Interrogating participation across disciplinary boundaries: Lessons from political philosophy,cultural studies,art,and education

Definitions and key debates

(Re)Rooting the concept of participation in the literature of political philosophy, Carpentier (2011b) defines participation as “a political—in the broad meaning of the concept of the political—process where the actors involved in decision-making processes are positioned towards each other through power relationships that are (to an extent) egalitarian” (p. 31). Centered on the distribution of power, this view of participation is heavily influenced by the work of Carole Pateman (1970), who argued that a participatory society is a necessary prerequisite for the existence of a truly democratic political system. According to Pateman, in order for maximum participation to be feasible, “social training” for democracy must take place in spheres other than the political realm. Since individuals participating in these alternative spheres are being socialized for democracy, Pateman views the process of participation as quintessentially educative. Importantly, these alternative spheres—which she views as “political systems in their own right” (p. 43)—include the domains of work, arts, and culture; if we apply her theories to our contemporary sociocultural landscape, online spaces that facilitate participation can be considered to fulfill this educative function as well.

Like Pateman, Habermas (1991) also locates significant participatory opportunities outside the realm of institutional politics. Whereas Pateman emphasizes the educative aspect of participation, Habermas highlights its communicative aspect, introducing the concept of the public sphere as a domain of social life where the affairs of the state are discussed, through rational deliberation and debate, by “private people gathered together as a public” (p. 176). Habermas distinguished between two types of public spheres: political (constituted mainly around everyday news) and literary (allowing for deep reflection on long-term social and cultural issues). McGuigan (2005) further extended the notion of a literary public sphere to account for broader cultural activity, including, significantly, engagement with media and popular culture. Thus, in McGuigan’s view, activities such as creating memes or posting parody videos on YouTube become an important form of political participation, embodying the articulation of politics through affective modes of communication.

If the notion of the public sphere is seen “as a metaphor that suggests a mode and ideal for civic participation and interaction,” it is tempting to view the Internet—with its ability to facilitate boundless and unregulated discourse beyond geographic boundaries—as a virtual public sphere (Papacharissi, 2009: 234). However, Papacharissi (2009) cautions against the oversimplified conflation of the Internet with the virtual incarnation of the public sphere, noting several distinct conditions that reduce its democratizing potential and distance it from the original concept of the public sphere: the narcissistic nature of online political deliberation, the selective uses of online media for political purposes, and the commercial/consumerist aspects of online public spaces. Bruns (2008b) similarly notes the decline of a mass-mediated public sphere, which he suggests has been replaced by “a variety of networked issue publics, possibly acting as public spherules in their own right” (p. 71). Nonetheless, both Papacharissi and Bruns agree that, while the Internet might not represent a public sphere in its traditional and ideal form, this does not diminish the political significance of online media as crucial spaces for democratic action and deliberation, as we have seen, for instance, with the vital role of YouTube in the Arab Spring movements, or the impact of social media in drawing attention to recent police brutality cases.

Another crucial question about the role of new media in regards to political participation is whether it facilitates the political involvement of previously disengaged groups (the so-called mobilization thesis) or, conversely, whether it maintains or even deepens participatory gaps (i.e. the reinforcement thesis; Norris, 2000). Recent research has found strong support for the mobilization thesis, particularly in regard to the political engagement of young people online (Oser et al., 2013). Indeed, there is accumulating evidence that young people are participating politically in a new way, by taking advantage of the multimodal affordances of new media (Jenkins et al., 2016), engaging fan communities around civic and political issues (Kligler-Vilenchik, 2015), and building self- and collective efficacy, while fighting against their own social and political disenfranchisement (Zimmerman, 2012).

