There’s a meme going around that online learning is about to destroy the university.

It goes roughly like this:

    1. University has always been the best place to learn stuff.

    2. But things like Wikipedia and Kindle have dramatically reduced the barriers to learning stuff outside university.

    3. Therefore it’s now cheaper and less time-consuming to learn stuff online, and the days of the university are numbered.

In this vein, Matt Yglesias claims that “American universities are headed for a newspaper-style, technologically-induced giant collapse at some point in the not-to-distant future”

And it’s true that people are learning all sorts of stuff online. The Khan Academy is an enormously popular set of lessons in basic maths topics and a platform teachers can use to identify and tackle pupil weaknesses. The Floating University has just been launched, offering access to lectures by Steven Pinker and Joel Cohen. Even Carol Vorderman has a startup offering online maths lessons.

These ventures are wonderful. They’re opening minds to new ideas and topics, lowering the cost of learning, and will likely have all sorts of unforeseen benefits.

But they may be lacking something. Consider this story about how Ernest Gellner tackled Brendan O’Leary’s doctoral thesis.

“He began the viva by warmly congratulating me… Naturally I felt elated. But then he counselled me that he had one minor obligation to perform: he was required (in the manner of Karl Popper) to test whether he could falsify the thesis that I had written for the dissertation. A chill ran down my recently elated spine. He then performed his duty, corrected my errors, and gave me salutary advice on matters philosophical, anthropological, linguistic, historical and sociological. Lastly he presented me with about 20 pages of typed commentary, amounting to an article in response to my efforts. In short, he demonstrated generosity, utterly professional social scientific standards and astounding scholarly range.”

Online learning as communication of knowledge may never offer the challenge of falsification as efficiently as offline learning.

Prof Yglesias’s statement that “A college, or a law school, is basically supposed to be conveying information to people” seems to put unnecessary limits on education.

Schools and universities aren’t village wells

From Cardinal Newman to Michael Oakeshott, people have agreed that universities aren’t just there to communicate facts and then check they’re in your head. You don’t follow a degree course as if you’re gathering water from the village well. Oakeshott says “A university will have ceased to exist when … its teaching has become mere instruction and occupies the whole of an undergraduate’s time”1.

There’s something more to education. For example, Oxford University’s tutorial system is designed to give an important extra dimension to education beyond conveying information to people. A weekly tutorial gathers a small number of undergraduates to discuss and analyse hypotheses, defend them, criticise and attempt to falsify them.

Will Moore describes the tutorial like this: “Its function is not to instruct: it is to set the student the task of expressing his thought articulately, and then to assist him in subjecting his creation to critical examination”. The tutorial system is “a sceptical method, a method that inquires, probes, scrutinises. It is not at its best in ex cathedra authoritative statement, but in criticism, theory, analysis, comparison.”

Short term humiliation for long term confidence

The tutorial system has some of the features of the Socratic system. From the student’s point of view, it can be both immensely frustrating – even humiliating – in the short term, and rewarding in the long term. The tutor is irritatingly unassailable because he or she rarely tenders a position that can be attacked. The burden is mostly on the student.

A fair portion of Plato’s dialogues consists of people getting irritated with Socrates’s constant questions and challenges.

It’s not impossible to replicate some of the effects of this system. Writing can be an internal dialogue if you learn to have a (good) imp on your shoulder constantly asking “is that actually true?” as you write. Reading critically can have a similar effect.

But training that imp independently isn’t necessarily the most efficient path to critical thought. Learning to think just by thinking is a long hard road. It doesn’t quickly reveal to you that other people can be right despite first appearances suggesting that they’re obviously wrong, stubborn and stupid. And it doesn’t teach you to defend and criticise out loud and inter vivos.

Buddhism has its masters. Business has its mentors. Brendan O’Leary had his Ernest Gellner. Does online learning have or need its own equivalent?


1. The Tutorial System (Word document, 560Kb) ^

Now that content is so important to the conversation between businesses and customers, should businesses be hiring somebody to pick out the best content on their websites?

After all, curation is the latest great thing. It seems to solve the problem that in some contexts, search is just too machiney. For example, Felix Salmon has just joined the ranks of curators with the launch of counterparties.com, “a curated snapshot of the best finance news and commentary”.

Of course, counterparties has existed for a good long time as a regular feature on Felix’s blog, but this launch on a separate domain represents a formalisation of the principle.

