity development. For many new learners (Diepstraten et al. 2006)
and active users of internet-based resources, cultural diversity is increas-
ingly being framed by social identities produced in significant part through
participation in online communities and social networks.
For all learners, and particularly for younger ones, popular culture media
and personal social networks (including online communities) represent
two key sources of identity models and cultural resources for affiliation
and identification. Popular culture media for young people today include
not only television, film, magazines, music and books, but also video and
computer games, commercial media websites and media in all these genres
distributed online (e.g. through iTunes, YouTube, MySpace, Facebook and
other sites).
Identity and affiliation today are increasingly sites of contestation between
market forces aiming to recruit consumer loyalties through popular culture
media and individuals and social networks seeking to re-appropriate pop-
ular culture content and forms for our own purposes. As we ‘potential
customers’ live our lives more unpredictably, jumping across sites, activities,
media and communities (our traversals), marketing strategies respond by
distributing consumer-identity cultures across multiple media that can span
these sites and activities (their transmedia). We will argue that such media-
based identities are always already differentiated and hierarchized in ways
that try to harmonize the twin goals of recruiting consumers for products
and reinforcing dominant beliefs and values. Individuals and our informal
communities, however, transform and re-appropriate media to fashion iden-
tities and subcultures that may often be subversive of marketing messages
and dominant economic interests.
Contemporary culture, accordingly, has become more and more a het-
eroglot mix of marketed identities and media cultures in uneasy relation
with the spontaneous productions of individuals and online communities.
All draw on traditional ethnic/national, class/age, gender/sexuality and
other subculture resources and values in the creation of specific identities,
preferences and practices, but the results are far less well-defined and stable
than the term ‘culture’ normally implies.
What are the implications of such an analysis for education? Both for
traditional schooling and for alternative, at least partly online, learning
networks?
If we are to help design better learning support systems for the future, we
will need to re-conceptualize both ‘cultural diversity’ and ‘identity’ in less
categorical terms and analyze them more fully across multiple time scales.
Educational support systems for the most part have stubbornly ignored
basic changes to contemporary learning cultures. School curricula disdain
the popular culture capital, which forms a primary identity resource for stu-
dents. School-based learning cuts itself off from the social networks, online
communities and peer- and media-based learning practices of students.
Nonschool learning may be far more effective in connecting with students’
identities and therefore in contributing to long-term development than is
school-based learning, most of which is forgotten within months.
Online learning networks comprise many kinds of communities and
potential learning environments. They do not need to repeat the errors and
failure of school-based education, and if they remain more in the control
of their users, then we can imagine how they might form effective bridges
New Learning Cultures 153
between interest-based and identity-based learning on the one hand and

whatever new shape traditional education may take on the other.
Individual identities and community cultures today are dynamically
responsive to immediate opportunities. They are highly adaptable constel-
lations of identifications and affiliations, with threads of continuity braided
into unique life-and-learning biographies. It is the individual and unique
differences among participants, resulting from their traversals across and
participation in multiple other communities, which matter for the richness
of learning opportunities in any particular community.
Our arguments in this chapter lead us to conclude that the structural
design of school-based, classroom-centred, standardized-curriculum edu-
cation is irremediably dysfunctional. We need to envision alternative sup-
port systems for lifelong learning across multiple sites, communities and
timescales. We need to imagine online learning networks grounded far
more in the cultures and identities of their users.
New learning biographies and social networks
The culture of online learning will inevitably evolve in the directions being
pioneered by young people today, particularly by those who are not satisfied
with current educational options and are finding alternative ways to educate
themselves.
The European Union and other political entities have been producing
volumes of reports and recommendations over the last decade or so that
describe the ‘desired’ future for learning and education (e.g. Council of
the European Union (2001); European Commission 2001; OECD 2004).
Many of these documents speak of globalization, knowledge economies,
competing with other economic blocs and preparing our youth to handle
this challenge. They also speak of education support structures that should
more thoroughly involve the learners, and even integrate much better into
their lives and lifestyles, taking into account rapidly changing paradigms
of employability, economic productivity and personal interests and devel-
opment. In short, a lot is being said about what kind of future we think
we are approaching, but in reality, not much is known about how realistic
these predictions may be, nor how today’s new generations of learners may
feel about being pressed into a mould that claims not to be one. The goals
of increased freedom, flexibility, adaptation, life-long learning and rapid
traversals among careers and knowledge domains seem to somehow create
a grand buffet of opportunities, but in this nonetheless rather conservative
vision we may still be stuck with learning at someone else’s buffet.
There are few education experts or politicians today who believe our
present formal educational systems are doing a good job. In The Nether-
lands, a full parliamentary investigation (the most serious tool the par-
liament has to critique ministerial policies) has recently investigated how
decades of educational science, policy and reform could get it so wrong
(Tweede Kamer [Netherlands Parliament] 2007). However, the investiga-
tion, most likely, will bring us little to work with in the end, if only because no
mere reform of an enormous, ponderous formal educational system could
possibly serve the needs and desires of today’s trendsetting learners, who are
looking to smaller-scale, more genuinely relevant and adaptable social net-
works for their learning (Diepstraten 2006). There are several reasons why
traditional systems are failing. One is that few university Faculties of Edu-
cation are actually investigating possible new futures for education. All we
seem to do is try to keep fixing the broken system we have, or else we ‘exper-
iment’ with well-intended initiatives that may help small numbers of socially
marginalized students here or there. None of our big ideas about schooling
reform look to be both scalable and affordable, and certainly none of them
seem to offer genuine hope for radically new social approaches to the future
of our society and our planet. A second reason is simply the inherent con-
tradiction in any mega-scale, hierarchically organized system trying to teach
people swift, creative, tailored adaptation to rapidly changing conditions.
Another factor is that education is itself a powerful establishment force with
a vested interest in maintaining the status quo, in society and for itself, so
as to not be rendered obsolete. Most important, perhaps, our large-scale
mass education systems have only been able to survive for as long as they
have because no other institutions in our society were able to take over
their market share in the attention economy (Davenport & Beck 2001). Com-
mercial popular culture, however, integrated with sophisticated marketing
machinery and new technological developments, has now successfully con-
quered a large market share of our students’ attention. And where more of
the attention is, more of the learning takes place (cf. Lankshear & Knobel
2006, chapter 5).
The rise of the modern media empires and the success of the social
science of marketing have created successful new techniques to capture
and develop the interests and attention of consumers. The marketers have
realized what we forgot in our classrooms while we were busy handing out
‘information’ to students: the relationships among interests, learning and
identity. Even when education specialists recognized the role of students’
identities, we refused to integrate the key elements that would make most
students become passionate about learning: we ignored their own inter-
ests beyond our predetermined, one-size-fits-all curricula, their values when
they were not our own, their feelings and emotions and the processes of
identification between their worlds (interests, values, feelings and emotions)

and what we may call the popular culture social capital that does address what
education does not, and is therefore meaningful for students in ways the
curriculum is not (e.g. Alvermann et al. 1999; Moje & van Helden 2005;
Lankshear & Knobel 2006). ‘Popular culture social capital’ here refers to
the peer-group value within social networks of being able to talk knowledge-
ably and often also critically about the content of popular media, old and
new (television, film, music, internet media, etc.).
Recent sociological research shows that most ‘trendsetting learners’ who
are living the globalized, individualized, lifelong-learning biography that
policymakers think is ideally adapted for the twenty-first century, found their
formal education to be an obstruction to their development. Not merely
unhelpful, or only slightly helpful, but definitely counter-productive, dimin-
ishing their chances in the real world, as well as an uncomfortable, boring
and (for society) ruinously expensive process (du Bois-Reymond & Walther
1999; Diepstraten et al. 2006). Trendsetting learners (who are mostly in
their late twenties and early to middle thirties) by and large name two other
components of their lives as keys to their career and personal success: pop-
ular cultural capital and strategic social networking. Strategic networking
is the practice of combining popular culture capital and the social capi-
tal of meeting like-minded people online and offline to find those whose
knowledge can be shared and can be mobilized towards one’s own goals.
These concepts are, of course, re-framings of Bourdieu’s influential notions
of cultural and social capital (Bourdieu 1979, 1990). Diepstraten’s research
is particularly disturbing in that it reveals opportunities our educational
systems have missed to effectively support learners.
Commercial popular culture is not an innocent resource for anyone,
including young people, online or offline. It pushes an agenda of what
is now sometimes called by corporations and marketers coordinated lifestyle
reinforcement (Bogart 1994): the synergies (for profit) of linking consumer
identities with a wide range of different products and services (see the dis-
cussion of ‘identity markets’ below). Meanwhile, educational systems are
not offering young people effective support in dealing with these powerful
forces critically. Popular culture and popular media, old and new, and stu-
dents’ pervasive practices in consuming such media offline and online, by
computer networking, mobile phones and game devices, are simply invisi-
ble, as if by fiat, to the world of schools and ‘serious education’. Considering
our governments’ extreme focus on ‘the economy’ and strong involvement
with business in general it may not be a surprise that formal education does
nothing to support critical consumption of marketing media, but it is at
least the duty of educators to talk with students about a phenomenon that
engulfs them (and us) ‘24/7’: commercial popular culture. The culture of
most online learning, which is that of informal, voluntary learning, is also

that of popular media and marketing. Much of informal online learning
today consists of what young people make and re-make of popular media cul-
ture as they use it and re-appropriate it for their own worlds and purposes
(Alvermann 2002; Black 2006; Jenkins 2006a, 2006b; Leander & McKim
2003).
Young people are strongly invested in popular culture in many ways, and
use popular culture in many ways, including ways that are not ‘intended’.
Even these processes of subversion or deviation, however, are now often
acknowledged and appropriated by the marketers’ media, and become part
of the more complete media cycle in which we spin. Marketers seek to co-
opt even consumers’ sceptical stances to marketing media. For example:
‘underground’ music is imitated and incorporated quickly by major record
labels. Popular culture immersion, though, is only one side of the story.
Apart from the individual media consumed and produced, the meanings
made and the products bought as a result of them, the associated popular
culture capital also serves to generate and amplify identifications that, for
better or worse, draw substantial time and attention away from even well-
intended curricula.
Media invite identification by creating interests, emotions and desires
in the products they display: the type of pretty girl you like drinks Diet
Coke; the kind of sexy, athletic boy you like wears Abercrombie shorts. How
can classrooms compete? What is the probability in today’s curriculum and
educational accountability climate of a highly engaging lesson on the chem-
istry of Diet Coke? Or on the third-world cotton fields and sweatshops from
which come Abercrombie shorts? These are obvious pedagogical tasks our
educational systems should be concerned with, but don’t seem to be able
or willing to pursue. It seems a very uneven competition if we compare edu-
cational media, even at its best, with the ads, the TV shows, the clubs and
sponsored parties, the music, the products, and the network of friends who
identify with similar media and products: a transmedia complex in which
generations of young people are already integrated, and one that is satu-
rated with sensuality, feeling and desire, and presented with visual beauty,
exciting sound and even through live participatory events. There are lessons
to be learned from these competitors for the hearts and minds of today’s
learners, but they are not ones that can be implemented in the educational
systems we have now. The systems will have to change in such a way that
they can adapt to and implement these lessons and respond to the new
ways in which young people are learning. The alternative, that commercial
interests will successfully market attractive new, more explicitly educational
media to affluent families, leaving other students even more marginalized,
is a very real, and socially dangerous one (Lemke 2007).
du Bois-Reymond favours supporting the development of ‘valid learn-

ing biographies’, co-produced between learner and institution (du Bois-
Reymond & Moerch 2006). A ‘valid learning biography’ is a trajectory of
actual learning experiences, which represents an interactive history with
education in the broadest sense. It is ‘valid’ in the sense that holistically it
is both viable for and valuable to the learner, and will help the learner to
build the careers and life(styles) that she or he desires. Only in this way,
she claims, can we have a chance of addressing the complexity of a young
person’s life and future, and have at least a chance of offering real, effec-
tive support. As long as traditional educational institutions keep insisting
on rigid, linear learning structures rather than flexible, accommodating
and innovative support systems, more and more young adults will fail to be
successful in leading satisfying and productive lives. These conclusions are
based not only on interviews with young adults but also on sociological anal-
yses (as discussed below) of the complex trajectories of young people today
into and out of the formal educational system, transitions to the world of
work, and new highly nonlinear career trajectories. We want to argue that in
order to consider even the first steps that educational systems might make
to help young people succeed with these new learning biographies, we have
to take a much closer look at why and how popular culture capital, identifi-
cation and social networking play such a crucial role in young people’s lives
today. We need to study how meanings are made in and between all these
sites, networks and processes, and ultimately abandon the old educational
fortresses before they collapse on top of us. It’s not the institution of school-
ing that we primarily need to study and reform, it’s the complex dynamic
between learning biographies and media complexes that we believe ought
to be the focus of future research on new educational alternatives.
Understanding the new translations (Latour 1987) that are taking place
within that dynamic today can potentially tell us how to re-envision and
re-engineer social support systems for learning that go beyond both the
offline culture of schools and the online culture of media. In re-defining
the object of education research away from ‘research on education as we
do it now through schools’ and towards refining our understanding of how
people learn through life: at home, at play, at work, in schools and especially
through social networks, popular culture media and new online networked
communities, it may be useful to apply Latour’s concept of ‘actor networks’
in which we ‘follow the actors’ – whether humans, artefacts or concepts –
as they are ‘translated’ from place to place by their interactions with one
another, acquiring new properties and meanings from their changing roles
in changing networks and spaces (Latour 1987, 1999). The European Union
(European Commission 2001) and much current youth sociology there (e.g.
Chisholm 2000; du Bois-Reymond & Chisholm (in press; du Bois-Reymond
et al. 2001; Diepstraten et al. 2006) has redefined ‘lifelong learning’ from
a cliché that in practice has meant little more than periodic returns to
the irrelevancies of school-based learning to a new vision of learning in all
settings, where the true educational task is to support people in integrat-
ing and synthesizing all that we learn from so many sources and through
so many activities (see also OECD 2004). How can better ‘networks’ (in
Latour’s sense, broader than the narrower ICT sense) be built to support
such integrational learning? To answer this we at least need to know much
more about how current integrational or traversal (Lemke 2002b and Lemke
forthcoming) learning is now occurring.
We will return to this concern later. We want to examine first the kinds of
linkages between learning and identity that appear to be making commer-
cial media superior competitors in the attentional economies of lifelong
learning.
Media culture and identity
Popular culture capital is often an entrée to new social networks as well as

a key topical medium for that phatic communion (Jackobson 1960), which
helps maintain and nourish social solidarity in affinity groups. But reliance
on popular culture media to help develop our social identities also opens
us up to the covert messages and implicit ideologies they carry. Individuals
and communities do in fact re-interpret and re-appropriate the beliefs,
values and naturalizations inherent in popular culture worlds, but there is
an on-going dialectic of implicit acceptance versus active re-appropriation.
We are accustomed to thinking in terms of a radical imbalance of power
between corporate media producers and distributors versus individual con-
sumers, but recent research and arguments examining the ‘fan communi-
ties’ around television programs, computer games, movies and the more
complex transmedia franchises (Jenkins 2006a), which may link all of these
media (and more) together suggest the emergence of a different picture
(Lemke 2005a and Lemke forthcoming), consider for example the Harry
Potter franchise, one of the most popular in the world today, with partic-
ular relevance for both young learners and the formation of attitudes to
schooling. In addition to the seven principal books, four feature films (as of
2007), six or more computer games, numerous official websites and endless
branded merchandise from toys to candy, which form the ‘franchise’ proper,
there are also, for example, over three hundred thousand fan-authored online
stories set in the Potter universe, and substantial numbers of fan-produced
art works, music videos and detailed analyses and commentaries on both
the official stories and the fan-produced work (see links to representative
websites following the References section). Fan-authored fiction, in par-

