Introduction
The theme for this Special Issue arose from a session at the 2018 Action Learning Conference, where Sonja Antell and Ruth Cook talked about their projects focused on urgent social issues such as poverty, homelessness and food insecurity. It was reminiscent of Revansâ characterisation of action learning as Helping Each Other to Help the Helpless (1982, 457â492).
Revansâ ambition extended well beyond management education to the improvement of the organisations and systems that we depend on and ultimately the societies in which we live. The session came alive for me because of the focus upon social improvement, upon, if you wish, the desire to make the world a better place. Fittingly, the conference was being held in Liverpool, in the worldâs 5th richest nation, where monuments to industry, empire and slavery mingle with the more recent signs of neglect and decay including homeless people on the streets.
Much of what is called action learning today is for personal and career development rather than for organisational and social improvement. This perhaps reflects an era infused by the individualistic ethos of market fundamentalism and so-called neo-liberalism (Edmonstone 2019), where the social takes a back seat to the quest for personal success.
What is social action?
There are two questions here: what do we mean by action in action learning? And, building on that, what do we mean by social action? Listening to Ruth & Sonja speak In Liverpool, it seemed obvious to me that this was social action â action to help those who suffered the deprivations of poverty or homelessness, but also to benefit the wider society. I put out the call for papers and, to judge by the enthusiastic response, seemed to catch a wave. Since then, I have been thinking more about the notion of social action, with the result that the picture has become richer and more complex, but as ever, not necessarily clearer! The following section is a summary of this thinking, to which some close colleagues made notable contributions.
Action
Action is the first requirement for action learning: it is the origin of significant learning and the outcome point of that learning. The inseparability of action and learning is emblematic, as in Revansâ epigrams: âLearning is cradled in the taskâ and âLearning involves doingâ (2011, 3â5); a view also shared with other âaction modalitiesâ (Raelin 2009) concerned with âactionable knowledgeâ (Argyris 1993). Action can be defined as âsomeoneâs doing something intentionallyâ, where someone is an agent or one having agency, that is, the power to act, and the something is an event, brought about by the agentâs intent (Honderich 1995: p4/5). But such definitions are slippery and rarely comprehensive. So for example, a person can be said to have done something even when doing nothing, whilst another can say that their most profound act is to change their thinking.
In editing these papers about action learning in the service of social improvement, I have urged contributors to make plain the social impact of their work. but this is not always so straightforward where outcomes might include people not doing things that they might otherwise have done or someone having a radical, but invisible thought. And yet, unlearning something, especially when it is a habit that has become dysfunctional, maybe far more effective than trying more new strategies; a transformative change of heart more powerful in its effects than any number of variations on existing themes.
But what distinguishes such an âactionâ from âinactionâ (Vince 2008)? This is hard to do if it remains private to the person and it would also not meet the action learning test. However profound an internal change of heart or mind, it is not an action in these terms unless it is shared with at least one other person. Revans liked to quote the Buddha to stress our moral responsibility in this respect:
It is better to do a little good than to write difficult books. The perfect man is nothing is he does not diffuse benefits on others, if he does not console the lonely. The way of salvation is open to all, but know that a man deceives himself if he thinks he can escape his conscience by taking refuge in a monastery. (Revans 2011, xiii)
Free will?
Rather like nature/nurture discussion in human development, there is a long-standing debate in the social sciences as to whether agency or structure is the most significant influence on human behaviour. In this argument, and roughly speaking, agency is the capacity of individuals to make free choices, whilst structure includes all the constraining economic, organisational and social arrangements including cultural factors such as customs, norms, ideologies and languages.1
In the social sciences, social constructionism has greatly influenced how we understand the idea of action. From this perspective, how we perceive reality depends on shared assumptions so that many of the things we take for granted and believe to be âtrueâ are actually constructed in human interaction. To illustrate this point, my colleague Chris Blantern likes to quote Richard Rortyâs epigram that even âNature has no name for itselfâ. On the other hand, it is clear that people can sometimes rise above structural constraints to resist and deny what is held to be common sense and true. Alongside many mundane examples, Victor Franklâs (1958) account of how he managed to make sense of, and even transcend, the hellish context of the concentration camp, inspired a generation of humanistic psychologists.
We do not live as atomised individuals, but in communities and societies. As social beings, we are both unfree and free. As persons subject to processes of acculturation and socialisation, and the internalisation of aspects of existing institutional frameworks and current systems of beliefs, ideas and values, we are not entirely free to create the world as we might want it. However, socialisation processes can be resisted and challenged; cultures and institutions are always being questioned and internally contested, with alternative ideas and voices existing alongside the orthodoxies. So we are unfree because we are inevitably constituted by these acculturation processes, creatures of our times; but also free because old institutions and social paradigms can be broken and new ones created. For us, social beings action learning offers a means of doing this work.