Degrees of participation

Compared to discussions of participation in other domains, political philosophers have been relatively quick to indicate the vagueness of the term, and to identify the need for a more nuanced understanding of the various degrees or levels of participation. Authors writing in this tradition often view participation along a continuum, where the central criterion is the distribution of power: at one end of the spectrum, power is concentrated and participation is limited, while towards the other end of the continuum, power is more equally distributed and participation is maximized. Arnstein (1969), Pateman (1970) and Carpentier (2009), for instance, offer three illustrations of this model. In an influential 1969 article, Arnstein introduced her so-called “ladder of participation,” which identifies eight types (or “rungs”) of participation: manipulation, therapy, informing, consultation, placation, partnership, delegated power, and, finally, citizen control. Out of these, the first two are non-participatory, and only the latter three rungs constitute—or have the potential to constitute—citizen power. Pateman (1970) distinguishes between partial participation and full participation. In her view, partial participation is “a process in which two or more parties influence each other in the making of decisions but the final power to decide rests with one party only” (p. 70), while full participation occurs when “each individual member of a decision-making body has equal power to determine the outcome of decisions” (p. 71). Echoing Pateman’s work, Carpentier (2009) makes a useful distinction between minimalist and maximalist forms of democratic participation. The former is characterized by strong power imbalances between the actors, while the latter has a more egalitarian relationship between the actors.

Strengths and opportunities

In particular, the way that participation has been framed in political contexts is valuable, because it foregrounds the concept of power. As participation is becoming a ubiquitous buzzword across an increasingly diverse range of contexts, it is crucial to keep in mind that the concept “is strongly related to the power logics of decision-making, whether it is explicit or implicit, formal or informal, minimalist or maximalist and egalitarian or not” (Carpentier and Dahlgren, 2011: 8).

Specifically, a more pronounced emphasis on the (re)distribution of power allows scholars to better evaluate the outcomes of participation, and to determine whether these participatory processes actually change the status quo. In the words of Arnstein (1969), “participation without redistribution of power is an empty and frustrating process for the powerless. It allows the powerholders to claim that all sides were considered, but makes it possible for only some of those sides to benefit” (p. 216). This observation is highly valuable when applied to other domains as well. In art, for instance, while participation is a progressive development and has been received with much enthusiasm, most often it does not fundamentally challenge the underlying power structures that define the art world (Beech, 2008), as I will illustrate later. Similar observations have been made in regards to participation in cultural production, especially in view of the strong influence that commercial media stakeholders continue to wield in this domain (Jenkins et al., 2013; Schaefer, 2011). ¹

Another lesson to be learned from the political philosophy literature is in regards to the educative function of participation. As Pateman (1970) argues, we learn to participate by participating: “participation develops and fosters the very qualities necessary for it” (pp. 42–43). From this perspective, it is easy to see a connection to the way that Jenkins et al. (2006) apply notions of participation within the context of education, which will be explored in the final section of this article. Both Pateman and Jenkins subscribe to the notion that there are certain participatory skills that need to be cultivated, especially in youth. Even the language they employ is similar, with Jenkins defining new media literacies (NMLs) as “cultural competencies and social skills” (Pateman: “participatory skills”) needed for “full participation” (Pateman: “maximum participation”) in the contemporary cultural landscape.

Definitions and key debates

Whereas the first wave of writing on new media cultures relied on the notion of interactivity to describe the shift in audience–media relations, contemporary theorizations have re-embraced the concept of participation as a key cultural descriptor (Carpentier, 2012). This shift is highly significant, given that there is a crucial distinction between interactivity and participation, with the former emerging from technological design, while the latter stems from social and cultural practices (Jenkins and Carpentier, 2013). As it becomes apparent from a survey of the literature in this area, the relationship between participation and technology has been at the center of important debates and distinctions within cultural studies.

Bruns (2008a) introduced the notion of “produser” to represent the merging of the producer and the consumer in the Web 2.0 environment; this term has been widely embraced in analyses of a wide range of online phenomena, from Wikipedia to crowdsourcing to open source software development. Jenkins, one of the main investigators of participation in the cultural studies field, provides a definition anchored in his long-term interest in fan practices: he suggests that

a participatory culture is one with relatively low barriers to artistic expression, and strong support for creating and sharing one’s work with others; its members believe that their contributions matter, and feel some degree of social connection to one another. (Jenkins et al., 2006: 3)