ticular, has now begun to receive serious scholarly attention (Black 2006;
Jenkins 2006a), and a significant phenomenon within this genre will illus-
trate re-appropriation for us particularly well.
Unselfconsciously, the official Harry Potter world re-inscribes the cultural
values of Anglo-Saxon heteronormativity, but a significant genre within its
fan fiction community is so-called ‘slash fiction’, for example, ‘Harry/Ron’
stories elaborating the romantic involvement of Harry Potter with his ‘best
friend’ Ron Weasley). Such stories are written by young women, almost
exclusively. This genre is very similar to some popular culture fiction tradi-
tions in Japan (yaoi, doushinji) but appears to be an independent, parallel
development. While no doubt re-inscribing some traditional ideologies of
romantic love, the subversion of the otherwise powerful taboo on same-
sex relationships, particularly among young boys, shows the potential not
just of individual writers, but of large mutually supportive online commu-
nities to re-appropriate popular culture media and identities in potentially
transgressive ways.
Slash fiction occurs for most of the popular transmedia franchises of
the day, from Star Wars to Star Trek, Naruto, The Lord of the Rings, etc. It
occurs within very large online fan communities (tens to hundreds of thou-
sands of members), where all genres of fan fiction, fan art, fan-made videos,
commentaries, discussions, etc., thrive. The meanings and significance, the
range of possibilities for identity development, the ‘culture’ of the transme-
dia complexes and their fan communities depend not just on the official
‘franchised’ media, but on an intertextual system, which also includes the
large-scale fan production of collateral media. For readers who may imagine
that such fan communities are mere by-ways in the general mass consump-
tion of popular culture media, it is perhaps worth pointing out that the
combination of passionate fan interest, the daunting complexity of these
transmedia worlds and the potential social capital and desire for social shar-
ing and affinity group acceptance, make the online fan-produced media
and discussion websites a customary resource for the even larger numbers
of consumers of these media who are not themselves active producers of
fan media. In the case of complex computer games such as the Final Fantasy
series and many others, it is hard to imagine playing them seriously without
seeking some online advice and assistance.
We suspect there will be academic readers who disdain popular culture
media especially when it is oriented to youth markets, and who are sceptical
of its political significance. We will simply mention that another of the most
successful transmedia franchises and online communities is based on the
computer game America’s Army, produced by the US military as a recruitment
tool and a vehicle for teaching about US military doctrine, and proudly or
unselfconsciously propagating its questionable geopolitical assumptions.
Equally significant, we think, is the general thesis that corporate mar-
keting sells ‘lifestyles’, or in our terminology, identities, which incline con-
sumers to become their customers. In the case of popular culture media,
there is no clear line between what counts as the product and what counts
as marketing for the product (look at the official websites for any of the
major fictional universe franchises, or of current ‘blockbuster’ movies).
What marketers call ‘synergy’ – the linking of their marketing strategies for
products, corporate identities, and consumer identities through films, tele-
vision, music, games and websites – produces transmedia complexes, which,
we have argued (Lemke 2005a and Lemke forthcoming), are potentially
far more effective carriers of ideological messages than are traditional sin-
gle media, because they are pervasively available across many different sites
and activities in daily life, and because they invite or demand an exceptional
degree of buy-in by consumers. The latter is occasioned by the degree of
consumer effort required to synthesize meanings across these many media
in order to obtain the popular culture capital and social-networking benefits
of time invested in such transmedia products.
Marketers, and, if you wish, corporate-globalist propagandists, have felt
somewhat thwarted in recent times by the advent first of cable-television
viewing habits (channel-surfing, advertisement muting) and then of the
diversion of ‘eye-balls’ (time and attention) from earlier marketing media
like television to websites, video and computer games, mobile phone sub-
cultures, internet chat, online blogs, etc. In seeking to more effectively
colonize these more diverse and, from their point of view, message-diluting
media, marketers have turned to transmedia strategies, which enable them
to keep their messages (and ideological naturalizations) in view in ways that
are more integrated with the media content themselves (e.g. Bogart 1994).
Corporate advertising has never just sold products (Williamson 1978), and
its methods are now also the primary communicative strategy of political
interest groups as well. Who can doubt that transmedia analysis methods
would apply just as well to The Iraq War franchise as to any fictional complex?
Today wars are marketed just like the games that simulate them.
When we consumers attention-surf across hundreds of channels and mil-
lions of websites, or even go out and leave our houses and televisions behind,
we enact traversals (Lemke 2005b and Lemke forthcoming) that marketers
seek to encompass in their wide-ranging transmedia webs. A transmedia
franchise, whether fictional or merely political, ramifies through our televi-
sions, computers, mobile phones and friendship groups. The systematically
differentiated and hierarchized collections of standardized consumer iden-
tities defined and proffered by transmedia corporate marketers – what we
are calling here identity markets – can still become merely resources for indi-
vidual and group identity construction along our traversals. In a very post-
modern spirit, young fans edit together moments from commercial films to
make their own, sometimes very transgressive, versions of the Harry Potter
or Star Wars mythos. They post these to hosting sites such as YouTube.com as
well as to fan sites like The Leaky Cauldron. Corporate identity cauldrons are
leaky indeed in the hands of these consumer-producers.
Online cultures and learning
What are we to make then of the notion of ‘online culture’ in relation to the
learning potential of such fan communities? There is a curious notion inher-
ited from the nationalist eighteenth and nineteenth centuries in Europe,
by way of the early cultural anthropology of those times, that ‘cultures’ are,
if not homogeneous, at least significant primarily insofar as they are shared.
But a more recent view in cultural anthropology (since Wallace 1970) is that
social systems are ordered heterogeneities held together not so much by
shared values as by our mutual interdependence on one another’s diverse
skills and knowledge. Postmodern cultures cohere because we need each
other, not because we resemble one another, or indeed even very much
like one another. Our modern communities, whether great metropolitan
cities or even smaller towns, are filled with a broad diversity of often con-
flicting religions and cultures, yet for all that we are still bound together by
our economic and practical dependence on one another’s existence and
efforts. Historically, men’s cultures and women’s cultures in the same com-
munity were often quite different (for all that men pretended otherwise),
yet remained bound together by mutual interdependence.
Online communities are no different. It is the diversity and divisions of
labour within such communities that produce the added value for each
member (Levy 1997). Yes, we flock together around our shared passions for
this or that, but we benefit most not from communities of our own clones,
but from the different points of view, distinct experiences and diverse contri-
butions of other members. We have learned in recent years a great deal more
about the role of online culture and new media in the lives of school-age stu-
dents and something of how they are and are not being integrated into class-
room education (e.g. Lankshear & Knobel 2003; Leander 2003; Lankshear
& Knobel 2006). Lankshear et al. in particular have criticized approaches to
co-opting ‘the digital’ into national curricula rather than thinking through
how digital literacies might change the relationship between students and
the wider society. They imagine that schools might evolve, as universities
have, into knowledge-generating institutions for their communities, as well
as being sites of knowledge transmission. Such an approach might well rep-

resent one new educational option that we could endorse, insofar as making
such contributions also represents a rich learning opportunity for students.
But the experience of universities may indicate that the agendas of knowl-
edge generation inevitably sit very uneasily alongside any canons of what
knowledge must be taught. The former are responsive to and emergent
from local contexts, while the latter remain relatively static and compara-
tively uninspiring for more present-oriented learners.
How different all this is from the ‘culture’ of schools and their one-
size-fits-all curricula. Natural human communities, whether in village or
neighbourhood societies or online, promote learning across difference:
we learn from elders and by teaching juniors, we learn from peers who
have a different view of things from our own (Lemke 2002a). We discover
online that our interests, but not our attitudes, are shared by Japanese,
Korean and Finnish gamers, readers and fellow producers of fan-made
media. There are canonical texts, but not authoritative readings (not even
those of authors or producers). There are familiar genres, but fan-made
works are valued for their unique ‘twists’ (and often for their transgressions).
The fan communities are created, maintained, run and managed by fans
themselves, not by paternalistic elders. The communities appropriate and
transform what the commercial media offer; they do not simply reproduce
it. Along the way, members learn from one another, often by the route of
apprenticeship to more experienced peers (Lave & Wenger 2002[1990]),
and often far more effectively than in schools (Alvermann et al., 1999;
Alvermann 2002; Steinkuehler et al. 2005; Black 2006), how to improve their
writing, their visual design, their web skills, their video editing and in similar
contexts in other online peer communities their computer programming,
their research skills, their music, etc.
The official culture of schools, in contrast, is authoritarian and morally
offensive. Rather than an educational support system that makes available,
as resources for new production, the valued art, literature, music and knowl-
edge of the world’s cultural traditions, we have allowed ourselves to settle for
an institution that attempts to force the next generation to simply emulate
the last, which imposes an arbitrary canon of ‘content’ on mostly unwill-
ing students, and which propagates a single, still mostly upper-middle-class,
nationalistic or euro-cultural, masculinist and heteronormative curriculum
of very little demonstrable value to most people’s real daily lives. We are
not speaking here of basic primary education, some of which is enlightened
and playful in its activities, and much of which is actually of use (though
many primary schools are still culturally diverse only in their students and
not in their teachers or curriculum). We are talking about all that follows
those first years, up to the point where students are finally allowed to choose
what they wish to learn. Is it a surprise that students are alienated from our
current educational systems? That they do not wait until after their formal
schooling to begin the real work of their identity development or learning
about what really interests them and how to discuss it? That they turn to
peers, to online communities, to social networks, to mass media and popu-
lar culture? Or that this is happening even while educators, curricula and
indeed most adults steadfastly ignore everything that matters to our students
in their worlds outside of the school?
When students genuinely seek to learn, to what kinds of communities,
with what sorts of norms and practices do they turn? They turn to more
knowledgeable peers, because they cannot trust ‘adults’ to treat them demo-
cratically rather than paternalistically (much as women often prefer learn-
ing communities that exclude men). They turn to communities that are
engaged in projects over fairly long periods of time, where there are oppor-
tunities to do something, make something, share something that really
matters to the members. They turn to communities where there is a pas-
sion for what is being done and learned. None of these are features of our
ruinously expensive formal learning institutions. Schools do not draw on
the diverse experiences of students, but impose a single voice on all. They
do not encourage and support students to develop unique learning and
experiences, unique voices or viewpoints. They are famously intolerant of
creativity and transgressive attitudes. They prefer readers to writers, learners
to peer-teachers, answers to questions and consumers to producers. They
imagine that pencil-and-paper tests, done in an hour or less, can give valid
indications of intellectual and social-emotional development or the ability
to conduct long-term, self-guided or group projects. Or, worse, that what
such tests can indicate is more important, or more fundamental, than what
students, parents, employers and educational leaders generally agree are
the ultimate goals of learning (e.g. critical judgment, learning autonomy,
skilled collaboration, etc.).
Long ago, the alternative to the free public school was the free public
library, but solitary study appeals to only a few, even if it brings the freedom
to pursue your own interests, in your own way, at your own pace. The
great benefit of the school is the opportunity to ask your questions of a
knowledgeable teacher, and to get some guidance as to what knowledge
might really be useful to your quest. But how often in classrooms do students
get the opportunity to ask the questions they really want to ask? Without their
being refused as ‘off the topic’? What guidance do teachers typically give
students to the world of knowledge that is relevant to the students’ interests
and concerns? What teachers could give to students, the curriculum and the
structure of the institution (short classes, large classes, overloaded content
demands) typically prevent.
The Web is, among its other functions, a library online. Online communi-
ties and their portal sites give guidance for learning on topics of interest to
participants, and opportunities to join in projects. Mentors in online com-
munities are unpaid volunteers, eager to help those who share their interests
and passions. They are not well trained as teachers; they may provide mis-
information (though this is less common in specialized communities where
others readily correct them). Online communities are not just informa-
tion resources; they are social networks, and often communities in the true
sense. The degree of participation is voluntary; you can be a core member
of the community, intellectually and socially, or you can drop in and out for
what you need. The core community is usually a small fraction of all those
who may participate over the course of a day or a week, yet it maintains its
cohesion and direction. Online learning communities are hybrids of strong
communities with tight binding and loose communities with weak binding
(Wellman et al. 1996; Müller-Prothmann 2006). Correspondingly, their cul-
tures consist of a certain core culture with a periphery that is more tolerant
of diverse perspectives. It is possible to enter these communities and move
from peripheral to core participant, and it is equally possible to come and
go and to be left alone. Unlike schools, online communities have a culture
of weak recruitment. They may entice, but they do not pressure, much less
compel. Schools, even after the abhorrent age of corporal punishments,
still do discipline bodies and enforce their demands on students through
physical imprisonment. Online communities have had to evolve a different
culture of learning because they have virtually no leverage over participants’
bodies, and only a little over their sensibilities.
Affectivity and learning
Several times already we have referred to the passionate commitment to

their projects in online communities. Learning the complexities of many of
these fictional franchise worlds, or successfully completing the challenges
of computer games, takes a great deal of effort and commitment. So does
regular participation in, much less formal responsibility for, online fan sites,
communities and forums. For all this time and labour, the activity itself is
its own and only reward. These are labours of love, fuelled by passionate
interests and desires. Students who would not spend more than 10 minutes
on homework or textbook reading will spend 6 or 8 hours a day on their
passions. Students who can hardly be coaxed to write two sentences or half
a page, will write dozens (and hundreds) of pages about their passions.
Students who cannot recall facts of history or science a day after the exami-
nation can recount minute details of computer and video games they have
played, or stories they have read, months and years later. If very few students
find any convergence between their passions and what is offered in school,
whose fault is that? And whose loss is it?
It is not news that we learn more readily what matters to us emotionally
and in relation to our identities and our participation in affinity groups.
Or that we then recall it longer and are better able to marshal it when
occasion arises to make some use of it. But the only emotion to be found in
most educational materials is that of dry disinterestedness, our legacy from
the turbulent politics of the days of Boyle and Hobbes (Shapin & Schaffer
1989) that defined the official scientific stance of academic learning as dis-
passionateness. That mistrust of feeling and subjectivity has also deprived us
of needed research and even a theoretical vocabulary with which to discuss
the role of passion in learning, and in the culture of learning communities.
What are the passions that support learning, retention and future use of
knowledge and skills? What are the affective dimensions of social-emotional
and intellectual development? What do we really mean by excitement, curiosity,
playfulness or the joy of discovery? What are the actual emotional trajecto-
ries of learners over longer periods of time? What are the roles of other
emotional processes that we term frustration, drive, conflict, anxiety or pride?
What of the social emotions of solidarity, friendship, enmity, jealousy, guilt and
gratitude? Do we doubt that all these and more play key roles in our learning
processes over multiple time scales from minutes to years? Or that they are
fundamental to social processes of learning?
Roland Barthes, speaking of the pleasures of the text in literature, used
the French term jouissance, with its connotations of erotic pleasure, very
deliberately (Barthes 1979). Feelings are strongly embodied, and in the
realm of bodily feelings and sensations there are no clear demarcations
between erotic and other somatic desires, pleasures and pains. If Anglo-
Saxon academic traditions viscerally reject such matters as peripheral to
intellectual inquiry, if some of us may breathe a sigh of relief at no longer
having to engage with Freudian theory, there are many colleagues in other
cultural traditions who are not so skittish. You cannot read Harry/Ron slash
fiction without awareness of its erotic pleasures, or experience the ilinx (a
pleasure of vertigo; Caillois 1961) of diving through aerial space in a virtual
game of quidditch with Harry Potter , and not realize that no analysis of the
semiotics of fiction, film or videogames can be intellectually defensible if it
does not also consider reader, viewer and player feelings. This is especially
obvious for computer games, where interactivity is fundamental, and player
moves that advance the game depend on player emotional reactions, fears
and desires. It’s no less true in more traditional media. Popular culture
media, including marketing media, have always played on the edges of
the erotic, and have always appealed to emotional responses, yet we have
relatively little well-developed theoretical language to give accounts of these

