One of the problematic areas of using storytelling as a tool for understanding ourselves and our world is that the relationship between story and truth is often fuzzy and unreliable.
But what if we went all in on creating imaginary worlds and situations as a way of understanding and changing the real world? What if we deliberately used fiction?
A few weeks ago I was a participant at the Research in Digital Learning in HE conference (RIDL) hosted at Northumbria University. There were 2 experiences at this event that made me consider this question.
I’ll start with Neil Dixon from Anglia Ruskin’s session “Exploring AI and the future of digital learning through fiction”.
I thought from the title this was going to be about looking at existing stories in literature and media for answers to some of the questions we might have about technology in education. Instead, Neil courageously got a room full of people writing their own fiction.
We all imagined and wrote about possible scenarios to help us grapple with different dimensions of what Andrew Middleton, also of Anglia Ruskin and speaking at the conference, would have recognised as the ambiguity, complexity and paradoxes of real life.
I found this activity, paradoxically, terrifying and weirdly liberating. Neil provided us with a scope for the stories and a brief 10 minutes to write something; not long but GeorgAI is usually so reliable that just meant that had to create something really focused and paired down. Sometimes being forced to leave stuff out makes you concentrate on what really matters. I think Neil would usually have made sure there was more time but the conference agenda constrained things.
Cheekily, I ditched the scope we’d been offered as I had a little flash of inspiration and wanted to explore that. I’d been thinking about how in stories we can learn as much from when things go wrong as we can describing what happens when they go right.
If you can bear it, I’ve transcribed what I came up with in the time we had. I’ve tidied it up a little from my scribbles but not changed anything of substance. If you prefer to skip to the end, this is what I think I learned from doing this.
Articulating ambiguity
I’m ambivalent about the role of AI in society and education, and imagining a scenario in which someone using AI experiences the mixed results of its failure meant I came up with a sort of parable that encapsulated those mixed feelings in a way that helped me to think more deeply about it. I hadn’t expected that to happen.
By telling a small story about a single imaginary incident meant I was able to tell myself a bigger story. Without the framework of the story It would have been harder to articulate this, I think.
Context is important
If you did read the story you’re probably feeling a little underwhelmed. What you’d be missing is that this was actually a social exercise where we shared our fictional stories in small groups and talked through our responses. The purpose of Neil’s session wasn’t ultimately about how to write a good story, it was to think through the issues and how the act of storytelling could enhance those discussions.
Reading the story without that context probably makes you view it differently and takes away a lot of the value of the process. You’re left with a stranded “product” that fails to work in isolation.
I’m not a writer
I feel really vulnerable sharing my story with you. I’m worried what you think of the way I wrote it, not just the story it tries to tell. We’re surrounded by stories expertly crafted by seasoned professionals and for all the tricksy little things I tried to do to get the story done in 10 mins, I’m painfully aware of its literary shortcomings.
So what? I’ve already said that context is important. For me it’s about how it’s important when leading that sort of exercise you acknowledge that nervousness in people, or the second guessing about “is this any good?” means people will put limits on their creativity. Neil did a great job of making a space where we felt comfortable and the conference as a whole was run in a way that gave us permission to play and be creative.
It introduces an element of risk and unpredictability to the process that could lead to unintended outcomes. How you frame the exercise is really important.
Storytelling isn’t always a safe and cosy exercise. It can feel dangerous, disruptive and even transgressive. Which brings us to the University of Banford and part 2. Read on…
Note: Little Fictions is the title of a rather fabulous 2017 album by Elbow.
Photo by Mo Eid