In Bastard Culture!, Schaefer (2011) argues that participatory culture should not be reduced to its symptoms—meaning, primarily, the activity of taking part in processes of cultural production and distribution. Instead, he suggests that the concept is actually

a complex discourse consisting of the following factors:

(a) A rhetoric that advocates social progress through technological advancement

(b) A cultural critique demanding the reconfiguration of power relations

(c) The qualities of related technologies

(d) How these qualities are used for design and user appropriation

(e) The socio-political dynamics related to using the technologies. (p. 14)

Based on this conceptual mapping, Schaefer places a much greater emphasis on the role of technology in enabling or limiting participation, while Jenkins is primarily concerned with the social and cultural factors that determine the use of technology for participatory purposes.

Commenting on the role of technology in facilitating participation, Deuze (2006) notes that a common problem in the scholarship on new media and society is “the often implicit conflation of ‘culture’—as in the shared norms, values, practices, and expectations of a group of people—with communication technologies.” Although he acknowledges the tremendous impact of new media technologies on contemporary social and cultural processes, he warns against mistaking “the new spaces opened up by communications technology for new forms of culture” (p. 63). Instead, he suggests viewing digital culture as an emerging system of values and expectations, centered around three keys processes: participation, remediation, and bricolage (Deuze, 2006).

Adopting a similar view, Jenkins (2006a, 2006b, 2014) has also tried to steer clear of the trap of technological determinism. He acknowledges that, beyond new communication technologies, there are a multitude of other factors that have paved the way for the rise of participatory cultures. In Fans, Bloggers, and Gamers (2006b), he identifies three major trends that explain the participatory ethos of contemporary media cultures: the emergence of new tools and technologies that facilitate participatory activities; the increasing prominence of do it yourself (DIY) approaches to media production, particularly in subcultural communities; and an economic environment encouraging the active production and circulation of media across multiple channels.

As with Jenkins’ research, significant scholarship on participation in the cultural domain has emerged from the specific field of fan studies (Baym, 2000; Hills, 2002; Sandvoss, 2005). The focus on fandom as a microcosm of cultural participation—or its potentiality—can be explained in part by the fact that fans are considered to be “ideal active viewers” who consume critically and often create original media texts (Consalvo, 2003). In addition, as Hills (2002, 2013) has argued, fan-based online participation is quintessentially fluid and escapes simple active/passive dichotomies, allowing for complex analyses of mediated participation. In fact, Jenkins (2007) optimistically posits that fans’ online engagement offers a window into the future of new media and participation, suggesting that this model of participation will represent the way all audiences will ultimately interact with media.

Degrees of participation

Given the proliferation of participatory and pseudo-participatory opportunities within the new media landscape, theorists in the cultural studies tradition have been increasingly pre-occupied with determining what constitutes meaningful cultural participation. Often, this question becomes framed as an inquiry into the lower limits of participation. In a recent dialogue, Jenkins and Carpentier (2013) have debated whether interpretation, production, curation, and circulation can be seen as potentially meaningful forms of participation. In Carpentier’s view, the answer is yes, with the exception of interpretation, which he argues is a form of interaction. Jenkins, however, in light of his extensive study of fan cultures, is more amenable to the participatory potential of interpretation, although he admits that, in and of itself, interpretation does not necessarily constitute participation. This difference of perspective is especially interesting, given the respective disciplinary backgrounds and analytical lenses that they represent: Jenkins comes from the cultural studies tradition, and started studying participation ethnographically in applied contexts, in the realm of fandom, while Carpentier harks from a discourse-theoretical background and thinks about participation in a more abstract sense, primarily in relation to political-democratic processes. Their conversation also reveals that sometimes it depends how one looks at participation. As Fish et al. (2011) aptly note, in many cases, the same online action or behavior can be read as participatory or not, depending on one’s particular viewpoint; often, this determination has to do—as in Jenkins and Carpentier’s conversation—with the disciplinary and methodological traditions that are represented.