basic phenomena.
One reason is academic psychology’s historic rejection of subjective
accounts as valid data. Perhaps this was justified in a particular moment
of the discipline’s development, but it seems very clear today that we need
to combine first-person phenomenological accounts of experience and feel-
ing with third-person semiotic analyses of meanings and affordances, if we
are to give adequate accounts of how people learn with media and social
networks or provide useful guidance for the design of effective learning
media, environments and communities.
New educational options
‘New educational options’ does not mean new and better schools. The
technology of the school, its fundamental structural design for learning is
today obsolete and dysfunctional (Lemke 2007). Most of our new learning
theories hold this obvious implication, but we prefer to look the other way
because we are afraid of the consequences. The dangers must be faced, but
so must the necessity for new kinds of learning and new ways to support
learning. It may not be customary in academic writing to go beyond recita-
tion of facts and their conceptual explication, but it seems morally necessary
here to draw out what we see as the significant social policy implications of
our argument.
Schools isolate students from the rest of society, but we know that they
learn best by combining immersion in realistic, meaningful social activi-
ties with periods of critical reflection. Schools provide teachers, but not
sufficient time for individual contact with students, nor the extended time
scales of persistent relationships between one teacher and one student for
the years needed to understand and guide individual learning. Schools
divide life into artificial ‘subjects’ and teach about them in abstract terms,
which are meaningless to students who have never experienced what those
abstractions stand for. Students are taught to do well on tests that bear
no resemblance to the activities of life, and whose results have no cor-
relation with later success in those activities. Students learn to do tasks
limited to time scales of minutes or hours, and do not learn to manage
their own learning or complete tasks that take planning, revision and exe-
cution over weeks and months. Students are expected, indeed forced, to
learn what does not interest them, at the same time and place as everyone
else, and it is not surprising that they promptly forget most of what they
learned within days or weeks. This is the situation most of the time, in most
schools, in most classes, because these problems are structural features of the
school-curriculum-classroom model of education. Dedicated teachers and

willing students sometimes achieve significant learning despite these struc-
tural obstacles, but that is no recommendation for the system itself, nor
does it really happen often enough to produce what we would want to call
a truly educated citizenry.
Critical studies in the field of literacy education (e.g. New London Group
1995; Kress 2003), with which we generally agree, have called for educational
paradigms that focus more on the authentic empowerment of students,
particularly with respect to their abilities to create and critique old and new
media and to use these for their own purposes and in their own interests.
Although clearly highlighting the political and power/interest dimensions
of educational practices, they have at most proposed that new media and
online learning offer additional educational opportunities, but have not, as
we have sought to do here, directly challenged the institutional structures
and educational assumptions of schooling itself as a social technology.
Online informal learning and classroom learning are built on competing
paradigms, which do not live well together. Online learning builds on the
library paradigm: find what you want to know when you want to know it
because you have a reason to want to know it then: a real reason, your
own reason. More generally, online learning is conducted as a member
of a community, a natural community that has come together because of
a shared interest, not a group put together artificially by a teacher for a
project students did not initiate themselves. Classroom learning is learning
what someone else wants you to know, in their way, at their pace, in their
time and their place. It is imposed, not free by choice. There is a strong
moral obligation placed on those who would impose their choice of learning
on others to demonstrate, first, the real value of their curriculum for the
lives of students and, second, that no system grounded in greater student
autonomy produces equal or superior value for time spent. When have these
moral obligations to students ever been met?
Education is not simply learning, neither the online learning of volun-
tary communities, nor the imposed learning of schools. Education is the
development over time of knowledge, skills, attitudes and values that will
support us in pursuing our own and our community’s goals for better lives
and a better world. Schools are not doing that. Students are not becoming
better able to envision a better world; they are not learning better political
and moral judgment; they are not learning to understand the complexity
and interdependence of a global network of social and ecological systems;
they are not learning to more effectively critique an empty consumer capi-
talism; they are not learning to create their own media to intervene in the
commercially dominated transmedia complexes that are shaping our col-
lective visions of possible realities. They are not even learning very much to
make them useful as exploitable knowledge workers. They might at best be

learning to perform on tests in ways that make them eligible for a higher
education in which they might learn something that they could be under-
paid to do at work. They are also learning, through popular media and not
through schools, to be more avid consumers of more varied products and
services, and to identify with lifestyles that support consumer economies.
But some of them, as the works of DuBois-Reymond and Diepstraten
show, are learning a lot more on their own, or as members of the social
networks they join and help create, offline and online. They are learning
to use their popular culture and social capital, and to make new connec-
tions and bridges, new translations, connecting their own projects to those
of others. They are connecting work and play; they are learning to shift
rapidly among simultaneous and sequential projects, with different combi-
nations of partners, on many time scales. Schools, even higher education,
continue to ‘educate’ students for predictable careers in stable fields, which
we all know are not likely to continue to provide livelihoods for the life-
times of those now in school. The next generation of students will as often
create their own jobs as take jobs in existing enterprises. They will have
multiple careers in unpredictable occupations, projects and social groups.
They will learn to work effectively by contributing to and leveraging the
‘collective intelligence’ (Levy 1997) of different online and offline social
networks of people, information resources and very likely of computational
intelligences.
New educational options should be just that: options. There should be
means of social support for many different mixes of the key components
of the new, alternative learning biographies: online interest- and affinity-
based communities, real world meaningful activities in existing institutions,
service-oriented volunteer learning, commercial enterprise and public- and
independent-sector internships, paid and unpaid; intelligent tutoring soft-
ware and simulations, mentoring and guidance by trained educators and by
diverse people of many occupations. And also, time spent in reflective sem-
inars, face-to-face discussions and practice rooms, in buildings that might
still be called schools, but which should house only one component among
the many ways societies support lifelong learning and human development.
Of course, there will remain a place for systematic instruction, for close
work with teachers and for exposure to elements of knowledge and of
the global human tradition that might otherwise be missed. But not on a
uniform schedule, not with deadline dates or at specific ages in life. Not
by requirements, but by capitalizing on connections to other interests and
on an ancient motivator: genuine respect for the advice of a good teacher.
That respect may be easier to come by when it is not undermined by making
teachers mere delivery agents for an imposed and alienating curriculum.
We are not unmindful that the changes we are talking about are already
beginning among the more privileged sectors of society, or that they will
likely be taken up initially and preferentially by those sectors. The needs
of those who have been marginalized, economically and in terms of social
and cultural capital of all kinds, may remain different for some time to
come. More traditional approaches to education, for such students, have
the advantage of providing a road map to what is valued by the politically
dominant castes of society. Much of what is on that road map may be empty
of real-use value, but retains some of its arbitrary exchange-value as a ticket of
entry to further opportunities. It is unfortunate that these are the facts of
our unjust society, but they too need to be faced. Perhaps it is at least
more just that we have many educational alternatives, and not just one for
the privileged and another for the marginalized. It should be easier for
the marginalized to find avenues of mobility where there are more fluid
criteria of success and multiple communities and social networks offering
new opportunities.
The future of education is not about schools, and it is not about online
learning. It is about new ways of connecting all the ways that people learn. It is
not about a single ideal culture of learning in schools, or about one culture
of online learning. It is about supporting critical learning and creative
production across times and places, work and play, academic knowledge
and popular culture capital and across many different but interconnected
social networks with many diverse learning cultures.
These new educational options will need to be supported by new research
agendas. We need to know how young people are successfully learning
outside the model of the school and curriculum, no matter what it is that
they are learning. We need to know how to help support the effective
integration of learning across radically different activities, sites, institutions,
media, networks and communities. We need to understand the role of
passion, affect, emotion and feelings of all kinds in different learning and
development processes. We need to understand how people are motivated
to identify with particular elements of popular culture, particular affinity
groups and particular personal and social projects and agendas. The study
of online learning cultures is one good starting point for these inquiries. If
we do not understand these matters well enough to make a better future,
others will be happy to make us a worse one.
Conclusion: New Directions for Research in
Online Learning Cultures

In the introduction to this book we argued that we were not setting out to
fill a gap in the existing research on culture in online learning, but instead
we were trying to take the whole debate in a somewhat different direction.
This direction involves problematizing the very notion of ‘culture’ in
connection with learning in online environments. We observed, in our
discussion of some of the research literature that forms the background
to these chapters, that much of the very useful work that has been done
in this area has focused on the problems of appropriate learning design
(or ‘instructional design’, to use the culturally inflected term favoured by
our North American colleagues) for people from diverse national, ethnic,
religious and linguistic backgrounds. Without in any way wishing to detract
from the importance of this work to the many institutions, designers,
teachers and learners currently engaged in multicultural and transnational
e-learning, we set out to explore some of the implications of perhaps not
going along with Geert Hofstdede’s view that ‘in most cases you do not wish
participants in e-learning to notice’ how important culture is (Hofstede
2007: vii). Instead we wanted to draw attention to the rapidly changing face
of ‘culture’ in online education, and, even more importantly, participants’
(including the institutions’, designers’ and teachers’, as well as learners’)
active and continuing role in constructing it.
Accordingly, the contributions we solicited for this book have not focused
on issues of learning design, but have developed a number of themes around
difference and diversity in online education, which highlight the ways in
which cultural ‘problems’ are constructed. In bringing a wide range of
theoretical and practical orientations (from philosophy of education to sec-
ond language learning) to bear on the concept of ‘learning culture’, these
Conclusion: New Directions for Research in Online Learning Cultures 171
authors have focused our attention on: the nature of identities online; the
continuing importance of embodiment; the negotiation of cultures and the
limitations of essentialist approaches to cultural difference; the centrality
of language(s) and textuality; the under-acknowledged importance of the
affective dimension, including resistance and creativity; and the increas-
ingly unpredictable behaviour of technologies. In this concluding chapter
we will attempt to draw these themes together and propose two key areas in
which we have a particular interest, and which we suggest will be productive
directions for future research into ‘learning cultures’ online.
Themes in this book
A major topic in all of the chapters is the cultural identity or identities

of participants, viewed from a variety of perspectives, including how they
‘see’ themselves and those they interact with online, and how they are posi-
tioned by the social roles available in the particular learning context in
which they find themselves. The authors have focused variously on iden-
tities characterized as: ‘third’ or ‘hybrid’ (Ess, Gunawardena et al.); ‘self-
identity’ (O’Dowd); ‘cybernetic/virtual’ (O’Dowd, Macfadyen), ‘emerging’
(Develotte), ‘performed’ (Hewling, Doherty); ‘postnational’ (Doherty);
‘marketed’ (Lemke et al.), etc. In this they direct our attention to a key
aspect of culture in learning environments, which is not usually addressed
in work that is primarily concerned with the problems of design for online
learning, that is, the relation between the embodied ‘self ’ and online social
‘identity’. The question how participants’ embodied selves are engaged in
the processes of learning in online environments is addressed directly by
Ess and Mafadyen, but it is also present implicitly in the accounts given
by Gunawardena et al., O’Dowd, Develotte and Doherty, because of the
role they attribute to physical and geographic located-ness in shaping par-
ticipants’ approach to online interaction. It is implicit too, in Hewling’s
references to the ‘isolation’ of distance learners, and in Lemke et al.’s
observations on emotion and eroticism in popular culture media.
While the cultural characteristics that are thought to shape a learner’s
essential ‘self ’ have been the subject of much analysis in the research lit-
erature, the identities that participants develop through engagement with
the social and pedagogical practices of the virtual environment itself (the
national, institutional, corporate, professional, disciplinary and peer-group
practices that frame the whole undertaking of learning online) tend to be
seen as ‘social’ rather than ‘cultural’ phenomena. Four of the authors here
(Ess, Gunawardena et al., Macfadyen, Hewling) have included critiques
of the essentialist characterizations of cultural difference developed by
172 Conclusion: New Directions for Research in Online Learning Cultures
Hofstede and others, viewing these frameworks as inadequate to account

for all dimensions of culture in online interaction. They go on to deploy
the concept of ‘third’, ‘emerging’, ‘constructed’ or ‘negotiated’ cultural
systems, emphasizing the work that participants are required to do to sat-
isfactorily develop and present an identity and achieve personal goals in
online environments. They suggest that participants working together may
be able to collectively transcend individual cultural ‘hardwiring’ and cre-
ate new cultural spaces and hybridized identities. Doherty’s, Hewling’s, and
Lemke et al.’s accounts, however, indicate that in order to do so, participants
may also be required to transcend the values and systems of the powerful
institutional, pedagogical and technical communities whose virtual infras-
tructures they inhabit.
Five of the chapters have an explicit focus on language, both language as
a means of expression (Gunawardena et al., O’Dowd, Develotte, Doherty)
and more generally with language as text or genre (Macfadyen, Doherty).
The role of the English language in framing the online negotiation of cul-
tures figures implicitly in many of these accounts, and Doherty addresses it
as an issue in itself. There is a reflexive twist here for us as editors and for
some of our contributors, as we are aware that we are writing and publishing
this book for an English-speaking audience, precisely because of the current
dominance of English in the literature of online education (and indeed in
academic publishing generally, not only because of the economies of scale
available to publishers selling to vast Anglophone markets, but also because
English is the only medium deemed likely to deliver international impact to
researchers, whatever their native-writing language). We develop this point
in our discussion of ‘institutional hegemony’ below, and in the proposal to
adopt second language learning and intercultural studies research method-
ologies as a model for future research in online learning cultures, a proposal
that we make in the last section of this Conclusion.
Affect, including desire (Gunawardena et al., Lemke et al.), emotion in
general (Gunawardena et al., Develotte, Macfadyen, Lemke et al.), play and
creativity (Ess, Gunawardena et al., Macfadyen, Lemke et al.), and resis-
tance (Macfadyen, Hewling, Doherty, Lemke et al.) is discussed at length
by Lemke et al. Affect is indeed a theme which, like the topic of ‘culture’
itself, could usefully be applied to many accounts of participant behaviour
in online learning environments in order to restore the centrality of the
human experience to a research field that has become increasingly obsessed
with measurable outcomes. We address some comments on research
methodology to this theme in our discussion of psychosocial perspectives
below.
The final theme we want to draw out is again implicit in most of the
chapters, because they address cultural issues arising in online, that is,
electronic, learning environments, and Hewling addresses it directly. The

issue of how the technologies themselves are perceived as ‘players’ in the
social interaction through which online learning cultures are built, is one
that is developing in importance as systems increasingly become identified
with cultural ‘spaces’ in the universe of the Web 2.0 internet, for example,
social networking sites such as MySpace (www.myspace.com), or the virtual
reality site Second Life (www.secondlife.com) or whatever comes to supplant
these, as fashions in internet communication change. Hewling goes as far
as to extend a metaphorical ‘intent’ to technology, as the many systems
and levels of service that lie behind the screen appear to conspire in order
to surprise and sometimes frustrate their human users. In fact the conceit
of the system as player becomes less and less metaphorical with each new
development in autonomous ‘software agents’ and personalization systems,
and with each new step towards immersive virtual reality environments.
In summary, we think these contributions, and the main themes we have
identified, point to a reconceptualization of issues of culture in online learn-
ing that distinguishes between three areas of investigation. The first is what
we can call, for the purpose of this discussion, ‘cultural learning styles’, or
the preferences of individuals, which are attributable to their socialization
into specific national, ethnic, religious or other communities. This is the
area that has been the focus of most of the research into online learning,
which has used frameworks of cultural difference such as Hofstede’s. The
second, which we can call ‘cultures of learning’ (again the label itself is
not important) concerns the norms and values associated with learning in
specific institutional contexts. This area overlaps with studies of learning
in organizations, disciplinary learning and academic literacies. The third,
for which we will appropriate the term ‘learning cultures’, is the area of
emergent, informal, often innovative, collective approaches to learning in
conditions that are wholly or partially characterized by remote communica-
tion. All three perspectives are relevant to our understanding of the social
practices and communication processes that constitute online learning, but
it is the last one, ‘learning cultures’ that we want to use this book to outline
a research agenda for.
Drawing together the themes we have discussed above, we propose two
key areas where we think the major research questions for online learning
cultures lie:
1. Investigation of the processes by which institutions and corporations

develop hegemonies over the pedagogies of global online education,
and the impact of these hegemonies on the emergence of autonomous
online learning cultures.
2. Investigation of the cultural dimensions of communication in online

learning communities and the processes of negotiation of identities by
their participants.
Institutional cultural hegemony over pedagogy
We have tended, in this book, to use the expression ‘online learning/

