John Seely Brown  Paul Duguid

STOLEN KNOWLEDGE

© 1992 Educational Technology Publications

A very great musician came and stayed in  [our] house. He made one big mistake  . . . [he] determined to teach me music,  and consequently no learning took place.  Nevertheless, I did casually pick up from  him a certain amount of stolen knowledge.

[Rabindrath Tagore quoted in  Bandyopadhyay, 1989: 45]

1 OPERATIONALIZATION VS LEGITIMIZATION

One of the most persistent educational questions  following discussions of situated learning has been,  How can these situated theories be operationalized?  (see Lave & Wenger, 1991, p.41.) In particular, for  those who share an interest in technology, the  questions have usually been of the sort: How can ideas  of situated learning be instantiated in educational  technology? What sort of systems can we build? What  sort of system would be most appropriate to teach x in  a situated way?

We find it quite difficult to address these  questions-not because it is impossible to build  technology to support learning, but because that is a  different problem from building technology for  teaching. Reconceptualizing learning, as situated  approaches have done, requires also reconceptualizing  prevalent notions of teaching, instruction, the  learner, subject matter, technology, and system,  transforming these into something quite different and  thereby making it difficult to phrase new answers in  old terms. The questions to be asked become radically  transformed.

For instance, in what follows, we try to provide some  sort justification for transforming the question, How  do you operationalize situated theory? into, How do  you legitimize theft? We try to do this particular  transformation by contrasting a set of oppositional  terms that respectively underpin and undermine  conventional notions of operationalization. These are

instruction vs learning
explicit vs implicit
individual vs social  systems
narrowly construed vs systems  broadly construed

The implications of these oppositions will, we hope,  justify our transformation of the initial question.

We base our very brief account here on a longer  analysis we did elsewhere in the context of workplace  learning, where most of our own work is centered  (Brown and Duguid, 1992). There are undoubtedly very  significant differences between schools and workplaces  as situations for learning. But there are also  important though often overlooked  commonalities-commonalities that situated approaches  have brought to the fore. Consequently, we believe  that by taking a situated approach there is a great  deal designers for either situation can learn from  each other.

2. TRANSFORMING TERMS  2.1 Instruction vs Learning  The distance between the initial question ("How do you  operationalize this theory?") and our transformation  ("How do you legitimize theft?") can be illustrated  most quickly by pointing to the inversion implicit in  the question. Where "situated learning" talks of  learning, questions about educational technology tend  to be framed around teaching and instruction. A  situated approach contests the assumption that  learning is a response to teaching.

It is undoubtedly a little unfair to accuse  questioners of inverting the order of things. It was  actually one of the primary insightful moves of Jean  Lave's work on situated learning (Lave, 1988, Lave et  al., 1989) to invert established perspectives and to  insist on looking at learning not, as is conventional,  from the pedagogical perspective, but instead from the  learner's perspective. Whether the learner is a school  kid, a carpenter, a cardiologist, or a CEO, if you  want to understand learning and what is learned in any  interaction you have to investigate from the point of  view of that learner. From that perspective it becomes  immediately clear that even if a learner did not learn  what a teacher, or educational technology, or  workplace instructor attempted to teach, it is not  justifiable to conclude that nothing was learned.

The importance of shifting perspective can in part be  explained by the difference between the two implicit  views of what learning is. On the one hand, it is seen  as the end result of a process of transmitting  knowledge. When teaching is successful, according to  this view, learners will "have" what the teacher  transmitted; when it is unsuccessful, they will not.  Knowledge then, is unchanging and transitive; learners  and teachers, for the most part are either competent  or deficient. The knowledge is either successfully or  unsuccessfully taught and learned.

The alternative view sees learning as part of an  inevitably unfinished, but continuous process that  goes on throughout life. Each event, circumstance, or  interaction is not discrete. Rather, each is  assimilated or appropriated in terms of what has gone  before. The process is not, then, like the addition of  a brick to a building-where the brick remains as  distinct and self-contained as it was in the builder's  hand. Instead, it is a little like the addition of  color to color in a painting, where the color that is  added becomes inseparably a part of the color that was  there before and both are transformed in the process.  Thus, what is learned can never be judged solely in  terms of what is taught.