Also in regard to the lower limits of participation, a more contentious debate is whether participation must be a deliberate act. Some cultural commentators (Kelty, 2012; Schaefer, 2011) argue that it does not necessarily have to be deliberate. In Bastard Culture!, Schaefer (2011) distinguishes between implicit and explicit participation, although he considers both to be forms of participation. In his view, explicit participation represents “intrinsically motivated actions exercised in social formations which share a high degree of interaction, common objectives, and interests” (p. 44). Implicit participation, on the other hand, occurs on “a rather subliminal level,” when “users are participating—often without acknowledgement from the companies offering such services—in shaping and expanding the information infrastructure” (p. 44). In his review of Schaefer’s work, Carpentier (2012) argues that the consideration of implicit engagement as a form of participation is problematic, because it makes it difficult to determine the limits of participation, or the instances in which participation stops being participation. Moreover, such a conception might de-emphasize the sociocultural meaningfulness of participation, especially in terms of agency, empowerment, and efficacy.

This potential de-emphasis would partly be due to the fact that implicit participation does not carry the same positive connotations that explicit participation does. Indeed, implicit participation has often been framed as free labor or exploitation (Andrejevic, 2009; Fish and Srinivasan, 2012; Terranova, 2000). However, an interesting question is whether these implicit participants are in fact oblivious regarding the moneymaking value of their clicks, hits, and likes. Banks and Deuze (2009) note that scholars writing in the legacy of Terranova often position participants as unaware that their participation is an economically valuable practice; according to the authors, this approach is patronizing and often untrue.

Strengths and opportunities

As even this brief theoretical overview indicates, cultural studies scholars are well attuned to the nuances of participation, and have had a particularly fruitful investigation of the lower limits of engagement. In art, especially, participation is still very much a blanket term; art scholars would be well served by a more refined investigation of the various degrees and types of engagement. For instance, the mere attendance at cultural events or museums is conceptualized as participation (Jenkins and Bertozzi (2007) represents a notable exception). Or, in the realm of digital art, projects that rely on implicit participation are regularly being described as “participatory” or “crowdsourced,” when in fact they are not. For example, Jonathan Harris’ project We Feel Fine uses innovative data visualization techniques to display the “feelings” of bloggers across the world: it crawls the web, looking for instances of the word feel/feeling/felt and so on, and then displays these feelings and makes them searchable by location, gender, type of emotion, and even local weather. This is not a crowdsourced nor participatory project, as it has often been described in the media, because the bloggers in question are not deliberately participating; rather, it should be seen as data mining, made beautiful with the aid of information visualization techniques. More than a semantic idiosyncrasy, the notion of participation as attendance or data mining prevents the development of a more productive and nuanced dialog regarding the various types of participatory opportunities available, particularly in regard to collaboration and content-related participation.

Another lesson to be learned from the cultural studies scholarship on participation is the need to pay closer attention to the role of technology vis-à-vis participation. This necessarily includes a more objective examination of the positive rhetoric surrounding technology as an emancipatory and equalizing factor in the facilitation of more widespread participation. Such rhetoric is particularly—and dangerously—prominent in the educational field, where media tools and technologies are often overemphasized as agents of change, at the expense of technology-agnostic skills and cultural competencies. The recent initiative by the Los Angeles Unified School District (LAUSD) to provide iPads to every student in all Los Angeles schools, which turned into a complete fiasco and was abandoned shortly thereafter (Lapowsky, 2015), should be a cautionary tale in this regard.

Finally, the literature from cultural studies models a more collective conceptualization of participation, which other fields could benefit from. In art, for instance, the locus of empowerment and agency is most often identified at the individual level. Perhaps, this is because art is comparatively a more intimate experience, and there is an inherent individualism embedded in both the process of artistic production (the paradigm of the artist as a lone genius) and reception (the paradigm of the viewer silently contemplating the work of art, almost as if in a vacuum). Such an understanding of participation can, therefore, be highly enhanced by a focus on the collective dimensions of participatory cultures, as illustrated particularly by Jenkins’ (2014) work.