education’, to signify the development of educational practices in virtual
environments, and while the more current term e-learning has occasionally
been used synonymously, it is our view that it tends to reflect a particular
discourse of learning that emphasizes a technical-rational view of educa-
tion rather than a humanistic one. This discourse and practice of e-learning
is becoming ever more closely associated with the management of learn-
ing for instrumental (usually economic) purposes. See, for example, Lea’s
discussion of the shift in universities from the teaching of disciplinary knowl-
edge to the management’ of learning, in Goodfellow & Lea (2007: 18–22)
or Clegg et al.’s 2003 account of globalization and e-learning in higher
education. This is an important aspect of what we are calling institutional
hegemony over pedagogy. Henderson (2007: 131) underlines this when she
asserts that the design of e-learning needs to achieve a ‘praxis between [the
learner’s culturally specific ways of thinking and doing] and the demands
of particular academic, industry and government global cultures’.
We have suggested that there is an implicit but significant connection
between the ways that national cultures are conceptualized, as occupying
positions along a continuum between ‘modern’ (individualistic, low con-
text, risk-accepting, etc.) and ‘traditional’ (collectivistic, risk-averse, high
context, etc.), and the social constructivist psychological and pedagogical
paradigm that characterizes Western/Anglo approaches to online learn-
ing. The practices of online collaborative learning, for example, favour
dispositions that are associated with so-called Western cultural types: inde-
pendence, low power-distance, acceptance of risk and low context, etc., and
the pedagogy of e-learning is strongly influenced by the equation of learner-
centred and collaborative interaction with empowerment. McCarty (2007),
in an account of the introduction of social-constructivist pedagogies and
online learning to Japanese teacher education, argues that the ‘globalized
classroom’ and ‘transformative learning and empowerment’ may be ‘exter-
nal and internal aspects of the same overall picture’ (2007: 106). This is the
goal that many Western/Anglo institutional and individual practitioners of
transnational e-learning claim to aspire to in the attempt to promote these
cultural dispositions in their multicultural student audiences. However, just
as McCarty’s more subtle message concerns the ways in which his course
matches the aspirations of his students (2007: 112), we draw attention to

the subtle ways in which some of the interactants in the accounts given by
the contributors to this book (e.g. those discussed by Gunawardena et al.
and Doherty) sought to appropriate the technologies and communication
genres for their own needs without at the same time seeking to transform
themselves at any fundamental cultural level. It seems clear that we need a
far more nuanced understanding of how individuals see themselves in rela-
tion to their own and others’ ‘essential’ cultural identities, and how they
view the kinds of transformation that participation in multicultural online
learning communities demands or makes possible. This, as we suggested
at the beginning of this discussion, might involve bringing the question of
culture to the fore, in the way that critical pedagogies have always sought
to bring learner self-awareness to the fore as part of the process of empow-
erment (see, for example, Kellner’s 2001 discussion of the work of Henry
Giroux).
There is also a tension associated with the attempt simultaneously to
counter the growing hegemony of Westernized constructions of online
learning, and at the same time promote the emergence of learning cul-
tures out of the free interaction of diverse individuals in mutually sustain-
ing online learning communities. This tension relates to the contradiction
identified in Lemke et al.’s concluding remarks when they note the need to
provide educational structures for marginalized learners, at the same time
as they seek to liberate more privileged learners from those very same struc-
tures. How do we identify and promote local alternatives to a Western/Anglo
model of online learning (collaborative discussion and problem-solving, in
English, with summative assessment of written assignments and a whole
panoply of credentialing practices) without running the risk of marginal-
izing participants from the mainstream of global economic and cultural
capital? Such alternatives would need to be explicit about underlying politi-
cal questions, and about asserting respect for difference and the promotion
of equality as significant reasons for wanting to resist cultural hegemony.
Equally, a critical perspective on culture should be an important educational
goal in its own right. Where Western/Anglo educational pedagogical phi-
losophy is applied to online learning in multicultural contexts, it should not
go unquestioned. ‘What kinds of knowledge are being promoted?’ And con-
versely, ‘what kinds of knowledge are being neglected or obscured?’ A key
aim for research into online learning cultures must therefore be to under-
stand the specifically cultural nature of our own online pedagogies and
their relation to the discourses of cultural difference that have dominated
research and practice in this area up to now. Only with such a perspective
can we hope to promote the development of non-Anglo-hegemonic mod-
els of online learning within which educational goals appropriate to, and
defined by, the participants do not have to be subsumed by those intended

to equip them for economic competition on the global market. Such devel-
opment entails investigating possibilities for counter-hegemonic models of
educational success that may not be framed by global markets (see Akkari &
Dasen 2004, in which, for instance, the authors provide a historical account
of family based, practice-based learning in North Africa, set against what
they term the ‘cognitive imperialism’ of the European colonizers).
Cultural dimensions of communication and the

negotiation of identities
What, then, is the relation to the nature of an emergent online learning

culture of the identity-work that its participants do? Gunawardena and her
co-authors show that aspects of embodied identity such as age, gender,
current location, race, etc., are constantly being negotiated online, as indi-
viduals seek to disclose or reveal information that will position them in
the way they want to be seen through the eyes of their fellow participants.
Such positionings are influenced by the different values, expectations and
cultural learning styles that individuals hold as a result of having been pre-
viously socialized into specific communities, but they are also constructed
collectively as part of an emerging social environment. For example, several
of the contributors here have given accounts of identity-work going on in
response to institutional cultures of learning, We see evidence of this in
Macfadyen’s ‘ritual of resistance’, in Doherty’s ‘troubling’ of the assessment
genres of the host university, in the contradictory teaching practices that
O’Dowd describes, and in the dissatisfaction with schooling that Lemke et
al.’s media-savvy young learners report. It is characteristic of online learning
cultures that the negotiation of personal and social identities is integral to
learning, just as a critical awareness of culture is integral to a nonhegemonic
model of online learning, as we argued above. As such, the negotiation of
identities does not simply mark a stage in the socialization of an online
learning group, necessary for the eventual construction of knowledge, as
some social-constructivist pedagogical models would suggest. The identities
of participants become part of the knowledge constructed as well as the
means of construction, as Macfadyen’s and Develotte’s online learners’ com-
ments on their identities illustrate.
When individuals interact in online communication with each other and
with the sociotechnical features and structures of an institutional online
environment, they may develop, over time, ‘hybridized identities’ (Haw-
isher & Selfe 2000: 277–89) with the capacity to challenge and modify
conventional relations of social power in that environment. Another key
question for our research agenda, therefore, addresses the process by which
the culture of learning that forms the institutional frame for the interac-
tion undergoes a similar process of transformation of norms and values.
Cultures of learning, as we have seen, are enmeshed in power issues. One
aspect of power that has emerged throughout the book is the impact on edu-
cational cultures of the ways in which institutions construct and constrain
the online activity of learners both directly and indirectly. For examples
of direct impact, see O’Dowd and Doherty’s studies of participants under-
served by their institutional context, thus ill-prepared for the academic task
set to them, or Lemke et al.’s discussion of the attempts made by schools to
co-opt ‘the digital’ into national curricula. For learning cultures as ‘third’
cultures to emerge in institutional contexts, this power must be modified,
or any emergent hybridity will be dominated by institutional shaping of the
learning context, allowing little room for negotiation of new identities by
the participants.
Online intercultural language learning theorists have catalogued mis-
matches of different kinds in the cultural learning styles of groups formally
brought together into institutional online collaborations (e.g. Belz 2003,
Schneider & von der Emde 2006). These difficulties, along with the excite-
ment of the recent technological developments we discuss below, have led
some researchers (Thorne 2008, Lemke et al., in this book) to turn towards
noninstitutional online worlds in the hope that they can reawaken the
desire for learning. We draw attention to Thorne’s characterization of lan-
guage learning, and suggest that it may well be true for wider educational
domains: ‘certain developmental trajectories occurring in informal learn-
ing environments may only be possible in self-selected activity marked by
the establishment of relatively egalitarian, and situationally plastic, partici-
pation structures’ (Thorne 2008: 323). This commitment to adjectives like
‘egalitarian’ and ‘democratic’ suggest a scrutiny of ‘democracy’ would be
an important aim for a critical approach to pedagogy in research on learn-
ing cultures, and we see at least two immediate needs. The first is for an
examination of ‘democracy’ in international/transnational online learning
contacts between groups with unequal access to economic and symbolic
power. The second is for research into claims about ‘democracy’ made on
behalf of noninstitutional online learning, particularly in its relationship
with institutional schooling.
In online contexts, social practices and relations are constructed in a
purely symbolic ‘place’, made up of the collective verbal-iconic-kinesic
elaborations that happen in textual and multimodal environments. The
role of language use and understanding in the construction of identities
via processes such as Macfadyen’s ‘ritual text acts’, or in contexts such as
Develotte’s ‘graphico-scriptural’ environment, has been considered in this
book. But what of the linguistic nature of Hewling’s unpredictably visible,

then invisible, traces of interaction? What also of the role of language in
multimodal environments currently developing in and around so-called
‘Web 2.0’ technologies, which offer an even more complex array of means
of meaning-making? Techniques of design and the production of digital
resources (for example: the use of phone cams, video editing, website and
web log creation, syndication of digital resources, book marking) have made
user-generated content simple and widely accessible. These tools, combined
with social networking practices, appear to generate possibilities for the
creation of new cultural resources, or the adaptation of existing ones, in the
activities of online communities. Researchers need to pay attention to how
learners negotiate these symbolic and material components of learning
cultures. In particular, we need to build on the developing base of work
on intercultural language studies that aims to characterize linguistic inter-
action in online communities where there is language hegemony of some
kind.
Second language learning and intercultural studies research – a

basis for research on online learning cultures
This book has drawn attention to the ideological nature of the multicultural
e-learning agenda and to the power imbalances that underpin it. The grow-
ing diversity of the learner pool gives researchers a particular responsibility
for making sure that their attention remains focused on this. Here we argue
that enquiries based on frameworks such as those offered by our contribu-
tors, investigated through the lenses developed by language learning and
intercultural communication researchers, are likely to yield a much richer
understanding of the real and diverse conditions in which learners learn
with and from each other online.
Negotiation of cultural identity in linguistic interaction is, as the authors
in this book have shown, central to online learning. Block (2007) has flagged
up a body of work in language learning from the late 1990s and the early
2000s, which has reconstructed the notion of (language) learner identity
away from the idea of an unchanging given, towards the notion of identity as
‘a site of struggle’ [involving] ‘negotiation of difference, ambivalence, struc-
ture and agency, communities of practice, symbolic capital’ (2007: 867).
This approach, as Block has suggested for language learning, and we argue
is pertinent for other domains, implies a research focus on learning contexts
and on power issues, and attention to the psychoanalytic perspective.
Language learning and intercultural communication research initially
made a distinction between three types of learning context: the naturalistic
(learning a language when living long-term or permanently in that lan-

guage’s own environment), the formal (classroom-based instructed learn-
ing) and ‘study abroad’ (learning a second language on short-term or
medium-term visits to that language’s environment as part of home-based
formal learning). In online settings this neat picture became blurred, how-
ever: not only may learners interact in environments that combine different
contexts, but the categories of context lose their meaning: ‘abroad’ can be
found online, and the normalization of technology supports perceptions
that communicating with a computer is as ‘naturalistic’ a sociolinguistic
practice as talking on the phone or in person. Moreover, contrasts such as
learning in institutional versus noninstitutional contexts are less important,
because, as Thorne shows (2008: 322) the conditions that are necessary
for effective (language) learning can be met in noninstitutional learning
online. Realizations of this kind have stimulated the entire second language
community into taking stock and refreshing its thinking on the cognitive
and the social in language acquisition, and we are arguing here for a compa-
rable exercise on the part of multicultural online learning researchers. Just
as, for language learning research, the thrust of enquiry moved away from
evidence of language learning towards the sociocultural conditions for lan-
guage learning (a logically prior objective, perhaps), so today the conditions
in which multicultural online learning takes place should be scrutinized
also.
In sociocultural language learning theory, power has always been at the
centre of research into migrants’ language development and heritage lan-
guage research, where it has been associated with the dominant or sub-
servient positions of language speakers according to their nation’s eco-
nomic strength. We have considered some of the workings of ideological
power in the discussion of institutional hegemonies above, but power has
also emerged as an issue in intercultural exchange research, where it has
been constructed in psychological terms, as a facilitator or an inhibitor of
comfort in online groups, a condition seen as vital to successful language
learning by a large body of anxiety research. Much to the fore in this lat-
ter has been the anonymity (and identity play) that text-only exchanges
can afford. Block’s challenge to language learning researchers, which we
embrace for other domains, is ‘to balance an overwhelmingly social view of
identity with a more introspective psychoanalytically inspired one’ (2007:
873). We approach this idea with all the caution that the term ‘psychoanal-
ysis’ requires, yet there are at least two unmistakably psychosocial themes
in the findings of our contributors: embodiment and pleasure. Ess and
Macfadyen’s chapters open up questions about the role of the bodies of the
learners in the construction of the online learning culture. Perhaps because
it has been assumed that text-based interactivity yields little information
about bodies other than facial representation via smileys, research into the
embodied conditions of intercultural communication has barely started. A
notable exception has been Jones (2004). His work on polyfocalization by
learners attending to multiple interaction windows on screen while inter-
acting with people in their immediate physical environment holds great
interest for researchers into online learning cultures, as it counters preva-
lent assumptions that learners are sitting at their keyboard, ‘out there’, in
ideal conditions for receiving a language-based educational experience.
Extending the question of embodiment from text-based to multimodal-
platform-mediated learning, there is even more scope for re-examining
learning cultures’ relationship with the body and the senses, but even less
research is available (though see Lamy forthcoming). Lemke et al.’s chapter
does, however, home in on one psychosocial dimension of engagement with
multimodal worlds: pleasure. The relevance of pleasure to learning may be
perceived by reference to Csikszentmihalyi’s (1990) concept of ‘flow’. A flow
experience happens when participants are totally absorbed in an activity and
forget everything around them. Csikszentmihalyi identifies a challenging
activity that requires skills, clear goals and feedback, and a sense of control
as preconditions that make such absorption possible. Thorne (2008) and
Meskill (2007) have seen some learners’ passion for working with online
artefacts as potential terrain for the enhancement of (language) leaning.
Further research on the role of pleasure, passion and other aspects of affect
on the development of online learning cultures in other domains is one of
the recommendations to come out of this book.
Open Educational Resources – a proposed site for research on