Of course, this paint metaphor is still misleading.  Learning is not such a passive activity. The shade  that events, circumstances, or interactions take on in  the process of learning are determined through active  appropriation. This appropriation is unlikely to  involve simply what an instructor hopes to impart. It  is more likely to involve many other peripheral  features of which the teacher might be unaware, but  which collectively make sense for the learner. For the  act of appropriation is simultaneously an act of  sense-making in terms of the learner's view of the  world.

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The point is illustrated in our opening quotation from  Tagore, the Indian poet, musician, and Nobel laureate.  Describing the role of the instructor hired to teach  him music, Tagore writes "he determined to teach me  music, and consequently no learning took place"-at  least, no learning in the terms laid out by the  teacher and his syllabus. But Tagore reveals with  wonderful insight that something important and  profound did result from interactions between these  two: "Nevertheless, I did pick up from him a certain  amount of stolen knowledge" (our emphasis). This  knowledge Tagore "stole" by watching and listening to  the musician as the latter, outside his classes,  played for his own and others' entertainment. Only  then, and not in dismembered didactic exercises, was  Tagore able to see and understand the social practice  of musicianship.

It is a fundamental challenge for design-for both the  school and the workplace to redesign the learning  environment so that newcomers can legitimately and  peripherally participate in authentic social practice  in rich and productive ways to, in short, make it  possible for learners to "steal" the knowledge they  need.

2.2 Explicit vs Implicit  Part of the need to "steal" arises because relatively  little of the complex web of actual practice can be  made the subject of explicit instruction. A great deal  inevitably remains implicit in practice itself, where  it is always available, for those who have access, to  be stolen as required. The alternative, conventional  route of trying to render the implicit explicit is  highly problematic.

In the first place, though certain implicit aspects of  practice can be made explicit for instruction, there  is no such thing as a "complete" account (see Suchman,  1987). Consequently, a learner offered only explicit  information faces an inevitably partial and often  incoherent account of practice. Furthermore, in being  explicated, the implicit loses its value as implicit  knowledge. The two-implicit and explicit-play two  different roles. Compared to abstracted, explicit  knowledge the implicit aspects of practice, while  occasionally difficult to get in perspective, have a  dynamism by virtue of their very implicitness. They  are inherent in practice and change and evolve with  it. By contrast, abstractions, like signposts, can  provide crucial clarification and direction in  confused situations. But like signposts, they too can  be made irrelevant by practice as it evolves and  develops new routes across the domain.

Because of its emphasis on the implicit in practice,  situated arguments have occasionally been accused of  championing the implicit, and denouncing the explicit  and abstract as if these were somehow antithetical to  practice (e.g. Palincsar, 1989; see also Brown,  Collins, & Duguid, 1989b and Lave, in preparation).  But explication and abstraction are themselves  situated social practices. They are developed in the  process of ongoing activity of one sort or another.  Thus they cannot be inherently antithetical to it.  They do, however, have to be understood in terms of  the specific social practice in which they play a  part. Being socially located, though abstract, they  are not universal. Problems arise, then, not through  abstraction per se, but rather through the detachment  of abstractions from the practices in which they were  created. In particular, problems arise from the  imposition on one practice of abstractions developed  in another.

Put more generally, abstractions become problematic  when their own historical and social locations as  practice are ignored. They need to be kept close to  and reflect actual, ongoing practice. As Etienne  Wenger's (in press) work on the use of expert systems  suggests, technologies whose representations of the  complexities of practice are misleadingly partial may  make that practice difficult or even impossible. In  terms of workplace design for learning, then, it is  important both to honor the implicit aspects of  practice and to ensure that abstractions, as they are  needed, are a function of that practice, not an  intervention from outside.

2.3 Individual vs Social  Practice, like abstraction and explication, is not  universal. On the other hand, none of these is  individual. Rather, all three are contained within  social milieux that Lave and Wenger (1991) identify as  "communities of practice". It is implicitly in the  context of these that learners make sense of practice.  It is almost impossible to make enduring, coherent  sense if the individual is cut off from the practice  in which his or her particular activity makes sense.