Social action
Whilst action learning assumes the possibility of personal agency, and the ability of the learner to encourage themselves and their fellow set members into action, it also holds that both action and learning are social processes. In action learning, participants learn with and from each other and act outside the set with other people in their organisations and communities. Without this involvement of other people, the notion of action hardly makes any sense, and thus all action is social action. In arriving at this view, Revans drew on the Scottish philosopher John Macmurray (1961), who forges a position bridging the poles of the structure/agency debate
Macmurrayâs achievement was in challenging Kantâs idea of the Self as primarily a thinker or knower (an âegocentric position implying âextreme logical individualismâ 1961, Vol. 1; xvii). Instead, he asserts the prior place of action before thought: âaction is ontologically prior, knowledge arises within actionâ (1961, Vol. 1, xvi). This is a revolutionary shift which turns Descartesâ view of the thinking Self on its head and puts in its place the acting Self: âI do, therefore I amâ. However, Macmurray goes on to argue, the very notion of Self implies an Other and we are always âpersons in relationâ: âWe exist only as agents, and in our existence, we are parts of the world ⌠.and ⌠in action the Self and the Other form a unityâ (1961, Vol. 1, 220). Because there is no atomistic individual self unrelated to other people, action can only take place between persons and in the interpersonal world; so, it is not so much âI do, therefore I amâ as âWe do, therefore we areâ.
Action in the world
Making plain the social impact of action learning may be difficult where individuals are engaged in invisible shifts or unlearning. but it can also be difficult because action learning happens in the contexts of organisations, communities and other social entities. Revans was very conscious of the need to extend the reach of action learning âoutwards from set to learning communityâ (2011, 71). He proposes an array of supporting structures to amplify the work of the set (âthe cutting edge of every action learning programmeâ 2011, 7) including sponsors, clients, client groups and supporting assemblies as part of âthe multiplier effectâ (2011, 12). These were the means to bring about the organisational and social transformations to which he aspired. Revansâ âgeneral theory of human action ⌠a science of praxeology.â (1971, 58; 33â67) consists of three systems or spheres: those of personal action and learning, specific project development and the wider whole system of organisations in their environments. Although such elaborate structures are rarely present in action learning programmes these days, the multiplier is visible in a number of these papers, as where Cathy Sharp, for example, talks about the âunknowable number of different peopleâ taking part in leadership processes (Sharp: 2).
For action learning to be deployed helpfully in social renewal and improvement, a whole systems perspective becomes essential for tackling those knotty issues where there are no simple solutions and where responses require collaboration from several agencies acting together. When I first heard Revans speak in 1976, he told us that action learning was a very simple idea, not new, but enshrined in ancient wisdom. It made sense to me, I got it, then and there. but the experience of trying to use it was anything but simple. For a start, nothing was ever incontestably âsuccessfulâ. We ran projects and they sometimes worked and they sometimes didnât; or some people were successful to a degree, whilst others showed little progress. Simple cause and effect are hard to trace in the dense networks of big systems and organisations; accidental ironies and unintended consequences could be counted on and successful outcomes, insofar as we could find proof of these, were too removed to be reasonably be tracked back to their origins.
In the face of these sorts of dilemmas, contradictions and intractable problems, action learning scholars have paid a good deal of attention to the idea of Critical Action Learning (CAL) (e.g. Edmonstone 2019; Pedler and Hsu 2014; Rigg and Trehan 2004; Trehan 2011; Vince 2004, 2008, 2012). CAL is a post-Revans response to the convoluted and political nature of action in complex systems of organisation. In dealing with such conundrums, unlearning may be as important as any new learning because things are as they are because of the way we have thought about and dealt with them in the past. Revans was aware of this, warning constantly of the âidolisation of the pastâ (2011, 41â50), and even proposing, in a whimsical moment, new professorships âto tell us not how to acquire knowledge but how to forget itâ (1982, 527).
So, we are actors not just in personal relations but in complex systems of organising, where particular actions form part of interactions and ramifications far beyond any individualâs reach and awareness. These forms of daily interaction. or micro-organisational acts. also go to make up the character of the organisation: for example, via hierarchical acts or by generative and collaborative actions, by democratic or controlling ones, including or excluding practices and so on. Many or most of these daily acts are habitual and thoughtless, but this is the âlife-worldâ that both generates actions and conditions them. Taken collectively these daily acts sediment into the structural, informing identities, local cultures, habits of taboo and deference and of how power is created, used and abused. This is also where action learning can sometimes help through the questioning and awareness raising processes that can produce changes of heart and mind where the near-invisible processes of change can begin.