online learning cultures
In the Introduction to this book we proposed that the drive from govern-
mental widening participation policies, transnational e-learning and infor-
mal socialization practices on the internet, would result in increasingly
unpredictable configurations of participants in online learning communi-
ties. While there is clearly much work to be done on cultural learning styles
and cultures of learning in the more established contexts of formal educa-
tion in colleges and universities, corporate training and governmental and
international agency staff development, we would like to suggest one site for
research on learning cultures in which this unpredictability might surface
sooner rather than later. That is: the use and re-use of Open Educational
Resources (OER).
Open Educational Resources are learning and teaching materials (usu-
ally complete courses or modules and units from courses) that have been
produced as part of a university’s curriculum for its own students and are
being offered free to the public at large, via the internet. Major OER ini-
tiatives that offer materials globally currently include ‘Open Courseware’
from: Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT); the United Nations
University, Osaka University; the Open Courseware Consortium; the Euro-
pean Union’s Open E-Learning Content Observatory services and the UK
Open University (UKOU) Openlearn project. The philosophy behind the
OER movement is a mix of philanthropy and self-interest. As Santos et
al. (2007) observe, idealistic discourses such as ‘building a better world’,
overlap with social policy discourses such as ‘widening participation’, and
business interests such as the marketization of institutions and brands, and
the recruitment of students.
MIT claims a great deal of success in the numbers of users of their
materials, with more than 40 million visitors to the site to date, divided
between educators, students and ‘self-learners’, according to the statistics
on the Open Courseware website. Self-learners are people who are using
the resources outside formal institutional contexts, to expand their knowl-
edge generally, or keep current in their field or plan future study. Open
learners such as these, and the possibility that they might wish to learn
collaboratively, are of particular interest to the UKOU Openlearn project.
This group has created an environment that provides tools for communica-
tion and collaboration, as well as original learning materials, for those who
wish to collectively adapt materials for re-use either in their original English
form, or in translation. This is regarded as a platform for the development
of online learning communities that exist independently of institutional
cultures of learning.
The use, and/or appropriation and re-use, of open educational resources,
pedagogies and technologies, which are currently largely the product of
Western/Anglo education systems, by learners from globally diverse back-
grounds and cultural and linguistic heritages, is a site of great potential
for research into online learning cultures. There is much to be discovered
about whether learning communities do develop around these resources,
and whether they can then develop norms and systems of meaning that
sustain long enough to propagate themselves as learning cultures.
Investigation of the cultural meanings that are attached to open edu-
cational resources, in contexts of use which are removed from the sites
of production of those resources, is a promising direction for research in
online learning cultures. This is because, although most major OER initia-
tives are owned and disseminated by Western universities, and the resources
themselves embed the cultures of learning of those institutions, open-ness
of access and a lack of constraints on the way they can be used means
they may be taken up by people whose individual cultural learning styles
differ considerably from those by and for whom the resources were originally
developed. Such contexts might involve ‘different and contradictory rules or
barriers to the uptake and motivations for using [the] resources’ (Mwanza-
Simwami et al. 2008: 7) from those envisaged by the providers, a situation
that is likely to throw up a different set of problems to those associated with
‘appropriate cultural design’ (see our discussion in the introduction to this
book). Cultural meanings attached to OER could encompass a wide range.
Resources might be viewed as a kind of ‘gold standard’ because of their
source, and promoted uncritically, but they might equally meet resistance
precisely because of the kinds of arguments against cultural hegemony that
we have been rehearsing in this book. Materials might be used unadapted
by institutions as cost-free alternatives to locally produced resources, but
they might also be taken up by designers and teachers as models for the
development of their own locally appropriate open resources. Some individ-
uals might simply use them to further their own personal development, but
others might view them as a way to generate communities of shared interest.
In all the latter cases the conditions would be present for the emergence of
learning cultures, which might transcend both the institutional cultures of
learning in which the resources originated and the cultural learning styles
predominant in the sites where they were taken up.
In all cases where research into online learning cultures does develop, it is
important that researchers should include some who have an ethnographic
involvement in the communities being studied. It is a key implication of
the position that we have taken on institutional hegemony (and also on
the centrality of language) that the research perspective should incorpo-
rate ‘insider’ views. This means that projects intending to research online
learning cultures should not be conducted entirely from an etic perspective,
that is to say, entirely by researchers who share a particular cultural per-
spective and who are looking in from the outside. Projects should, in our
view, be conducted by teams, which are themselves culturally diverse, for
whom the construction of their own learning culture would be an acknowl-
edged outcome of the research. Such teams should include individuals
who share either languages, national and/or ethnic cultural backgrounds,
religion, class, gender or occupational and professional identities, with at
least some of the learner participants, so that the emic perspective, the
‘insider’ view, can be adequately represented. This is likely to present a
considerable challenge to many Western university departments wishing to
conduct research on their own foreign or international students. However,
research such as that reported in Baumeister et al.’s (2000) account of an
European international online seminar project, Gunawardena et al. (in this
book), or Lin and Lee’s (2007) account of the deployment of open course-
ware in China, Taiwan and Hong Kong, demonstrate that the international
partnerships necessary in order to conduct multicultural research of this

kind are far from impossible to set up. Moreover, insofar as research focusing
on online learning cultures is concerned, the very systems of digital com-
munication that have made the emergence of such cultures possible should
be more than adequate to facilitate multicultural research by multicultural
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Author Index
Addison, T. & Sirkissoon, E., 21 Bowl, M., 3

Akkari, A. & Dasen, P., 176 Bucher, H.-J., 27, 96
Alvermann, D., 156, 162 Bullen, E. & Kenway, J., 145
Alvermann, D., Moon J.S. & Hagood, Burbules, N.C., 94, 116
M.C., 155, 162
Appadurai, A., 133–134 Caillois, R., 165
Austin, J.L., 98, 104 Callahan, E., 21–22
Aviv, R., Erlich, Z., Ravid, G. & Geva, A., Cameron, D., 6
96 Campbell, A., 121
Cannone-Syrcos, B. & Syrcos, G., 115
Bakhtin, M.M., xi, 135–136, 143 Cantoni, L., Fanni, F., Rega, I.,
Barker, P., 95 Schettino, P. & Tardini, S., 17, 25–27
Barlow, J.P., 16, 18 Carbaugh, D., 34
Barren Ameneiro, S. & Burillo López, Carmena López, G., Ariza Cobos, Á. &
P., 59 Bujanda Bujanda, M., 66
Barsalou, L.W., Niedenthal, P.M., Carr, S., 19
Barbey, A.K. & Ruppert, J., 94, 108, Carspecken, P. F., 138
110 Castells, M., 133
Barthes, R., 165 Cavanagh, A., 15–16, 19
Baumeister, H.P., Williams, J. & Wilson, Chambers, E.A., 21
K., 182 Charmaz, K., 32
Baumgartner, V.J., 17, 22, 25 Chase, M., Macfadyen, L.P., Reeder,
Bax, S., 70 K. & Roche, J., 4, 12, 121
Baym, N.K., 19, 35 Chen, A. & Mashhadi, A., 27
Bayne, S., 9, 108 Chesebro, J.W. & Bertelsen, D.A., 18
Beck, U., 133 Chisholm, L., 157
Bell, C., 97–98 Choi, J.H. & Danowski, J., 96
Belz, J., 5, 52, 177 Clark, R.E., 116
Bernard, R.M., Brauer, A., Abrani, Clegg, S., Judson, A. & Steel, J., 174
P.C. & Surkes, M., 119 Cole, J., 53, 55
Bernstein, B., 136–137, 143 Cole, M. & Engeström, 31, 35, 49
Bhatia, V., 145–146 Connerton, P., 97–98, 108, 110
Black, R., 156, 159, 162 Conoscenti, M., 9
Block, D., 178–179 Conrad, D., 96
Bogart, L., 155, 160 Cornford, J. & Pollock, N., 128
Bourdieu, P., 98, 156 Coulon, A., 72
Author Index 211
Crook, C. & Light, P., 114 Farrell, G.M., 113

Csikszentmihalyi, M., 180 Feenberg, A., 94–95, 98–99
Felix, U., 55
Davenport, T.H. & Beck, J.C., 154 Fine, G.A., 35, 49
Davidson, A.L. & Schofield, J.W., 46 Firth, A., 135
de Oliveira Medeiros, S.M., 96 Fougere, M. & Moulettes, A., 8, 34
Dennis, A., Bichelmeyer, B., Henry, D., Franklin, S. & Peat, M., 53
Cakir, H., Korkmaz, A. Freiermuth, M.R., 96
Watson, C. & Bunnage, J., 6
Derry, S.J., 94 Garrett, R. & Verbick, L., 6
Descartes, R., 16 Gayol, Y. & Schied, F.M., 117
Develotte, C., 11–12, 64, 73, 171–172, Gee, J., 107, 122
176–177 Geertz, C., 23, 121
Dewey, J., 93 Gibbons, M., Limoges, C., Nowotny, H.,
Deyrich, M.-C. & Matas-Runquist, N., 22 Schwartzman, S., Scott, P. & Trow, M.,
Diepstraten, I., 154–155, 168 xii, 4
Diepstraten, I., du Bois-Reymond, M. & Gibbs, D. & Krause, K.-L., 9
Vinken, H., 151, 155, 158 Gibson, W., 16, 18
Disanayaka, J.B., 36, 48 Giordan, A., 76
Doherty, C., 4, 13, 132, 137–138, 145, Giroux, H., 175
171–172, 175–177 Goodfellow, R., 4
Dougiamas, M., 114 Goodfellow, R. & Hewling, A., 5, 9
Dreyfus, H., 28, 94, 94, 111, 116 Goodfellow, R. & Lea, M., 4
du Bois-Reymond, M. & Chisholm, L., Goodfellow, R., Lea, M., Gonzalez, F. &
157 Mason, R., 4, 49
du Bois-Reymond, M. & Moerch, S., 157 Goold, A., Craig, A. & Coldwell, J., 4
du Bois-Reymond, M. & Walther, A., 155 Gould, E.W., 26
du Bois-Reymond, M., Su[umlaut]nker, Graiouid, S., 34, 36–38, 41–44
H. & Kru[umlaut]ger, H.H., 157–158 Gregor Ahn, 99
Duncker, E., 21 Gunawardena, C.N., 10, 171–172,
Dunn, P., 6 175–176, 182
Dutton, W., Cheong, P. & Park, N., 63 Gunawardena, C.N., Bouachrine, F.,
Dyke, M., Conole, G., Ravenscroft, A. & Idrissi Alami, A. & Jayatilleke, G.,
de Freitas, S., 53 38
Gunawardena, C.N., Nolla, A., Wilson,
Edmundson, A., 2, 7–8 P., López-Islas, J., Ramı́rez-Angel,
Egbert, J., Paulus, T.& Nakimichi, Y., 53, N. & Megchun-Alpı́zar, R., 8
63 Gunawardena, C.N., Walsh, S.L.,
Eisenstein, E., 18 Reddinger, L., Gregory, E., Lake, Y. &
Ellerman, E., 31 Davies, A., 40
Eriksen, T.H., 3, 4 Gunawardena, C.N., Wilson, P. & Nolla,
Ess, C., 10, 12, 16, 19–20, 24, 27, 29, 34, A., 4, 10
103, 116–117, 121, 171–172, 179
Ess, C. & Sudweeks, F., 10, 20, 23, 34 Hall, E.T., 17–18, 20–23, 25–26, 96
Hall, E.T. & Hall, M.R., 7, 96
Faiola, A. & Matei, S.A., 33 Hall S., 3, 137
Fanderclai, T.L., 118 Halliday, M., 134
212 Author Index
Hampden-Turner, C. & Trompenaars, Lankshear, C., Peters, M. & Knobel,

F., 120 M.117, 129
Hannerz, U., 23 Latour, B., 128, 157
Hannon, J. & D’Netto, B., 4 Laurillard, D., 53, 55
Harré, R. & van Langenhove, L., 122 Lave, J. & Wenger, E., 23, 115, 162
Harris, A., 98, 111 Layder, D., 56–57
Hawisher, G. & Selfe, C., 54, 176 Leander, K., 161
Hayles, N.K., 109 Leander, K. & McKim, K.K., 156
Henderson, L., 2, 4, 174 Leask, B., 131
Henri, F., 85 Lemke, J.L., 13, 156, 158, 160, 162, 166
Hermeking, M., 21–22 Lemke, J.L. & van Helden, C., 9, 13,
Herring, S., 45 171–172, 175–177, 180
Hewling, A., 12, 18, 25, 96, 107, 119, Levinas, E., 27
122–123, 126, 129, 171–173 Lévi-Strauss, C., 72
Hides, S., 52 Levy, P., 161, 168
Hine, C., 134, 138 Lin, M.-F. & Lee, M.M., 182
Hofstede, G., 7, 8, 10, 17–18, 20–26, 33, Lipman, M., 100
96, 120, 171–172 Lü, Y.H., 24
Lübcke, E., 22
Illich, I., 13 Lukes, S., 97
Innis, H., 18–19
Macfadyen, L. P., 12, 29, 99, 115, 121,
Jackobson, R., 158 171–172, 176–177, 179
Jacobs, B.D., 95 Martin, L., 94
Jenkins, H., 156, 158, 159 Mason, R., 2
Joinson, A.N., 31, 36, 39 McCarty, S., 174
Jones, R.H., 180 McLoughlin, C., 4
McLuhan, M., 18, 31, 109
Kaplan, N., 115 McMahon, M., 94
Keegan, T.T., Lewis, R., Roa, T. & Mernissi, F., 36, 41–42
Tarnowska, J., 21 Merriam, S.B., 32
Kellner, D., 175 Meskill, C., 180
Khalsa, D.K., 38 Mezirow, J., 100
Kim, K.-J. & Bonk, C.J., 8 Miczek, N., 99
Kim, M.S., 8, 34 Miike, Y., 35
Kincaid, D.L., 34 Moje, E. & van Helden, C., 155
Koch, G., 23–25 Molist, E., 55
Kozma, R.B., 116 Morse, K., 8, 121
Kramsch, C. and Thorne, S., 55, 135 Moscovici, S., 71, 76
Kress, G., 167 Müller-Prothmann, T., 164
Kupersmith, J., 80 Mwanza-Simwami, D., McAndrew, P. &
Madiba, M., 182
Lamy, M.-N., 29, 180
Langer, R., Lu[umlaut]ddeckens, D., Nakada, M. Tamura, T., 24
Radde, K. & Snoek, J., 99 Nakamura, L., 94, 100
Lankshear, C. & Knobel, M., 154–155, Nardi, B.A. & O’Day, V.L., 128
161 New London Group, 167
Author Index 213
O’Dowd, R., 6, 11–12, 53, 171–172, Sadiqi, F., 36–37, 41–42, 47

176–177 Sandholtz, J.H., Ringstaff, C. & Dwyer,
O’Dowd & Ritter, M., 6 D.C., 69
O’Reilly, T., 9 Santos, A.I., McAndrew, P. & Godwin,
Oetzel, J.G., Ting-Toomey, S., Yokochi, S., 181
Y., Masumoto, T. and Takai, J., 40 Schneider, J. & von der Emde, S.,
Oliver, M., Roberts, G., Beetham, H., 177
Ingraham, B. Dyke, M. & Levy, P., 53 Scollon, R. & Wong-Scollon, S.,
Ong, W., 16, 18–19 120
Oxford, R.L., 90–91 Sealey, A. & Carter, B., 5
Seidlhofer, B., 135
Parks Daloz, L.A., 94 Shapin, S. & Schaffer, S., 165
Parks, S., Huot, D., Hamers, J. & Sharma Sen, R., 3
Lemonnier, F., 55 Shaw, J.B. & Barrett-Power, E., 35
Peraya, D., 75 Shuter, R., 33
Piaget, J., 72, 94 Singh, P. & Doherty, C., 145
Picciano, A.G., 96 Singha Roy, D.K., 3
Piller, I., 5 Slater, D., 16–17, 19, 29
Ponti, M. & Ryberg, T., 119 Smith, M. & Kollock, P., 8
Poster, M., 95 Snyman, M. & Hulbert, D., 21
Postle, G., 114–115 Spivak, G.C., 27
Postma, L., 21 Steinkuehler, C.A., Black, R. & Clinton,
Pratt, M.-L., 132, 145, 148 K.A., 162
Strauss, A. & Corbin, J., 32, 102
Rananand, P.R., 24 Street, B.V., 105, 122
Raybourn, E.M., Kings, N. & Davies, J., Stuart, S., 17
10, 24, 120 Swan, K. & Shih, L.-F., 96
Reeder, K., Macfadyen, L.P., Roche, J. &
Chase, M., 4, 9, 12, 55, 96, 107 Thorne, S.L., 54–55, 177, 179,
Reid, E., 34–35 180
Renninger, K.A. & Schumar, W., 9, 189 Thorpe, M., 85
Rheingold, H., 112 Ting-Toomey, S., 40–41
Ricoeur, P., 102, 107 Trucano, M., 20
Rimé, R., 86 Tusting, K., 49
Robertson, R., 148
Roche, J., 22 Urry, J., 133–134
Rodrigues, E.J., 24
Rogers, C., Graham, C.R. & Mayes, C.T., Vessey, D., 105, 107
2, 6, 20, 23, 27 Vygotsky, L.S., 31, 33, 72–73, 94
Rogers, E.M. & Steinfatt, T.M., 34
Roman, L.G., 100 Wallace, A.F.C., 161
Roschelle, J., 100 Walther, J.B., 83
Rosenthal, R. & Jackobson, L., 76 Walther, J.B. & Parks, M.R., 31
Rourke, L., Anderson, T., Garrison, Ware, P.D. & Kramsch, C., 6
D.R. & Archer, W., 96 Warschauer, M., x, xii, 56, 116
Rowland, W., 31 Warschauer, M. & Grimes, D., xii
Rumble, G., 19 Warschauer, M. & Healey, D., 53
214 Author Index
Warschauer, M. & Kern, R., 52 Windschitl, M., 55