Even though individual instruction is extensive, if  the social context is missing confusion and  disillusion are likely. By contrast, even though  instruction is minimal, quite complex practices can be  learned effectively and easily where the social  context is evident and supportive.

For example, people who are judged unfit to learn to  operate relatively simple tools or who fail to learn  rudimentary domestic appliances usually learn to  operate an enormously complex machine that presents  users with a hazardous and continually changing  environment and an enormous array of increasingly  sophisticated technology-the car. Cars are socially so  well integrated that the learning becomes almost  invisible. The success of learner drivers-with or  without instruction-should undoubtedly be the envy and  the object of many who design far less complex  consumer or workplace appliances. Consider, by  contrast, the triumphal despair with which people  frustratedly boast that they can't use their VCR.

The important distinction here is that driving is a  fundamentally social practice. Almost everyone in our  society who learns to drive has already spent a great  deal of their lives traveling in cars or buses, along  roads and highways. They begin to learn to drive with  an implicitly structured social understanding of the  task. Then, even if the task is decomposed, the  learner need never lose sight of the overall practice.  The social world provides scaffolding-and a highly  dynamic, versatile scaffolding at that. In fact,  something similar is true of the VCR. Most can use  their machine to play tapes. What they find difficult  is recording. Here, as with learning to drive, a  central distinction between these two functions is  that one is often a social act, the other highly  individual. You might invite a group over to watch a  movie, but you are unlikely to invite a group over to  watch you record. To get over the learning problems  that have emerged from increasing isolation -an  isolation that often results from modern  technologies-user groups have flourished in recent  years providing people living or working alone with  some efficient access to social periphery that can  help support and make sense of use.

To relate this again to the design of technology for  learning, it seems important not simply to fragment or  decompose tasks to make them didactically tractable on  their own and for individuals. Any decomposition of  the task must be done with an eye not to the task or  the user in isolation, but to the learner's need to  situate the decomposed task in the context of the  overall social practice. The presence of the full  context gives the learner the chance to "steal"  whatever he or she finds most appropriate. It is  vitally important not to fragment the social  periphery. One of the missions of technological design  should be to provide the glue for this social  periphery and to design with an eye both to using the  social periphery, and where possible, to enhancing it.

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2.4 Systems Narrowly Construed vs Systems Broadly  Construed  Finally, if it is important not to cut the individual  learner off from a larger perspective on the  encompassing social practice, similarly it is equally  important not to isolate the technology. Boundaries  around technologies tend to be remarkably tightly  drawn. "Peripherals," "software," and even "users"  tend to be defined by exclusion. The technology comes  thus to be seen in splendid isolation, to be described  in terms of "self-containment," "self-explanation," or  "context-independence." Isolation of technology  undoubtedly has it attractions: it appears to  eliminate the thorny problem of context. But, in fact,  isolation ultimately makes both design and use  overwhelmingly hard tasks because nothing is  self-explanatory. There is no universal, autonomous,  and indubitable language of explanation. Designers  keep things simple not by isolating artifacts, but by  embedding them in the context in which they will be  used. This is the system broadly construed embracing  not just the technology, but also the practices, and  the communities of practice.

The system in the conventionally narrow sense of the  term needs to be connected to this broader system-to  the material, technological, and social system that  surrounds the practice of which the individual  technology forms just one part. Then, a learner can  look beyond the immediate object into its periphery to  find the means to make sense of a particular task to  find-in Tagore's words, which piece of knowledge it is  most appropriate to steal.

3 LPP AS LEGITIMATE THEFT  These ideas about what learning is and how it occurs,  make it difficult for us to talk in standard terms of  "operationalization" and instructional technology. For  us what is required is summed up in Lave and Wenger's  (1991) notion of "legitimate peripheral  participation." In the context of their work, on which  we rely heavily, a few more points are probably worth  making. The first is simply and briefly to direct  people whose interest we might have aroused to Lave's  and Wenger's own work (e.g., Lave, 1991, 1992; in  preparation; Lave et al., 1992; Lave & Wenger, 1990,  1991; Wenger, forthcoming). This work unfolds a rich,  complex picture of what a situated view of learning  needs to account for and emphasizes, in particular the  social, rather than merely physical nature of  situatedness.