Definitions and key debates ²

Within the fields of art history and criticism, participation is understood most often through the prism of relational aesthetics. In what is considered to be one of the defining texts of contemporary art criticism, Bourriaud (2002 [1998]) introduced the concept of relational aesthetics as an artistic form that values the social above the material. He defines relational art as “an art that takes as its theoretical horizon the sphere of human interactions and its social context, rather than the assertion of an independent and private symbolic space” (p. 14). In other words, the artist functions as the facilitator of a social experience rather than as the creator of a tangible object. It is important to note that relational art, in Bourriaud’s original formulation, refers to interpersonal, embodied, and face-to-face interactions, and does not account for online participation. In view of the proliferation of online participatory art, recent research (Literat, 2012) has built upon the concept of relational aesthetics in relation to digital art as well; thus, if Bourriaud views relational art as rooted in the sphere of human relations, crowdsourced art, as the online counterpart of participatory art, refers to the sphere of human relations as mediated by technology.

Bishop (2006b) notes the divisiveness of participatory art among contemporary critics, claiming that there is a “present-day standoff between the nonbelievers (aesthetes who reject this work as marginal, misguided, and lacking artistic interest of any kind) and the believers (activists who reject aesthetic questions as synonymous with cultural hierarchy and the market)” (p. 181). In an interesting testament to these tensions, she enumerates the wide variety of terms used to describe the participatory impetus identified in recent art: such projects are interchangeably dubbed “socially engaged art, community-based art, experimental communities, dialogic art, littoral art, participatory, interventionist, research-based, or collaborative art” (p. 180). Although the concept of relational aesthetics is used almost universally when discussing such works, Bishop remarks that the artists themselves are less interested in the aesthetic aspect than in the creative rewards that come from opening up the artistic process: in its purest form, the aim of participatory art is to “collapse the distinction between performer and audience, professional and amateur, production and reception” (Bishop, 2006a: 10).

With a more cynical eye, Beech (2008) suggests that the participation of non-artists in the production of artwork does not actually challenge the cultural distinctions between artist and audience; rather, it merely “re-enacts that relationship in an ethnographic fashion” (p. 2). This tension is a crucial aspect of participation in online art. For instance, in Aaron Koblin’s Sheep Market, one of the best known online participatory art projects, the artist paid workers on Amazon’s Mechanical Turk platform 2 cents for drawing a sheep, thus aggregating 10,000 examples of user-drawn sheep (which were then sold as limited edition prints for $20 each). The participants were not aware of the scope or purpose of the project and had no creative agency; in a sense, the joke was on them, as they themselves were cast as sheep blindly following instructions for a couple of cents. Thus, to illustrate Beech’s argument, the hierarchy of the art world remained undisturbed: the artist was still the artist, and the participants were not empowered to become artists themselves, since their participation was quintessentially limited, pre-determined, and non-transparent.

Degrees of participation

Beech (2008) makes the excellent argument—as illustrated by the above example as well—that participation in art is most often very limited: entering a participatory art project is akin to accepting the parameters of a contract that one cannot modify, critique, or subvert. Research on participatory art in online contexts supports this view, highlighting the consequential distinction between participation and collaboration in terms of the ability to affect conceptual or structural change (Literat, 2012). Participatory art online presents choices of action and engagement, but when the design of the project is pre-established by the project initiator (the so-called “alpha artist”) prior to any public involvement, potential contributors are not given the prerogative to exercise structural agency. Thus, a key conclusion that emerged from this research is that participation should not be used as a blanket term; rather, I suggested a more nuanced model of understanding the various levels of engagement, which implies a breakdown of this concept into receptive, executory, and structural modes of participation (Literat, 2012). Receptive participation refers to the process, whereby the viewer or audience receives a finished artistic product. Executory participation is the task-based participation in a pre-designed artistic project: it is analogous to entering a contract whereby the contributor accepts the parameters of participation, but has no power to challenge or modify these parameters. Finally, with structural participation, participants have a say in the conceptual and artistic design of the project; in other words, they are allowed to demonstrate structural agency.