Wellman, B., Salaff, J., Dimitrova, D., Winkin, Y., 91
Garton, L., Gulia, M. & Würst, E., 22
Haythornthwaite, C., 164
Wickramasinghe, M., 36, 49 Xin, C. & Feenberg, A., 96, 100,
Widdowson, H., 134 106–109, 112
Wild, M., 7
Williams, J., 21 Yates, S.J., 99
Williams, R., 95, 135
Williamson, J., 160 Zurawski, N., 95
Subject Index
academic, 42, 43, 50, 51, 58, 59, 70, 87, anonymity, 38–42, 50, 75, 78, 87,
106, 116, 125, 136, 159, 165–166, 179
172, 174, 177 anxiety, 9, 141, 165, 179
disciplines, 102 applied linguistics, 5, 60
institution(s), 51 apprenticeship, 162
knowledge, 169 appropriation, 22, 81, 83, 81, 90, 158,
literacies, 173 159, 181
practice/values, 4–5 (see also Arabic, 22, 32, 46–49
practice, values) art, 158, 159, 162
access articulation, 137
to education, 71, 123 Asian, 24, 35, 43
to learners, 51 assessment (see also evaluation,
to materials/resources, 51, 53, 61, 66, examination), 1, 13, 77, 116, 118,
69, 123, 124, 133, 137, 144 175, 176
to power, 167 genre, 131–150
to the internet, 30, 58, 59, 113 assignment, 61, 87, 140–143
active (see also interactive) asynchronous (see also synchronous),
learning, 53, 55 discussion/interaction, 31, 37, 38,
Actor Network Theory, 28, 157–158, 198 55, 75, 81, 94, 100, 112, 113
addressivity, 96 student 92
affective (see also socioaffective), 14, 46, text, 112
72, 78, 84, 88, 90, 92, 94, 110, 165, time, 115
171 tools/environment, 53, 66, 79, 115
affiliation (see also identity), 13, 72, 91, tutoring, 77
101–104, 107, 110, 151–152 attention economy, 154
affinity group(s), 114, 158, 165, 169 audio-chat, 130
affordance(s), xii, 142, 150, 166 Australia, Australasia, x, 2, 8, 13, 21, 100,
Africa -an, xi, 21, 32, 101, 121, 176 101, 103, 121, 123, 132, 137, 141,
age, 12, 13, 30, 34–37, 42, 43, 76, 152, 144, 147
161, 168, 176 Austria, 21–22
agency, 54, 56, 128, 178 authenticity, 94–95, 132
artificial/software agent, 18, 173 authority, 12, 25, 34, 124, 126, 148
America’s Army, 159 autoethnography, 132–150
anglo (see also Western, values)
-american, 8, 9, 22, 54 Bahrain, 101
-phone, 2, 6, 172 Berber, 32, 48
-saxon, 159, 165 Bermuda, 101
216 Subject Index
biographies, ix, 5, 133, 151–153, 157, cognitive (see also sociocognitive), 12,
168 14, 17, 55, 72, 76, 77, 79, 80, 83, 89,
Blackboard, 55, 100, 106, 115, 116, 118, 91, 94, 108, 110, 145, 176, 179
123, 124 collaboration (see also
blended learning, 63 telecollaboration), 2, 8, 18, 26, 32,
blog(s), weblogs, 9, 19, 87, 88, 114, 160, 55, 61, 85, 115, 119, 124, 127, 132,
178 163, 181
body, -ies (see also embodiment, online, 85, 177
physical), 15–19, 22, 29, 45, 94–95, collaborative
98, 99, 108–109, 11, 126, 164, 165, activities, 62, 67
179, 180 discourse/discussion/interaction,
language, 7 100, 174–175
boundary, -ies, x, 35, 42, 133, 137, groups, 84, 138
138 learning, 8, 13, 32, 55, 174
brand, 158, 181 tools/functions, 56, 64–66, 69
Brazil, x, 24–26 work, 53, 55
Britain (see also UK ), 2, 48 collective
buddhism, 24, 32 activity/work/tasks, 21, 84, 85, 92
business (see also commerce), 4, 29, 102, approach, 173
138, 146, 147, 155, 181 construction of meaning, 99
education, 134, 139, 144 culture, 21, 92
decisions, 117
campus, 11, 33, 59, 101, 114, 119, elaboration, 177
145 identity, 97–98
Canada, 94, 100, 103–105, 121 individualism vs, 8, 21, 22, 33, 127
chat (see also language, synchronous), intelligence, 168
11, 30–50, 55, 64, 65, 83, 84, 87, 91, memory, 97
130, 160 self, 37, 41
room/space, 11, 16, 33, 34, 42, 44, texts, 97
46, 126 vision, 167
China, x, 8, 21, 24, 27, 101–103, 104, colonial, 54, 117
132, 137, 140, 147, 148, 182 colonize, -ation, 27–28, 32, 160, 176
classroom(s), x, 19, 58, 61, 64, 65, 67, Colombia, 101
68, 70, 73, 81, 83, 84, 86–89, 109, commerce/commercial (see also
133, 137, 148, 153, 154, 156, 161, business), 58, 118, 152, 154–156,
167, 163, 174, 179 158, 161, 162, 167, 168
code, 5, 10, 24, 47, 76, 110, 131, 132, commitment, 11, 44, 94, 114, 164, 177
135, 140 common
culture, 86, 78 attitude/perception/understanding/
face-to-face, 72 notion/belief, 4, 47, 59, 61, 65, 108
learning, 83, 86, 167 culture/community, 96, 134, 135
online/virtual, 9, 16, 20, 24, 25, ground, 98, 99
94–112, 115, 119, 120, 122–123, language, 132
129 practice, 47, 53
switching, 47–48, 121 values, 95
traditional, 72–78 commonality, 76, 105
cognition, 108, 110 Commonwealth of Learning , 114
Subject Index 217
communication (see also -building, 51, 96, 98, 110

computer-mediated convergent, 134
communication, cross-cultural, disenfranchised
formal/informal, educational, 57, 61
miscommunication, tools for identity and, 101, 110, 152
communication) international, 54, 137
asian paradigm, 35 second language, 179
conventions of see norms learning, 4, 8, 49–51, 62, 90, 96, 110,
effective (and Western values), 6 111, 124, 163–165, 175, 180, 181
environment for, see technologies for located, 8
face-to-face/oral, 34, 83, 99 membership, 7, 135
failure of/barriers natural, 53, 167
to/miscommunication, 5, 6, 11, 38, new, 9, 31, 35, 107, 133, 134
39–41, 83, 135 of practice/practitioners, 11, 66, 69,
global, 54, 135 70, 178
in high-context/power-distance online/virtual, 8, 9, 13, 19, 31, 32, 38,
contexts, 22, 34 152, 49, 52, 96, 97, 128, 152, 159,
interpersonal/personal, 31, 32, 75, 79 161, 163–164, 178
multilingual, 51 religious, 7
online/networked/digital/internet/ speech, 134
new media/email/chat, xi, xii, 4, 5, support, 127
8, 10, 16, 17, 22, 24, 27, 31, 34, 37, complexity
39, 46, 51, 53, 54, 62, 91, 95, 99, of culture, x, xi, 2, 10, 25, 33, 35
176, 183 of life/worlds/networks/transmedia,
patterns, 11, 41, 51 158–160, 164, 167
pedagogical, 75, 79–80, 84–85, 89 of platforms, 80
practices, 3, 8, 9 computer
processes, 30–35, 173 as technological development,
research on see theories of 19
sociology of, 2 devices/screen/lab, 33, 65,
students/learners/teachers, 55, 62, 111
64, 96, 100, 103 intelligence, 168
text-based/textual, 8, 16, 47, 95, 101 programming, 162
theory of, 18 skills/literacy, 66, 125
tools for, 54, 85, 86, 100, 123, 181 games/simulations, 14, 50, 152,
communicative 158–160, 164–165
behaviour, 25 computer mediated (see also distance
competence, 5, 6 education colonization)
function, 55, 59, 62, 64 communication, 31, 33, 50, 54, 98,
interaction, 112 99, 116, 117, 179
methodology, 66 experience of/familiarity with, 45,
possibility, 13, 64 65, 87, 124
preference, 20, 97 human-computer interaction, 23
style, 6 interaction, xi, 23, 31, 28
community, -ies (see also Asian, conflict(s) (see also face, emotion)
common, culture, fan, informal, and change, 129
international, norms) ideological, 117
218 Subject Index
conflict(s) (cont.) Council of Europe, 5

of cultures/cultural, 6, 16, 19–21, 35, course (see also content, design, open,
92, 161 Open Courseware)
resolving, 40, 46, 50, 51 administration, 59
confucian, 21, 24 management, 100, 106
consumer(s), (see also identity), 14, materials, 53, 94, 96, 100, 107, 114,
152–168 125
contact zone, 132, 145 online, xi, 12, 17, 19, 77, 102, 105,
content (see also context, open) 108
analysis, 25, 123 training, 77, 85, 86, 89, 91
cultural, 66, 152, 162 -ware, 137, 138
knowledge/subject, 78, 115–116 Creative, -ivity, 3, 16, 23, 98, 99, 134,
media, 155, 160 154, 163, 169, 171
message, 22, 92, 121, 126 credential(s), -ing, 37, 46, 105, 106,
of materials/courses/training, 23, 59, 175
60–62, 64, 77, 100, 114, 123, 124, critical (see also ethnography, reflection)
130, 163 judgment/perspective/
sites/user-generated, 9, 178 understanding, 6, 9, 23, 28, 79, 94,
context(s) (see also face-to-face, 117, 163, 175–177
formal/informal, learning, pedagogies, 175
context, multicultural, school, studies, 167
sociocultural) thinking skills, 100
and/of culture/cultural, 28, 31–34, cross-cultural
49, 55, 56, 68, 96, 122, 125, 126, contact/communication/
132, 134, 140, 143, 149 encounter/interaction, xi, 5, 9, 17,
educational, 56 120 20–24, 27, 36, 94, 138, 139
high-/low-, 7, 8, 22, 31, 32, 34, 41, study, 30
174 understanding, 49, 51
global, 1, 4, 147 cultural (see also conflict, hegemony,
historical, 31 identity, intercultural,
institutional/socioinstitutional/ multicultural, norms,
organisational, 7, 54, 56, 70, 173, sociocultural)
177, 181 actor/player, 12, 113
international/global, xii, 1, 4, 147 analysis, 14, 17, 18, 20, 25–26
Layder , 53, 56–58 anthropology, 23, 161
local, 133, 162 attributes/characteristics/traits, 7, 8,
military training, 9 11, 13, 22, 49, 171
national, 33, 133, 147 capital, 105, 155, 169, 175
of situation, 134, 136, 146, 147 contact, xi, 20
of use, 117 critique, 2
online/CMC/virtual, 28, 33, 34, 40, difference(s), 23, 34–35, 121, 132
94, 101, 107, 177 dimensions, 2, 9, 22, 25–27, 77, 174,
pedagogical, 136 176
political, 31 diversity, 4, 7, 145, 152, 162, 182
social, 7, 31, 94, 96, 98, 117, 119 indicator(s), 34
convention(s) (see norms) learning styles, 173, 176, 180–182
conversation analysis, 96 meanings, 181, 182
Subject Index 219
resources, 13, 137, 144, 152, 178 customs, 7, 35, 36, 49, 95, 96, 152, 160
studies, 3 cybernetic, 37, 38, 44, 171
traditions, 10, 24, 162, 165 cyberspace/cyber, 16–19, 28, 29, 31, 37,
understanding, 47 38, 39, 94, 95, 98, 117
culture (see also colonial, context, -culture(s), 8, 9, 11, 30, 36
cybercafé, cyberculture,
educational, gender, group, democracy, -tic, 8, 18, 117, 163, 177
identity, idioculture, face, design
high/low-context, institution, discussion tasks, 138
language, learning, network, and/for culture/cultural diversity, 4,
popular, subcultures, teaching) 7, 8, 9, 21, 22, 23, 26, 27, 182
and community, x, 7, 9, 12, 13, 23, 25, ICT 20–21
28, 31, 32, 49, 54, 92, 94–96, instructional, 20, 23, 27, 170
110–12, 133, 134, 152, 153, internationalised education, 132,
157–164, 173, 175, 178, 181, 182 133, 138
and design, 7, 8, 20, 22, 23, 26, 28, message threading, 127
119, 132, 138, 174, 182 of multimedia/materials, 2, 4, 7
and orality, 47 of/for online learning/e-learning, 8,
as text, 23–25 10, 11, 27, 53, 174, 177
concept/idea/understanding/ of environment(s)/VLE(s), 17, 51,
notion/view of, x, xi, 5–7, 9, 10–12, 53, 84, 118, 166
23, 35, 95, 121 of school education, 153, 166
definition of, 2, 33–36 desire, 45, 156, 164–165, 172
foreign, xi development
mainstream/dominant, 3–5, 7, 9, 14, educational/staff/professional, 3, 5,
28, 152, 175 7, 67, 69, 180, 182
negotiation of, 12, 96, 99, 102, 128, developed/developing countries, 51,
129, 171–172, 178 114
of use, 126 dialogue, xi, 99, 100, 108, 112
online, 14, 50, 55, 129, 157, 161 difference (see also diversity), 4, 9, 28,
popular, 14, 151–169, 171 55, 113, 129, 131, 132, 145, 150,
research into, 7, 96 162, 171, 175, 178
role of, 18, 19, 23, 26 cultural, 3, 7, 34, 54, 138, 171, 173,
technical, 82 175
theory/analysis of, 14, 21 individual, 121, 123
third/hybrid, 10, 12, 24, 120, 129, 177 digital (see also literacy)
way of being, 50, 67, 98 environment, 24, 75, 76
young people/youth, 14, 17, 24, 25, resources, 178
34, 151–169 discipline(s), -ary, -arity (see also
culturally knowledge), 2, 17, 53, 103, 138,
appropriate, 4, 83, 143 144, 164, 171, 173
coded, 10, 24 cross-, 2
diverse, 7, 145, 162, 182 inter-, 32, 100
neutral, 4, 23 discourse (see also multicultural,
curriculum, 1, 4, 5, 14, 63, 106, 136, multimodal), 5, 10, 14, 53, 73, 95,
138, 142, 144, 153, 155, 156, 162, 100, 126, 136, 181
163, 167, 168, 169, 181 approach/perspective, 71, 77
220 Subject Index
discourse (cont.) educational

of teaching/learning/education/ alternatives, 157, 169
pedagogy, 53, 56, 64, 174 context, 56, 60, 120
space, 73 institution, 6, 54, 55, 57, 114, 118,
discursive (see also psychology) 133, 157
norm(s), 76 goals, 175
practice(s), 73 background, 3, 145
production(s)/process(es), 74, 79, alternative, 157, 169
81, 96 opportunity, 3
space/environment, 11, 72, 73, 74, paradigm, 9, 167
79, 91, 94, 100 options, 153, 162, 166–169
and technology, 83, 90 philosophy, 94
discussion board(s), 114–116, 123, 126 setting, 137, 143
disembodied, -ment, 16, 28, 29, 108, Egypt, 101
111 e-learning (see also intercultural), 53,
distance (see also power) 59, 170, 174, 178, 181
education, xi, 2, 10, 19, 71, 101, 114, and culture research, 8
119, 123 global/transnational, 2, 3, 6, 7, 8,
learning, 6, 12, 27, 72, 78, 81, 84, 86, 174, 180
87–90, 123 in higher education, 53, 174
teaching/tutors, 1, 87, 128 institutional policy, 11
diversity (see also cultural) e-mail, 5, 39–40, 51, 54, 55, 91, 137, 138,
and difference, 3, 123 142
creative, 3 embodied, -iment (see also disembodied,
of learners, 3, 76, 90, 178 identity, self), 29, 49, 92, 94–99,
religious, 33, 161 108–111, 165, 171, 179, 180
and learning, 17, 19, 28
ecology, ical, 13, 127–129, 167 being(s), 28–29
economy (ies), -ic (see also attention), state(s), 94, 108
xi, 3, 4, 6, 8, 14, 19, 23, 25, 27, 42, physical, 12, 93
54, 59, 121, 146, 147, 152, 153, 155, practices
158, 168, 172–179 emoticon(s), 45, 49, 126
education (see also business, culture, emotion, -al (see also anxiety, feelings),
design, development, distance, 12, 14, 16, 46, 49, 86, 90, 92,
formal, higher education, 154–156, 163–165, 169, 171,
internationalized, language, 172
market, media, multicultural, empowering, -ment, 117, 167, 174,
online, open, practices, policy 175
research, school, socioeducational, enactment, 11, 17, 19, 28, 89, 97, 104
Spain, teachers, technology, and recognition, 107, 110
theory) enactive work, 107, 122
basic, 7 of identity, 11, 96
primary, 162 English
system, 13, 66, 118, 120, 154–157, alphabet, 48
163, 181 as a foreign language, 60, 66, 137
transnational, 144 dominance of, 172
virtual, 114, 116, 117 for special purposes, 60, 63
Subject Index 221
-speaking, 8, 9, 32, 66, 172 formal/informal, -ized