Next, a few clarifications are probably helpful.  First, as Lave (1991) herself notes, the situation is  not simply another term for the immediate, physical  context. If it is to carry any significant conceptual  import, it has to be explored in social and historical  terms. Two people together in a room are not  inevitably identically situated, and the situated  constraints on practice do not simply arise in and  through such isolated interactions. The people and the  constraints importantly have social and historical  trajectories. These also need to be understood in any  situated account.

Second, community of practice denotes a locus for  understanding coherent social practice. Thus it does  not necessarily align with established communities or  established ideas about what communities are.  Community in Lave & Wenger's view is not, a "warmly  persuasive term for an existing set of relations"  (Williams, 1977). Communities can be, and often are,  diffuse, fragmented, and contentious. We suspect,  however, that it may be this very connotation of warm  persuasiveness that has made the concept so attractive  to some.

Third, legitimate peripheral participation (lpp) is  not an academic synonym for apprenticeship.  Apprenticeship can offer a useful metaphor for the way  people learn. In the end, however, in part because of  the way apprenticeship has historically been  "operationalized," the metaphor can be seriously  misleading. As LPP has occasionally been located  somewhere between indentured servitude and  conscription.

As Lave and Wenger put it:

Legitimate peripheral participation is not  itself an educational form, much less a  pedagogical strategy or a teaching  technique. It is an analytic viewpoint on  learning, a way of understanding learning.  We hope to make it clear that learning  through legitimate peripheral participation  takes place no matter which educational form  provides a context for learning, or whether  there is any intentional educational form at  all. Indeed, this viewpoint makes a  fundamental distinction between learning and  intentional instruction. [1991: 40]

One of the powerful implications of this view is that  the best way to support learning is from the demand  side rather than the supply side. That is, rather than  deciding ahead of time what a learner needs to know  and making this explicitly available to the exclusion  of everything else, designers and instructors need to  make available as much as possible of the whole rich  web of practice-explicit and implicit-allowing the  learner to call upon aspects of practice, latent in  the periphery, as they are needed.

This is certainly not a trivial challenge-particularly  for schools. The workplace, where our work has been  concentrated, is perhaps the easiest place to design  because, despite the inevitable contradictions and  conflict, it is rich with inherently authentic  practice-with a social periphery that, as Orr's (1990)  or Shaiken's (1990) work shows, can even supersede  attempts to impoverish understanding. Consequently,  people often learn, complex work skills despite  didactic practices that are deliberately designed to  deskill. Workplace designers (and managers) should be  developing technology to honor that learning ability,  not to circumvent it.

The classroom presents a quite different challenge.  Classroom conditions are often assumed to be the ideal  place for all forms of learning. In our view they are,  in fact, highly problematic. There is undoubtedly  ongoing practice in the classroom, and there is  learning. But the gap between these and the didactic  goals of education is often severe. We have protested  against attempts to deal with workplace learning by  taking people out of the workplace and putting them in  classrooms.

Goldman's (1992) work illustrates the richness of the  interpersonal interaction that is usually either  overlooked or deliberately disrupted in the classroom.  She, like Eckert (1989), shows how the primary  activity in a classroom is the student's construction  of their identities. This activity is generally viewed  as an aberration or a distraction. Yet it offers a  rich resource. Goldman points to the overlapping  worlds in the context of which students, in  conversation with one another, construct their  understanding and their identities. If these are  curtailed, then so is much of the learning potential.  Students, she notes, are eminently capable of  "accomplishing work with each other," but this is  importantly, "on their own terms." Their social work,  she emphasizes, is

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not counterproductive to the accomplishment  of their science work and may even be a  necessary prerequisite. . . . When the group  engaged in conceptual learning conversations  they became very close, focussed and  unified. [1992: 7]

Roschelle's (in press) work follows similar lines. He  too saw conceptual change arising out of  collaboration. The students he studied worked, like  Goldman's, with a physics microworld. And their  insights too came not so much through studying the  simulation as through talking about it. In  conversation-supported by the technology which allowed  them to test their hypotheses, illustrate their  inchoate thoughts, and review and revise their  developing understanding-the students converged on a  shared, articulated understanding.

