Remixing the nature of authorship

This is one of a series of blog posts that will appear here in the coming weeks, reflecting on aspects of the 2016 manifesto for teaching online. This post originally appeared at


One of the most attention-grabbing propositions within the original 2011 Manifesto was that digital environments offered new ways of constructing and sharing academic knowledge and content. Text was being toppled, we were told, and there were many ways of getting it right.

It was perhaps with these ideas in mind that I was invited to prepare a short video to support the dissemination of the Manifesto. I responded with a rolling montage of images where the text of each Manifesto statement sat juxtaposed against a photograph and sound. I revisited and revised the video in 2013 with a closer attention to how visual and aural content better align with the messages that I felt the Manifesto text was trying to convey.

Four years down the line it has been fascinating to contribute towards the most recent reinvention of the wider Manifesto. With an eye and ear to my own research (which investigates the potential for multimodal assessment within digital environments) I’m glad that the idea of scholarly remixing features prominently – loudly! – in this new Manifesto.

Remixing digital content redefines authorship
One of the things that I like about the Manifesto is its intention to provoke discussion rather than dictate a set of hard-and-fast rules: we are encouraged to approach and interpret the statements in our own way. Here then is my own take on the ‘Remixing’ statement.
The increasingly varied amount of digitally-mediated content enables us to construct knowledge in new and exciting ways. At the same time we have access to a growing array of devices and other technologies that allow us to convey or re-shape what we draw from this growing body of digital content. The output that emerges calls for us to reflect on what we understand by ‘authorship’ and ‘composition’ of scholarly work. To
illustrate my point in a very basic way I’ve created this (very basic) animation (turn volume up now).

So, thinking about my intepretation of the ‘Remixing’ statement in the manifesto: the digital content that I drew on features audio taken from two web-hosted video clips. First we have a short excerpt from a seminar discussion on the subject of the ‘digital city’ featuring the voice of Mathias Fuchs from Leuphana University. The fact that Fuchs discusses Second Life, one of the teaching spaces used within the MSc in Digital Education (from where the Manifesto for Teaching Online originated), is apt. This is followed by a similar short oral fragment featuring Kathleen Fitzpatrick, taken from a lecture she delivered on the subject of digital authorship, at Duke University. And then repeat 4 times. The music track is ‘Scratched’ by Etienne De Crecy. Listen carefully and you’ll also hear the sound of needle static, previously downloaded from a sound effects archive and unearthed from my iTunes library. Meanwhile the digital devices and technologies that I used to put the animation together included my computer, an iPhone for the lazy recording of sound from the video clips, and software in the form of PowerPoint, Photoshop and SoundStudio.

Perhaps more interesting than the animation itself is the questions that it asks about the way that the scholarly remix problematises conventional understandings of composition and authorship. For instance, how much of the animation is really my work? If there’s any merit in the animation, how much of it is attributable to the technology? Is it ethical for me to have taken Mathias Fuchs’ voice out of context? How would Kathleen Fitzpatrick feel about my manipulation of her voice with extra reverb? How do we ‘read meaning from text’ when it is only one part of multimodal orchestration of content? And, as Fitzpatrick points out herself (2011), how does this type of ‘mash up’ sit alongside institutional guidelines surrounding plagiarism?

In the discussion-provoking spirit of the Manifesto for Teaching Online I won’t attempt to answer these questions, however with an anxious eye towards the uncertainty surrounding plagiarism, I will include a reference list.

Openness and the new manifesto

This is one of a series of blog posts that will appear here in the coming weeks, reflecting on aspects of the 2016 manifesto for teaching online.

Closed online spaces limit the educational power of the network. (2011 manifesto)

Online spaces can be permeable and flexible, letting networks and flows replace boundaries. (2011 manifesto)

Openness is neither neutral nor natural: it creates and depends on closures. (2015 manifesto)

The manifesto’s treatment of openness is one of the biggest shifts between the first and second versions – and it’s been noticed and commented on by a number of people already, including Jenny Mackness in her recent post. In 2011, MOOCs hadn’t yet emerged on the scene, and a primary mode for online education – despite many years of engagement with the idea of open educational resources – was to be closed off from the wider web, corralling students and teachers into ostensibly ‘safe’ spaces designed for educational purposes (Bayne 2004).