-language, 18, 121, 137, 172 community/network, 14, 90, 152
environment (see also learning, digital, communication/exchange, 49, 55, 83
online, multimodal) context, 181
virtual, 37, 102, 119, 138, 171, 174 education, 3, 13, 70, 154–157, 164,
social, 7, 72, 176 180
e-portfolio, 118 learning, 3, 125, 156, 163, 167, 173,
Ecuador, 21 177, 179
equality, 21, 50, 117, 175 -ality, 24
essentialist, essentialism, 4, 8, 10, 12, practices, 180
120, 171 text(s), 136, 138
ethics -ical, 36, 44, 100, 138 use, 31
ethnic, -ity, x, 3, 7, 12, 13, 17, 24, 25, forum, 37, 73–92, 100, 102, 139–140
32–35, 38, 40, 101, 103, 105, 107, franchise, 158, 160, 164
110, 120, 121, 152, 171, 173, 182 France, French, 5, 11, 15, 22, 32, 46–49,
ethnography, 32, 36, 132, 138, 182 55, 60, 77–79, 121, 135, 165
Europe (see also Council of Europe), 21, -as-a-foreign language, 71, 77
44, 115, 176, 182 functionality, 12, 16, 129
European Union/Commision/Community,
5, 153, 157, 181 game (see also computer), 37, 42, 83, 89,
evaluation (see also assessment), 23, 55, 148, 160, 165
62, 79, 80, 83, 84, 89, 91, 118, 130, gender
142 and culture/identity, xii, 11, 31–51,
exam, -ination, 59, 164 176, 182
experience (see also computer mediated and global concerns, 117
learning, learner) and sexuality, 13, 152
prior/previous, 60, 123, 124 genre (see also assessment), xii, 5, 6, 13,
education(al), online 131–150, 152, 159, 162, 172, 175,
learning/teaching, 24, 78, 120, 176
123, 124, 141, 162, 180 geography, -ical, 3, 7, 31, 37, 44, 51, 95,
experiential, 94 115, 119, 127, 171
shared, 106, 120 geopolitical, 160, 167, 169, 175
Germany, x, 22, 27
face gesture (see also body language), 22, 28,
negotiation, 36–45, 50, 51 95
face-to-face global, –ization, -ized (see also context,
interaction, xii, 114, 115 e-learning), x, 4, 6, 13, 14, 17, 19,
fan (see also fiction, community), 38, 147, 153, 174
158–164 and local, 100, 135
feedback, 82, 102, 108, 140, 141, 180 citizen -ship, ix, 12, 100–101, 105,
feelings (see also emotion), 8, 47, 49, 86, 108, 112
92, 108 market, 147, 176
femininity (see masculinity) village, 54
fiction government, 58, 102, 118, 147, 148,
fan/slash, 159, 165 155, 174
Finland, 8, 162 grade(s), 100, 102, 139–143
first nations, 121 grammar, 60, 64, 134
222 Subject Index
Greece, 21, 28, 101 cultural, 2, 7, 10, 11, 34, 101, 121,
grounded theory, 10, 17, 32, 102 144, 152, 171, 175, 178
group (see also affinity, collaborative, emerging, 72, 76, 88
identity, interaction, learner) enacted, 96
ethnic/minority, 3, 4, 7, 33, 38, 105, formation, 9, 110
121 Idem, 102, 104
culture, 95, 106 individual, 23, 41, 73, 76, 99, 103,
dynamics, 96, 112 106, 110, 112, 153
social, 58, 168 Ipse, 102, 105, 107
peer, 155, 171 learner, 9, 78, 95, 106, 110, 178
Guatemala, 21 market(s), 155, 161
models, 13, 151
habitus, 98 multiple
hardware, 116, 124, 129 national, 13, 104, 121
Harry Potter, 158–165 negotiated, 13, 24, 174, 176–177
Harvard Business Review, 134, 138 new, 108, 133, 137
Hawaii, 116 online/virtual, 9, 42, 97, 102, 105,
hegemony, 172–182 110, 111
heritage, 96, 179, 181 play, 50, 102, 179
hierarchy, ical, ized, 2, 39, 41, 132, 152, real/true, 36–39, 43–45
154, 160 shared, 108, 110
high (see context power power-distance) social, 8, 10, 152, 158, 176
higher education, 2–4, 6, 19, 53, 135, teacher, 52
168, 174 traits, 79, 91
Hong Kong, 100–105, 182 work, 176
human computer interaction (HCI), ideology, 4, 8, 9, 117, 158, 159, 60, 178,
23 179
humour, 103, 106 immigrants see migrants
hybrid (see also culture), 10, 11, 29, 34, India, x, 3, 101
36, 87, 104, 171 individual
control
icon(s), 49, 119, 126, 177 individual (see collective)
ICT 8, 9, 15, 17–21, 26–28, 58, 59, 158 differences, 121, 123
identity (ies) (see also Australia, Canada, the, 5, 17, 24, 25, 37, 72–76, 85, 153
gender, group, Hong Kong, Indonesia, 101
hybrid, language, media, self, industry, 58, 147–148, 174
youth), 13, 14, 24, 30–53, 92–98, insecurity, 80, 90–92
102, 103, 104, 107, 110, 112, 125, insider, 103, 145, 147, 182
132, 133, 136–137, 145, 150, instant messaging (see message)
151–155, 158–161, 163, 165, 167, institution, -al, isation (see academic
171–172, 174–179, 182 context educational local)
and affiliation, 103, 110, 152 culture, 107, 174, 176, 181, 812
embodied, 176 hegemony, 172, 174, 179, 182
collective, 97–98 shaping, 4, 177
and community, 38, 101 instructional design, 20, 23, 27, 171
construction, 14, 24, 107, 161 instructors (see teachers)
consumer, 152, 155, 160 integrational learning
Subject Index 223
interaction, -ive, ivity (see also academic/disciplinary, 169, 174

computer-mediated, cross-cultural, and beliefs, 11, 35, 49
face-to-face, human, intercultural and skill(s), 165, 167
multimedia social) construction, 94, 115, 176
group, 35, 49, 50 economies, 153
learner, 91, 94, 95, 100, 179 workers, 168
linguistic, 178 local, 148–150
online/cyber/virtual, xi, 9, 11, 19, 38, of the world, 72, 162
39, 41, 44, 46, 75, 96, 112, 133, 135, new, 108, 109
138, 171, 172, 176, 178 production/generation, xi, xii, 4,
quiz(zes), 64 162
textualized/text-based, 12, 31, 115, technical, 76, 80
179 transmission, 67, 78, 162
intercultural, -ity (see also cultural) Korea, 8, 101, 162
communication, 5–6, 11, 17, 21,
25–26, 34, 53, 178, 180 language (see also common, community,
communicative competence, 5, 6 discourse, English, French, gender,
exchange, ix, 55, 66, 67, 179 gesture, pedagogy, text)
interaction, 120 and culture, 49, 121
issues, 72, 77 and gender, 30–51, 117
learning/e-learning, 11, 23, 26 and social presence, 46–48
studies, 2, 172, 178 body language/speech, 7, 108, 109
interdisciplinary (see discipline) foreign, 2, 11, 52–56, 60, 66–69, 72,
international -ized 77
agency (ies), 6, 180 learning/learners, 2, 5, 53, 170, 172,
chat spaces, 10 177–179
classroom, 133, 137, 148 migrant, 179
community, 54, 137 minority, x, 33
education, 13, 133, 134, 137, 138, 144 native, x, 46, 48–49
development/economy, 121 of chat, 46
learning, 132, 150 oral/written, 46, 47
students, 13, 101, 132, 137, 138, 145, second, 49, 170, 172, 178, 179
146, 148, 149, 182 teaching, 52, 66, 72
intertextual -ality, 134–136, 143–44, use, 42, 48, 177
149, 159 Latin-America, 22
Iran, 101 learner(s) (see also African, distance,
isolation, 3, 38, 51, 94, 107, 119, 166, identity, interaction, language,
171 multicultural, peer, self, Western)
Israel, 21 adult/mature, 106
Italy, 22 -centred, 11, 52, 70, 115
classroom, 72, 73, 88
Jamaica, 21 diverse -ity, 3, 7, 76, 96
Japan, 5, 24, 101, 159, 162, 174 experience, 76, 98, 120
JISC 128 groups, 9, 114, 121
indigenous, 4
Kenya, 101, 103 individual, 9, 76, 94, 119
knowledge (see also tacit) new/trendsetting, 9, 151, 154–155
224 Subject Index
learner(s) (cont.) -style(s), 11, 153, 155, 160, 168

online/virtual, 12, 13, 29, 71, 73, 75, world(s), 13, 132–133, 148
90, 91, 98, 99, 102, 104, 108, 111, literacy, ies (see also academic,
176 computer, digital, language, skills)
young/school, 78, 158, 176 and print, 16–18
learning (see also active, African, education, 167
blended, collaborative, community, electronic, 66, 116
context, cultural, design, IT 3
discourse, distance, e-learning, literature, 162, 165
embodied, environment, liturgy, 98
face-to-face, formal, intercultural, local (see also global)
language, multicultural, open, activity system(s), 11, 35
practice-based learning) educational/setting, 54- 59, 61, 137,
autonomy, 163 143–144, 148
by doing, 93 frames, 132, 133, 137, 149–150
constructivist, 55 institution(s), 57, 58, 68
culture(s), xi, xii, 1–14, 23, 32, 49, 50, knowledge/practice, 12, 103,
51, 68, 70–73, 76, 77, 88, 91, 92–99, 148–150
111–112, 114, 129–130, 132, 135, love (affair/romantic), 43, 159, 164
138, 142, 148–149, 152, 164, 165, low (see context power power-distance)
169, 170–183
experience(s), 4, 14, 29, 78, 79, 108, Malaysia, 21, 101, 137, 140–144, 147
110, 149, 157 manager(s), -ment (see also course), x,
identity-based, 153 9, 129, 139
internet/media-based, 24, 152 of learning, 174
networks, 152–153 time-, 85, 109
objectives/outcomes, 100, 116, 121 marginalization, x–xii, 3, 38, 142, 154,
online/virtual, xi, 1–14, 15–18, 156, 169, 175
20–28, 49–70, 71–78, 83, 86, 93–96, market marketing marketization (see
99, 108, 113–130, 132, 145, also education, global, identity), x,
152–153, 156, 164, 167–169, 171, xi, 13–14, 42, 119, 147, 152–165,
179, 170–182 171, 172, 176
school-based, 152, 158 forces, 118, 152
significant, 10, 12, 151, 167 strategy, 126, 152, 160
space, 10, 11, 32, 96, 102, 109 masculinity/femininity, 21, 33
strategy (ies), 72, 89, 91 mass
structures, 59, 157 education systems, 154
styles, 17, 118, 173, 177, 177, media, 151, 169, 163
180–182 Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 181
teaching and, 1, 5, 13, 18, 53–59, MBA 132, 135, 137
66–72, 114, 180 meaning (see also cultural)
transformative, 93, 174 contested, 100, 104, 140
work/project/practice-based, 4, 70, -making, x, 104, 122, 178
176 media (see also content, education,
life (see also Second Life) identity, mass), 13, 151–166,
-long learning, 13, 151, 153, 155, 158, 168–171
168 negotiation of, 49, 96
Subject Index 225
new, 3, 8, 11, 13, 167 and learning, 53, 71, 91, 152–153,
popular, 13, 155–156, 168 166, 169
meatspace (see space) global, 54, 167
mentor(s), 164–168 of international education, 144
message (see also content, design, new technologies, 22, 58, 63, 68, 109
discussion, board, posting) New Zealand, 8, 21, 100, 121
instant/text/personal, 16, 47, 54, 64, nontraditional audiences (see also
114, 115 traditional), 2–3
methodology see research methodology normalization, 179
Mexico, 8, 21, 105 norms
migrants, immigrants, x, 3, 101, 104, community, 105
179 cultural, 30, 42, 54, 120, 121
miscommunication, 41 discursive, 76
mixed mode, 114 educational, 141, 148, 163, 173, 177,
mobile phones, xi, 39, 48, 49, 113, 155, 181
160 of communication, 11, 54, 125
mode two’ knowledge production, 4 social, sociocultural, 43–44, 105, 116,
mono-cultures, 121 131
Moodle, 53, 55–70, 114, 118 NVivo, 102
Morocco, 10, 31–34, 36, 38–49 North America, 2, 8, 9, 24, 25, 38, 44, 54,
motivation (of learners and teachers), 55, 66, 104, 115, 171
14, 60–61, 63, 65, 68–69, 82, 86, 88,
112, 136, 168–169, 182 OECD 6, 158
multicultural, -ism, -ity, x, 2, 3, 45, 12, online
105, 170, 174–175, 178–179, 183 networks, 9, 157
multilingual, -ism, 1, 32, 42, 47, 51 pedagogies, 23, 61, 64, 70, 73, 79–80,
multimedia, 2, 4 132, 175
multimodal Open Educational Resources, 180–181
environments, 177–178, 180 Open University (UK), 114, 128, 181
exchanges, 76 OpenLearn, 181
MySpace, 9, 132, 173 open
myth, -ology, 36, 97 courseware, 181, 182
mythos, 161 learners, 181
learning systems, 3
narratives, 9, 16, 97, 107, 117, 119, 129, options (see educational)
138–139, 141, 145 oral
nation states, 34, 96 communication (in academic
national contexts), 83
cultures (see also culture), 11, 22, 25, language, 46–47
34, 97, 103, 121–122, 174 society, 21
policies, 3, 149 orality (see also primary secondary), 16,
nationalism (see also international, 47
transnational), 117 other, otherness, 27–29, 148
networked communication, xii, 13, 19, outsiders, 118, 137, 145
133, 156
networks (see also actor, social, strategic, Pakistan, 8, 101
virtual) Panama, 21
226 Subject Index
participation politics, xi, 165

student, 61, 69 polyfocalization, 180
widening, 2–3, 180–181 position, 123, 182
passion, 14, 161, 163–165, 169, 180 social 34, 123
pedagogies, 1, 3–5, 7, 13, 27, 53, 55, 61, positioning, 11, 106–107, 123, 136,
64, 70, 132, 136, 142, 148–150, 176
173–174, 174–175, 177, 181 postgraduate, 90, 101
peer posting, 44, 50, 100, 106, 115, 121, 125,
-collaboration, 132 127, 140, 142
-assessment, 139, 149 postmodernism, postmodern, 15–19,
-based learning, 152, 163 161
-group, 155, 171 postnational, 13, 131–133, 137,
peers, 12, 55, 86, 96, 98, 99, 101, 105, 148–150, 171
107, 119, 162–163 power (see also empowering,
perceptions, 30, 57, 59–60, 65, 75, empowerment), 22, 34, 38–39, 42,
78–79, 81, 87, 96, 179 57, 70,. 117, 123, 136, 138, 142,
personalization, 173 145, 149, 158, 167, 176–179
Philippines, 37, 101 high, 21, 34
philosophy low, 21, 25, 174
of education, 93, 170, 175, 181 power-distance, 8, 21, 22, 33
of language, 98 PowerPoint, 60–61, 64–65
physical (see also embodiment, practice-based learning, 176
presence) practices (see also rituals social)
attributes, 95, 125 academic, 4–5
environment, 7, 92, 94, 111, 116, 180 educational, x, 3–5, 11, 13, 53, 56–57,
location, 8, 9, 171 59, 62–63, 66, 68–70, 72–73, 88, 91,
plagiarism, 142 106, 109–110, 123, 129–130,
play (see also space) 132–133, 142, 152, 163, 167, 171,
and creativity, 16 174–176
and work, 168–169, 172 online, 11, 57–58, 66
identity, 37, 50, 102, 179 praxis, 29, 174
Poland, 101 preferences
Portugal, 21 communicative, 20, 21, 97
PROWE 128–129 individuals’, 8, 44, 115, 118, 127, 152,
player 173
cultural, 114, 122–124, 126–130, 173 presence (see also co-presence, social)
of immersive games, 166 online, 43, 49, 60
role play, 50 physical, 86, 93–95
playful activity, playfulness, 37, 165 primary orality, 16
pleasure, 35, 86, 165, 179–180 print
podcasting, 114 literacy, 16–18, 90
policy (see also social policy) and speech, 98–99
educational, xi, 11, 56, 154 print-based teaching, 62, 65–66, 119
policymakers, 155 privacy, private, 24–25, 39, 40–42, 45,
politeness, 132 54, 118
political (see also geopolitical), 7, 14, 19, problematization (of culture), x, 2–3,
27, 31, 42–4397, 100, 153, 159 5–6, 8, 171
Subject Index 227
problems (see also technical) representation (see also