The means to build connections between learners and to  the world of full-blooded practice are essential. In  the workplace, learners can, when they need, steal  their knowledge from the social periphery made up of  other, more experienced workers and ongoing, socially  shared practice. The classroom, unfortunately, tends  to be too well secured against theft. The actual  practices under study can often neither be stolen nor  constructively discussed. Only replicas and not the  real thing are on display. The more educational  technology is constrained to "essentials" and  "individuals" the more it resembles a nugatory  "delivery system," the more it risks becoming theft  proof. If Tagore had had to survive on what was given  in isolation, rather than what he took in company, he  might never have learned as he did. A preferable goal,  it seems to us, is to design technology that provides  an underconstrained "window" onto practice, allowing  students to look through it onto as much actual  practice as it can reveal, to see to increasingly  greater depths, and to collaborate in exploration. The  closer such technology can come to making theft  possible, the better it is likely to be.

REFERENCES  Bandyopadhyay, P. 1989. Rabindranath Tagore. Calcutta: Anglia.

Brown, John and Paul Duguid, in press. Rethinking the Border in  Design: An exploration of central and peripheral relations in  practice.

Brown, John and Paul Duguid, 1992. Enacting Design for the  Workplace. In Paul Adler and Terry Winograd (eds.), Design for  Human-Computer Interaction, 1993. Oxford: Oxford University  Press.

Brown, John and Paul Duguid. 1991. Organizational Learning and  Communities of Practice: Toward a unified view of working,  learning, and innovation. Organizational Science, 2 (1): 40-57.

Brown, John, Allan Collins, and Paul Duguid. 1989a. Situated  Cognition and the Culture of Learning. Educational Researcher:  18 [1]: 32-42.

Brown, John, Allan Collins, and Paul Duguid. 1989b. Debating the  Situation. Educational Researcher: 18 [2]: 10-12.

Eckert, Penny. 1989. Jocks and Burnouts. New York: Teachers  College Press.

Goldman, Shelley. 1991. Computer Resources for Supporting  Student Conversations about Science Concepts. Sigcue Outlook 21  [3]: 4-7.

Lave, Jean. In preparation. The Savagery of the Domestic Mind.  In L. Nader (ed.), The Anthropology of Science.

Lave, Jean. 1991. Socially Shared Cognition. In L Resnick, J.  Levine, and S. Teasley (eds.), Perspectives on Socially Shared  Cognition. Washington D.C.: American Psychological Association.

Lave, Jean. 1988. The Culture of Acquisition and the Practice of  Understanding. Report IRL88-0007. Palo Alto: Institute for  Research on Learning.

Lave, Jean, Paul Duguid, Nadine Fernandez, Erik Axel. 1992.  Coming of Age In Birmingham. Annual Reviews in Anthropology,  1992. Palo Alto: Annual Reviews Inc.

Lave, Jean, James Greeno, Alan Schoenfeld, Steven Smith, and  Michael Butler. 1988 Learning Mathematical Problem Solving.  Report IRL88-0006. Palo Alto: Institute for Research on  Learning.

Lave, Jean and Etienne Wenger. 1991. Situated Learning:  Legitimate peripheral participation. New York: Cambridge  University Press.

Orr, Julian. 1990. Talking about Machines: An ethnography of a  modern job. Ph.D. Thesis. Cornell University, Department of  Anthropology.

Palincsar, Annemarie. 1989. Less Charted Waters. Educational  Researcher: 18 [2]: 5-7.

Roschelle, Jeremy. In press. Learning by Collaborating:  Convergent conceptual change. Journal of the Learning Sciences.

Shaiken, Harley. 1990. Mexico in the Global Economy: High  technology and work organization in export industries. Center  for U.S.-Mexican Studies Monograph 33. San Diego, CA: University  of California, San Diego.

Suchman, Lucy. 1987. Plans and Situated Actions. New York:  Cambridge University Press.

Wenger, Etienne. Forthcoming. Communities of Practice. New York:  Cambridge University Press, 1993.

Williams, Raymond. 1976: Keywords: A vocabulary of culture and  society. Oxford: Oxford University Press. [Image]