Abstract
At a time when technicist understandings of educational leadership are hegemonic, it is important to be reminded that ‘If it isn’t ethical, it isn’t leadership’ (title of Branson’s closing chapter). There has been too much hollow talk of ‘vision’ when all that is intended is rearranging the deckchairs on the Titanic. A handbook which successfully brought together inspirational practice and illuminating theory, and from many different settings, would have pride of place on my bookshelves. Unfortunately, this isn’t it.
The editors are clearly dedicated to their theme, and bring together here a number of authors with whom they have worked closely over the years, in a project connecting several North American universities, as well as some others. Unfortunately, the collection does not have the necessary breadth to be authoritative, either in terms of writers on educational change or of moral philosophers more broadly. Where, among the former, are Michael Fielding (England) or Bob Lingard (Australian), for example, let alone writers in other languages such as Ramon Flecha or, indeed, Paulo Freire? Of moral philosophers, as an example – and I could name many others – Alisdair MacIntyre is mentioned only once and Nancy Fraser not at all. The lengthy index, indeed, does not mention poverty or disadvantage, racism or Islamophobia, peace or war. Surprisingly absent too (although dealt with to a limited extent in some chapters) is the accountability framework imposed on public services by neoliberal regimes, with such features as high-stakes testing, governance by numbers, the hypocrisy of ‘No Child Left Behind’ and its equivalents, market competition and out-and-out privatisation.
This is not nit-picking, since it is symptomatic of the book’s limited treatment of both moral philosophy and educational policy. A broader scholarship than this is needed to provide the basis for the crucial task of reconstructing the field of ‘educational leadership’ as currently constructed, along with its mountain of soporific texts.
The book has strength in its attempt to work patiently at building models for the practice and development of leadership. These include, for example, Robert Starratt’s consideration of autonomy, connectedness and transcendence; Carolyn Sheilds’ cluster of emancipation, democracy, equity and justice; and Christopher Branson’s of competence, integrity, authenticity. This patient work is important, but cannot, I suspect, be carried through successfully if it floats free of the context of a world in crisis on so many fronts, and schools which are hindered by neoliberal policy regimes from responding in genuinely educational ways to what is happening in the wider society. Consequently, apart from several chapters, the handbook echoes in genre and style the contextual vagueness and individualism of the canon of leadership texts which it aims to challenge.
This is not to deny the value of challenging individuals in leadership positions, or indeed programmes of preparation for new headteachers/principals. Kjersti Lien Holte’s chapter is an excellent example, dealing with reasons why critique often fails to happen and unjust structures and practices go unchallenged: silences can result from both an organisational cultural of fear and a cosy feel-good culture.