personal, 43–44 self-representation), 71–72, 76,
professional, -alism, (see also identity), 78–80, 95, 99, 110, 118–119, 145,
11, 14, 86, 107 180
development, 5, 7, 61–62, 64, 67, 69, research (see also multicultural, social,
128 psycho-social)
format, 141, 143 agenda, 169, 173, 177
learning contexts, 5, 171 communication, 178
MA 71, 77 educational, 2, 5, 76, 92, 94
professions, professionals, 4, 39, 60, 134 empirical, xii, 2, 10, 19, 22–92, 94,
psychology (see also social) 132, 135, 143, 148
academic, 166 future, 2, 130, 157, 171–172
cognitive, 17 into culture, 96
discursive, 73 literature, 2, 8, 171–172
public (see also space) methodology, 25–26, 56, 71–72, 77,
sphere, 37–38, 41, 81, 124 110, 172
qualitative, 32, 36, 58, 102
qualitative, see research questions for online learning
questionnaires, 57–58, 102 cultures, 173
quizzes, 64–65, 116, 118 resistance, 38, 106–107, 171–172, 176,
182
real re-use, 181
-time, 41, 108 rhetorics, rhetorical, 6, 13, 16, 18, 94,
-world, 16, 19, 23, 50, 94, 116, 155, 100, 132, 145, 148
168 risk, 39, 83, 94, 110–11, 149, 174–175
classes, 108, 111 rituals, 12, 76, 95–99, 105–110,
reality (virtual), 29, 173 176–177
realization (see also rules) roles
textual, linguistic, 143–144 gender, 21, 36, 42
recognition (see rules) social, 30, 171
work, 107–108, 122 student, 12, 61, 66, 122–123
referencing conventions, 140–141, implicit, 142–143, 149
143–144 Romania, 101
reflective, -ion (see also rules (see also norms)
self-reflection), 9, 91, 95, 100, 107, of engagement, 12, 96
140, 166, 168 of realization, 136, 143–144, 149,
journal, 135–136 152
student reflections, 11, 67, 72, 78, of recognition, 136, 143, 149
83–84, 109, 119 Russia, 101
register, 136, 143
relationship sameness, 39, 102, 104
family, 22 Scandinavia, 22
interpersonal, 91 school, schooling, 7, 13–14, 19, 55, 70,
online, 38–39, 83 118, 152, 154–155, 157–159,
religion, -ious, 4–5, 7, 11, 32–33, 38, 42, 161–169, 176–177
102, 170, 173, 182 learning outside of, 14, 78, 153
repository, 125 -based learning, 9, 152–153, 158
228 Subject Index
script technology, 167

cultural, 99, 133 worlds in virtual spaces, 111
Latin, 46, 47, 48 social web (see Web2.0)
Second Life, 95, 173 socialization, 11, 73, 135, 143–144, 173,
secondary orality, 16–18 176, 180
self socioaffective, 72, 78, 84, 88, 90, 92
-awareness (learner’s), 175 sociocognitive, 72, 78, 88, 91
-disclosure, 36, 39, 44–45, 50 socioconstructivism, -ist (see social
-identity, 12, 38, 57, 107 constructivism, -ist)
-image, 32, 39–41 sociocultural, 30–32, 35–37, 42, 44, 53,
-perception, 24 55, 179
-reflection, 91, 139 socioeconomic, 6, 32, 34–35
-representation, 40, 95, 145 socioeducational, 60
semiotics, 14, 165–166 socioinstitutional, 6, 56, 70
Singapore, 8, 21, 101 sociolinguistic, 134, 179
simulations, 50, 125, 168 sociological theory, 97
situated sociology
activity, 56–58, 60–63, 65 of communication, 2
learning, 115 of youth, 157
skills, 161, 165, 167 sociological research, 8, 72, 97,
and flow theory, 180 155–157
literacy, 21 sociotechnical, 2, 177
social, 46 software
teaching skills, 61 affecting learner actions, 126–129
technological, 124, 125, 162 software agents, 173
thinking, 100 solidarity, 84, 86, 111, 158, 165
writing, 161 somatic (see also embodiment)
smiley(s), 45, 49, 83, 126, 180 desires, 165
social knowing, 98
constructivism, -ist, 11, 23, 52–53, South Africa, 21, 101, 121
55–56, 66, 68–69, 72, 94–95, 174, space (see also cultural)
176 and cultural codes), 24, 41–42,
and political roles, 100 172–173
capital, 155, 159, 168 and gender, 42
class, 25, 48 for chat, 10
context, 8, 31, 93, 96, 98, 117, 120 for displaying discourse, 11, 73–74,
identities, 8, 151, 158, 176 79, 91, 94, 100
networks, networking, xi, xii, 9, 13, for production, 73
46, 91, 96, 151–152, 155, 157–158, meatspace, 16, 18–19
160, 163–164, 166, 168–169, 173, for online learning, 10, 11, 96, 102,
178 109, 114–115, 133, 137, 145
policy, 166, 181 for play, 16
power, 176 of resistance, 38
practices, 14, 83, 173, 177 social, 73, 91, 120
presence, 38, 43–44, 46, 48–50, 96 for ritual practice, 99, 110
psychology, 2, 94 and embodiment, 29, 111
realism, Layder’s, 53, 56, 63 Spain, 5, 11, 55, 57–59, 63, 66, 68–69
Subject Index 229
speech team
acts, 89, 98, 106, 107, 110 interactions, 38, 51
community, 134 work, 117, 182
Sri Lanka, 8, 10, 31–48, 101 technical
Star Wars, 159, 161 challenges, 62, 80, 83
statistics knowledge, 76, 80
on Moodle, 55, 118 technological
on Open Courseware, 181 determinism, 19, 31, 116–117
on Spanish society’s internet usage, instrumentalism, 23, 116
58 technology (see also new technologies)
on student platform usage, 82 as a cultural player, 114
UK HESA, 6 as a value-free tool, 116
strategic networking, 155 bump, 123
strategies telecollaboration, 5, 6
learning, 72, 89, 91 television, 14, 151, 155, 158, 160
marketing, 127, 152, 160 text (see also culture-as-text)
students (international), 3, 6, 13, 101, and embodiment, 99
131–132, 137, 146, 148–149, 181 and emotions, 49
subcultures, 10, 14, 18, 25, 28–29, 75, and genre, 13, 135–136, 143–144,
152, 160 172
subjectivity, 111, 165 and identity construction, 36
subversion, 42, 156, 159 as internet learning resource, 58
symbolic Barthes’ notion of pleasure in, 165
and learning, 14, 32, 178 for assessment, 133, 145–149
online place, 178 in Hallidayan SFL 134
power, 177 online education as a text, 134
capital, 179 ritual text acts, 105, 177
construction of self, 95 text messaging, 47, 115
in ritual, 97–98 text-as-speech, 105, 107, 110
synchronous (see also asynchronous), text-based (see also textual)
31, 36, 44, 49, 50, 53, 55, 75, 79, 83, communication, interaction, 16, 31,
85–86, 115, 119 47, 75, 95, 99, 100–101, 179
syntax, 98 exchanges, 16
Systemic Functional Linguistics, 134 learning, 65, 114, 180
VLE, 97
taboos, 33, 41, 159 text-becoming-speech, 99
tacit, 140, 144, 148 text-oriented medium, 31
teacher education, 174 texts (silent study of), 21
teachers, 17, 53, 67, 77–78, 85, 94, 96, textual
100, 105–7, 109, 115, 119–120, communication, 8, 22, 49
122–124, 128 conventions, 144
teaching environment, 177
classroom-based, 78 exchange, 144
of languages, 53, 66, 72 experiences, 149
online, 4, 57, 63, 65, 68, 77–78 genres, 135, 143, 144
cultures, 55, 68, 70, 78 ipseity, 105
practices, 62–63, 68, 176 practices, 12, 99, 134, 144
230 Subject Index
textual (cont.) traditions (cultural), 19, 24, 34, 44, 57,

reality, 12, 95 148, 152, 162, 165
rituals, 12, 99, 109 transform, 14, 31, 99, 100, 110, 122,
virtual spaces, 99 152, 162, 175, 177
textuality, 171 transformative learning, 69, 93, 174
theory translation, 181
of genre, 134–136, 143–145 translocality, 148–149
grounded, 32, 102 transmedia, 152
pedagogical, 23, 94 complexes, 156, 159–160, 167
of ritual 97–99, 107 franchises, 158–159
social, 13 transmission (of knowledge), 77–78,
sociocultural, 55 119, 136, 162
of communication, 18 transnational, xi, 2–3, 6–7, 13, 133,
third 143–144, 149–150, 170, 174, 177,
cultures (see synchronous), 10, 12, 24, 180
120, 129, 172, 177 traversals, 152–153, 160–161
identities, 24, 34, 171 trouble (in ascribing genre), 144–145
time (see also asynchronous, real) troubling (of identity), 110
distributed over, changing over, 12, trust, 36, 38–39, 44, 50, 85, 96, 111
25, 67, 122, 125, 127, 135, 165, 167, tutor, see teacher
176
first time online learning, 72, 91 UNESCO, 3, 6
for trust-building, 39, 44 uncertainty avoidance, 21–22, 33
-management, 109 undergraduate, 60, 100–101
pressure of, 39, 63, 85 University of Auckland, 100
scale, span, time commitment, 94, University of British Columbia, 100
109, 118, 151–152, 165–166, 168 University of Heidelberg, 99
zone, difference, 114–115, 127 University of Leicester, 128
tools University of Melbourne, 100–101
collaborative, 56, 66, 68, 115, 119, University of Nottingham, 100
178, 181 unpredictability, 13, 127, 180
for communication, 52–53, 54–55, user-generated, 178
85–86, 100, 119, 123, 178, 181
for teaching and learning, 27, 53–55, value systems, see values
58–60, 62, 64, 69, 75, 81, 106, value-free, 116
115–116, 123, 129, 142 values, 7, 19–20, 25, 27–28, 30, 33, 35,
of web2.0, 9, 118 57, 76, 95, 97, 99, 110
as a neutral or non-neutral, 23, academic, 4–5
30–31, 116 Asian, 24
traditional business, 4
gender roles, 21 colonial, 23–24
views of assessment, 138–139, 144 family, xi
views of culture, x, 14, 174 institutional values, 4–5
views of education, xi, 4–5, 14, 19, teachers’, 3–4
62–64, 71–73, 75–76, 78, 80, 89, 94, Western, 9, 24, 37, 54
119, 133, 152–154, 157, 165, 168 video, 100, 152, 160, 162, 178
views of writing, 83, 98, 159 games, 164
Subject Index 231
virtual pages as learning resource, 62, 64,

classroom, 16, 19, 94, 106, 108–109, 124
110–111, 115 skills, 162
communities, 8, 19, 96–97, 172 WebCT , 55
education, 113–114, 116–117, Western
127 cultures, 24, 35, 54, 174
environments, 37, 119, 138, 171, educational practices, 4, 116–119,
174 174–175, 181
identities, 42, 97, 102, 105, 110 societies, 43, 53
identity, 9 values, 9, 24, 37, 54
interaction, 29, 44, 46, 133 widening participation (see
learning communities, 8, 96, participation)
111 wikis, 9, 55, 113, 135
learning environment, VLE, 12, 13, wireless, 59, 113
16, 53, 59, 93–94, 97, 99–100, 102, women, 3, 10, 14, 33, 37, 38, 41–51, 159,
107, 110–111, 113–114 163
learning platform, 70 work
mobility, 131 placements, 101
network, 91 -based learning, 4
relationships, 44 workplace
sites, 133–134, 148 culture, 148
spaces, 99, 109, 110–111, 133 scenarios, 144–147, 149
worlds, 35, 95, 99, 173 World Bank, 6
vocabulary, 64, 98 World Commission on Culture and
voices (multiple), 109 Development, 3
worldviews, 95
web, see also third culture written world, 95
and religion, 44 WYSIWYG, 30
as global village, 54
web2.0, 3, 9, 114, 118, 125, 173, youth
178 cultures, 17, 25, 34
links, 73 identity, 151

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Learning Cultures in Online

Robin Goodfellow and Marie-Noëlle Lamy

The Tower Building 80 Maiden Lane Suite 704

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

ISBN: 978-18470-6062-4 (hardcover)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

List of Contributors vii

Introduction: A Frame for the Discussion of

7 Trouble and Autoethnography in Assessment Genre: A Case

ROBIN GOODFELLOW is a senior lecturer in Teaching with New Tech-

Discourse Studies, he was formerly co-editor of Linguistics and Education (for

Of course the most revolutionary new medium for cross-cultural contact

in part to the somewhat limited affordances of online communication com-

Robin Goodfellow and Marie-Noëlle Lamy

It would be customary to begin discussion of a topic like ‘learning cultures

Deﬁning a new ‘gap’ for research on culture in online learning

Several observers have suggested that there is a dearth of research in the

increasing diversity of learners and their family, community, educational

Developments driving the need to problematize

Many nations now have governmental policies on widening participation

sense they could be thought to be divided by it, as is increasingly felt to be

values relating to the purpose and conduct of online communication can

literature, even when cultural conﬂicts are welcomed as learning oppor-

Developments driving the need to problematize

Socioeconomic development is to the fore in the second of the develop-

but it is clear that the deployment of online technologies and pedagogies is

Essentialist frameworks such as these (descriptions of individuals in terms

Developments driving the need to problematize

The third development driving our interest in online learning cultures is

the more learning-oriented collection in Renninger and Shumar (2002),

New conﬁgurations of users

We believe these trends point to the likelihood of increasingly unpre-

Conceptualising ‘learning cultures’ – the structure of the book

A theoretical introduction to the complex concept of culture in online edu-

When the Solution Becomes the Problem:

In keeping with and reﬂecting the then-prevailing views of computer-

(seen to be tied to the communication technologies of literacy and print):

mind-body dualism – itself long rejected by philosophers on various grounds

frameworks developed by Hall and Hofstede. Moreover, as Hewling (2005)

Revolution versus reality: The 1990s’ promises and the

As we have begun to see, English-language conceptions and enthusiasms for

communication by taking up a number of frameworks for cultural analysis –

Transnational online learning: ‘culture’ as a solution – ‘culture’

‘Culture’ interacts with online learning in a range of ways, beginning with

Individualism vis-à-vis Collectivism: more collective cultures (indigenous

seem to have little impact on online communication: but see Baum-

Individuals as the problem: cultures, subcultures and

Hybridization in online classrooms thus evades extant frameworks of cul-

Conclusion: ‘culture’ betwixt and between

We have seen that with regard to intercultural communication online in

Metaphorically, these new syntheses and amalgams – each a unique

representation of radical difference by the Other as an embodied being:

Identity, Gender and Language

Ahmed Idrissi Alami

The integration of the internet into contemporary society worldwide has

The purpose of the preliminary study discussed in this chapter was to

Study design and context

We adopted a qualitative ethnographic perspective (Merriam 1998) to con-

As we began this study, our major challenge was to arrive at a deﬁnition of

orientation, while a useful explanatory framework despite criticisms leveled

(1987) has shown the shortcomings of Western approaches to understand-

Emerging conceptual framework

Through the qualitative ethnographic perspective and the inductive theory