Discourses of digital education are far more likely now to draw on ideals of openness than of closure or constraint. However, these often lack criticality, assuming that openness is inevitably empowering, and will inevitably disrupt and improve education (Bayne, Knox and Ross 2015).

Openness itself is not often critically interrogated as a term, being taken, problematically, to mean ‘access alone’ (Knox 2013). Richard Edwards (2015) argues that ‘all forms of openness entail forms of closed-ness’ (p.253) and that educators must move away from ‘pursuing openness per se as a worthwhile educational goal’ and instead decide ‘what forms of openness and closed-ness are justifiable’ (p.255).

Martin Weller (2014) suggests that this issue may in fact only really be able to surface now that what he terms the ‘battle’ for openness in education has been won: ‘when it was simply open vs. closed there was a clear distinction: Openness was good, closed was bad. As the victory bells sound, though, it doesn’t take much examination to reveal that it has become a more complex picture’ (p.21). He attributes this in part to the adversarial framing of openness (p.153), which has generated a series of binary positions which are, at best, oversimplified and misleading.

So, a tension between openness and closure is expressed in the manifesto as a reminder that openness is not neutral, and that educators need to be cautious about embracing promises of openness without exploring the closures that will come along with it. This is a practical as well as a theoretical consideration: we have to understand that there are tradeoffs when, for example, we ask students to work openly on the public web (as we have done since 2009 in our Education and Digital Cultures course), in terms of how frank students can be about how the concepts they are learning about intersect with their professional practice. This is part of the reason why our introductory MSc Digital Education course, while it involves students in extended blog activities over the whole semester, does so in a relatively ‘closed’ space of one-to-one student-tutor discussion. We need to approach openness in different ways at different times.

I’ll be talking about some of these issues with Amy Collier at the OpenEd conference in Vancouver in November. I also strongly recommend the recent special issue of Learning, Media and Technology (edited by Sian, Jeremy and me). And really any of Jeremy’s work and writing!

(this post is based on a paper under submission to the Networked Learning 2016 conference, by Sian Bayne and Jen Ross)


Bayne, S., 2004. Smoothness and Striation in Digital Learning Spaces. E-learning, 1(2).

Bayne, S., Knox, J. and Ross, J. (2015) Open Education: the need for a critical approach. Learning, Media and Technology, 40(3), 247-250.

Edwards, R., 2015. Knowledge infrastructures and the inscrutability of openness in education. Learning, Media and Technology, 40(3), pp.251–264.

Knox, J. (2013). The Limitations of Access Alone: moving towards open processes in education. Open Praxis. 5(1). pp. 21-29.

Weller, M., 2014. The Battle For Open: How openness won and why it doesn’t feel like victory, London: Ubiquity Press. Available at: .

Manifesto for Teaching Online, 2016

online can be the privileged mode
Online can be the privileged mode: image made by James Lamb

The new manifesto is here! First written in 2011, the manifesto has been an important touchstone for the work of the Digital Education team at the University of Edinburgh, andan excellent source of discussion and debate with students, colleagues, and professionals in the field. It was always intended to be interpretable, and it was made open so that others could remix and rewrite it. This year we decided it was time to revisit and reassemble the manifesto ourselves. While we are still working on formats and visualisations, we wanted to share the text of our new manifesto. We would love your comments!

Many of the preoccupations of the 2011 manifesto remain foregrounded in the 2016 version, including assessment, context, contact, multimodality, aesthetics, openness and closure, power, and surveillance. A few statements have remained as they were, and many are similar but have changed to take account of new concerns, or to attempt better to articulate core ideas. Other statements are completely new, taking up matters of instrumentalism, materiality, scale, authorship, algorithms and automation.

Here are the statements from the 2011 manifesto (left), and the 2016 manifesto (right), shown side-by-side. Changes between the two are underlined on the right.

Manifesto for Teaching Online statements from 2011 and 2015
Manifesto for Teaching Online statements from 2011 and 2016