Strengths and opportunities

Traditionally, art is understood and written about in terms of the interplay between form and content; ³ this aesthetic bifurcation between form and content could be a valuable mode of inquiry when considering the participatory opportunities that art can facilitate. Specifically, a conceptualization of form versus content in regards to participation in other domains would allow for a more nuanced interrogation of participatory opportunities, by attempting to locate them along both of these dimensions. Scholars writing about participation should thus evaluate both the quality of the process (form) of participation and the quality of the final product (content) of participation. Indeed, a focus on quality is often missing in discussions of participation in other domains. The quality of the consensus arising from participatory political processes is rarely questioned (and indeed, can be difficult to operationalize); the quality of a piece of fan fiction is rarely investigated, with scholarly and popular accounts often focusing on the best and most impressive of these cases.

In fact, as several scholars note, one of the principal problems with the discourses on participation is that it is almost always seen as a positive and empowering force (Carpentier, 2009; Fish et al., 2011; Jenkins and Carpentier, 2013; Kelty, 2012; Schaefer, 2011). This notion appears in the art world as well, but, given the unique aesthetic prerogative of the arts, issues of aesthetic quality and, increasingly, of participatory ethics, are adamantly brought to the fore (Bishop, 2004; Foster, 2006). Indeed, critics are calling for the development of aesthetic criteria by which to judge socially engaged art (Bishop, 2006b; Kester, 2004, 2011). There is an acute awareness that the task of aesthetic evaluation has often been overshadowed—or, in same cases, rendered insignificant—by the emphasis on the political goals of such art, in the form of de-alienation, community-building, and the restoration of social bonds. I believe that a similar awareness in other participatory domains, and a meticulous qualitative examination of both form and content (separately and together) can help participation scholars arrive at conclusions that are more nuanced, more grounded, and ultimately more pragmatic.

Last but not least, the arts can provide a blueprint for alternative ways to enable participation, while reflecting the civic and creative benefits that such models can facilitate. Artists can take risks in a way that political organizations, media corporations or, educational institutions cannot. In political systems, constraints to participation are relatively stable and often difficult to challenge (Dahlgren, 2011). In media cultures, commercial interests often keep participation at bay and deliberately oppose change and (r)evolution (Jenkins et al., 2013). In education, institutional pressures, limited resources, and formalized requirements for instruction and evaluation make systemic change difficult to attain. In art, by comparison, change is not only possible, but indeed, it represents a desirable feature of the system: art is made to be challenged, questioned, and reinvented. In art, change is applauded as a revitalizing force—and, significantly, this revitalization is increasingly framed in terms of opportunities for participation and collaboration.

Definitions and key debates

The investigation of the relationship between participation and learning has been a crucial concern for educational theorists over the years, as evidenced most brilliantly in the critical literacy treatises of Paulo Freire (2005 [1970]) and Augusto Boal (1985), Piaget and Inhelder’s (1958) notions of active learning, Vygotsky’s (1978) work on social constructivism, Papert’s (1980) constructionist learning theory, or Kolb’s (1984) work on experiential learning, to name just a few. In recent years, important work in this area has come out of the Digital Media and Learning (DML) research community, whose members have sought to better understand the evolution of learning practices in the age of new media.

Participatory learning, as a pedagogical model, re-envisions traditional education as a non-hierarchical and participatory process, wherein learners work together to develop conventional academic knowledge alongside newer networked knowledge. It is based on five core principles: creativity, co-learning, motivation and engagement, relevance, and the reliance on a learning ecosystem that draws rich connections between home, school, community, and world (Reilly et al., 2012). Participatory learning harnesses the power of four key types of activity—the so-called “4 C’s”: creating, circulating, collaborating, and connecting—and encourages the deployment of NMLs, which are understood as a set of cultural competencies and social skills young people need, in order to participate fully and meaningfully in today’s world, thus shifting “the focus of literacy from one of individual expression to community involvement” (Jenkins et al., 2006: 4). Significantly, participatory learning involves taking an ecological approach to education, where connections are made between technology use, individuals, communities, and the social and cultural activities they engage in.