Herding sheep

From the point of view of news and content strategy, Counterparties is interesting because it’s neither fully human-powered nor chosen by algorithm. Instead, it combines both – the wisdom of crowds anchored by good old-fashioned human judgement about what’s interesting. Think of it as a shepherd (Felix) rounding up the content sheep using an intelligent sheepdog (the algorithm).

Counterparties combines our own judgment — what we find interesting, overlooked and important — with the recommendation engine created by our friends at Percolate.

The site joins other important curation sites such as The Browser and Brainpickings. They’re an answer to the problem of serendipity, which search generally fails to provide.

Laura Larsell sums up the problem:

“search” works best when you have a pretty good sense of what you are looking for. But most people, most of the time, do not have concrete ideas of what they really want.

Why U No Browse?

Is that true for your average commercial website? It’s debatable. There’s a strong case for organising content around the tasks people want to achieve when they arrive on your website: I want to buy a coffee machine; how do I apply for this course; what vegetarian options does the restaurant offer… and so on.

Browsing isn’t much use in that sort of task-orientated process. If anything, it’s a distraction. But Laura points out that companies like Amazon and Netflix already encourage serendipitous discovery by means of widgets that tell you what other people bought and what they list as great books and films.

With that in mind, it’s not hard to imagine ways an imaginary Chief Curation Officer might encourage browsing. A travel company might pick an interesting destination to highlight (indeed, this already happens on sites such as tripadvisor.com). An intranet manager might select best practice case studies or interesting quotes culled by the sales department from conversations with the customer. A bike shop might feature a video showing how to tackle the local downhill race course. And a university site might feature great ideas that appear in its undergraduate physics (or philosophy, or medicine) course.

Groupon has been described as a number of things – coupon merchant, advertising business, the missing bit of Google, and Ponzi scheme.

It’s also a publisher, with a content strategy that can be summarised as follows:

  1. Recruit a great many experienced writers and pay them well. They have around 1,000 writers, and are hiring furiously around the world. US salaries are 37k a year, and many writers are refugees from journalism.
  2. Devise a style guide to ensure that each offer has a quirky description, frequently touching on invented historical anecdotes, zombies or animals.
  3. Profit.

Of course, Groupon hasn’t yet achieved step three but it may only be a matter of time.

If you’re not familiar with Groupon, it’s a platform advertising special offers from local businesses. It contacts small businesses to persuade them to set up a significant discount on its goods and services then uses email, mobile, Twitter, FaceBook and its website to advertise them for a limited amount of time. It works because it effectively delivers attention and the promise of a large number of customers in a short time – a bit like an advert in a newspaper for a huge one-day sale in a local department store.

And there is the now famous Groupon voice, which appears to break all the rules of writing sales copy.

To put it bluntly, they don’t really sell. One aspiring candidate was told that “even hinting that the item on offer was in some way good was too “sales-y””

Groupon writers should avoid “positing our deal as the obvious solution to the reader’s imaginary problems”.

And they shouldn’t make “repetitive use of the imperative. The reader doesn’t want to be told what to do.” I think numerous marketers would disagree with that last assertion.

Instead of salesy copy, they describe the offers in a madcap fashion. Groupon’s style guide recommends using “Absurd images. Sweeping, dramatic nonsense, hypothetical worlds, fake proverbs, fake history and illogical comparisons.”

And those lists of three, without which a Groupon offer would seem naked.

When Yoga was first discovered it wasn’t taken seriously because the best practitioners were holistic hounds, contemplative crows, and flexible fish…

If foam noodles can be found floating on the surface of almost every pool, think how many perfectly salted meatballs must be at the bottom of the ocean. Start discovering the sea’s sunken treats with today’s Groupon…

And so on. Will it last? “Whimsy, like black lace underwear, is all right in its place” according to Rexroth, so perhaps whimsy has found its place in Groupon. “Nothing odd will do long” said Johnson, so perhaps it hasn’t.

A review of Content Strategy, by Kristina Halvorson.

Online content appears to be a puzzle. It seems to break the rules of economics so blatantly that it may be many years before we understand what it really is and does.

Sometimes content is regarded as a commodity. The market treats Pfizer’s web content as no different qualitatively to Microsoft’s web content, and gives them the same price – free to the consumer.

But your finance department may not look at it like that. Creating content consumes resources like time and money and it cannot often prove its return on investment.

The content creator, often supported by marketers and sometimes by enlightened management, has a third view. Content is a business asset. It’s now a vital part of marketing, e-commerce, product development, customer support, branding and other business activities.

Perhaps the answer to the content puzzle is simpler than it appears. Continue reading »

© 2012 Suffusion theme by Sayontan Sinha