Although it is often experienced by way of engaging with media technologies and digital practices, it is nonetheless important to clarify that participatory learning—as a pedagogical and conceptual framework—extends beyond tools and resources. Rather, at the core of participatory learning is the reconceptualization of education as an open, non-hierarchical, collaborative, and empowering process. This perspective echoes Freire’s work on dialogic pedagogy, which has been a crucial influence for scholars thinking about participatory learning. Freire rejected the notion of students as passive recipients of knowledge—a perspective he called the “banking” concept of education—in favor of a bidirectional and anti-hierarchical model, where “the teacher is no longer merely the-one-who-teaches, but one who is himself taught in dialog with the students, who in turn while being taught also teach” (Freire, 2005 [1970], p.61). Importantly, a participatory learning system invites learners to become part of a community, which includes all members of the learning environment: students, teachers, administrators, parents, and any other relevant groups. Learning then becomes a “negotiation and collaboration” between these participants (John-Steiner and Mahn, 1996: 197), where different perspectives are valued, and knowledge is applied in contexts of personal relevance.

Degrees of participation

In comparison with other domains and disciplines, in the realm of education, less attention is devoted to the levels or degrees of participation. Rather than a level-based conceptualization, participatory learning is most often talked about in contrast to static, hierarchical, one-way, and non-participatory models, such as the banking model that Freire referred to. Indeed, even in Freire’s (2005 [1970]) view, a participatory concept of education is described as a contrast-based model: “education as the practice of freedom—as opposed to education as the practice of domination” (p. 81).

Furthermore, in line with the focus on personal relevance and student-centered learning, researchers in this field recognize that different learners engage to various degrees, according to their own participation styles and personal approaches to learning. Therefore, the most productive attempts to quantify learners’ engagement in participatory learning environments would have to be contextual—often, as part of program evaluation efforts—and less suitable for generalized assessment. In order to assess the depth of engagement, researchers often look at certain practices that are symptomatic of participatory learning. For instance, how much do learners engage in the four key practices of participation: creating, circulating, collaborating, and connecting (Reilly et al., 2012)? Or, how much do learners apply the NMLs (Literat, 2014)?

Based on extensive qualitative research with youth, Ito et al. (2009) suggest another helpful way to conceptualize the different genres of participation in regards to both expertise and intensity of engagement in the context DML. They divide youth experiences into three categories or modes of participation: “hanging out” (peer-driven social engagement), “messing around” (experimenting and tinkering with media and technology), and “geeking out” (delving deeper into subjects of interest and often forming communities around these interests). The notion of “participation genres” is valuable not only as a more nuanced way to think of engagement with DML, but also because it enables a more relational view of young people’s cultural practices (Ito et al., 2009).

Strengths and opportunities

A key strength of the work on participation coming from the field of education is the embrace of an ecological approach, which conceptualizes the participant as part of “an overall technical, social, cultural, and place-based system, in which the components are not decomposable or separable” (Horst et al., 2010: 31). Thus, rather than limiting the scope of inquiry to one central area of activity—for example, classroom participation—participants’ practices are situated within these larger ecosystems and are quintessentially interrelated with the sociocultural and technological contexts in which the practices takes place. Taking a more ecological view can therefore identify important relational processes that often influence the nature and strength of participatory practices.

Related to this ecological view, another significant strength of the education-based perspective on participation is the inclusion of informal spaces—both online or offline—as crucial sites of participatory activity (Gee, 2004; Jenkins et al., 2006). Educational scholars have argued that informal learning systems—which Gee (2004) calls “affinity spaces”—can represent ideal environments for participatory learning, because they encourage deep engagement and interest-based inquiry, while providing mentorship opportunities that scaffold learning and participation. Thus, learners’ interest-driven experiences—as practiced in informal or affinity spaces—can inform best practices in formal learning environments as well, while, on the other hand, the more formal knowledge gained in classroom contexts can enrich participants’ experience in informal spaces, as they apply this knowledge to their interest-driven pursuits. In this sense, participation in informal domains of activity is seen as educative—in the same way that Pateman (1970) argued for the educative potential of participatory politics outside of the formal political realm.