The Role of Interests and Agency in the Pursuit of Human Resource
Development: Some lessons from the past.
Dr Denise Thursfield
Leeds Business School
Leeds Metropolitan University
Beckett Park
Leeds
LS6 3QS
Tel: 0113 2837549
Fax: 0113 2833206
Email: d.thursfield@lmu.ac.uk
John Hamblett
Leeds Business School
Leeds Metropolitan University
Beckett Park
Leeds
LS6 3QS
Tel: 0113 2837549
Fax: 0113 2833206
Email: j.hamblett@lmu.ac.uk
Refereed Track
Introduction
The Problem
The benefits of human resource development, at the societal and organisational levels,
are undisputed in much of the discourse on economic competitiveness (for example,
DfEE 1998, Fryer 1997, Fryer 1999). Rapid changes in the social and economic
fabric of society require a well-trained and well-educated workforce ready to
withstand the upheavals associated with the changing nature of work. Individuals who
engage in training and development will increase their employability and prospects
(Ibid). Government initiatives aimed at facilitating employee and workforce learning
have, however, displayed varying degrees of success. Particular problems associated
with such schemes are low levels of participation and the tendency of what we have
1
previously termed ‘skilled learners’ to secure any available funding (Thursfield and
Hamblett 2001, Thursfield, Smith, Holden and Hamblett 2002, unpublished
Workforce Development report 2002).
In this paper we want to argue that the major challenge for HRD policy at the societal
level in the 21st century is to engage those individuals and companies that do not
engage in learning and training, and whose need for development is possibly the most
pressing. In sum, our argument looks like this. We will say that an emergent feature of
recent HRD initiatives is a top down approach that places control in the hands of the
employer or government agency to the exclusion of participants. A significant
entailment of such an approach are learning and development intiaitives infused with
complexity and contradiction; intitiaitves that fail to engage those would-be
participants who have little or no experience of learning and development.
We seek to illuminate these shortcomings by contrasting such schemes with an early
20th century example of independent working class learning: that of the Labour
College Movement (LCM). The LCM was, for a short period of time, highly
successful in creating a thriving learning culture amongst working class adult
students. The aim of this paper is to examine the historical evidence pertaining to the
LCM in order to ascertain whether human resource development in the 21st century
can learn from the example set by these early protagonists of adult learning.
Our paper will be structured like this: First we outline our general theoretical
approach. A largely descriptive section detailing the findings of our historical data
collection and summarising the main points of our more recent primary research
follows this. We then go on to discuss these findings in terms of their implications for
2
HRD practice today and in the future. Finally, we offer some tentative suggestions as
to how these findings might be employed in the design of future HRD initiatives.
Some comments on theoretical issues
We have suggested that the orthodox approach to HRD, defined as the unquestioning
acceptance of a set of mutual benefits and shared interests between employer and
employee, and agreement over the functional nature of what passes for learning in
many HRD schemes, requires revision (Thursfield and Hamblett 2001, Hamblett and
Thursfield 2003 forthcoming). We have, furthermore, suggested that a historical
comparative approach can enable a better understanding of HRD now and in the
future (Hamblett and Thursfield 2003 forthcoming). The theoretical stance of this
paper is a continuation of themes articulated in our past work, and which as been
defined as belonging to a radical structuralist paradigm (McGoldrick, Stewart and
Watson 2001:3). We have argued that the prime objective of research should be to
further the ‘practical project of self-emancipation’ (Hamblett, Holden and Thursfield
2001:66) and that this project necessarily entails developing an understanding of the
‘conditions of human emancipation in work’ (Op-Cit:67). Thus, our research is
premised on the search for social justice and the eradication of the gulf between rich
and poor, and that a means of facilitating such an outcome is through learning.
Evidence from our empirical work suggests, however, that the form of learning
associated with current HRD practice cannot serve the purpose we have set out above
and discussed in our earlier work (Hamblett, Holden and Thursfield 2001). We will
attempt to show, in this paper, that in a capitalist system the mutuality of interests
between employer and employee cannot be assumed, and that conflict is a natural
state of affairs. There is, therefore, little point in attempting to graft a sense of
mutuality and shared interests onto a system that is structurally exploitative.
3
By exploring the evidence left by the LCM in their attempt to engender an
independent working class education we are able to see how mutuality and interests
do figure strongly in the development of learning amongst excluded groups. The
shared interests in question are, however, those that exist between individuals
occupying the same social circumstances and sharing the same life chances. It is this
variety of mutuality that can generate learning cultures rather than the imposed form
typified by the orthodox approach to HRD (Hamblett and Thursfield 2003
forthcoming).
Research Design and Methodology
Our empirical research employs a qualitative case study approach, and compares
secondary historical evidence with contemporary primary evidence. Secondary data
such as books, trade union documents and Plebs League journal editorials collected
from the Library of Working Class Movements, Salford, form the basis of the
historical case study. Primary data is drawn from research into three types of HRD
initiative: Evaluation of a number of Employee Development schemes (EDS,
hereafter; see, for example Hamblett and Holden 1998, Thursfield and Hamblett
2001); evaluation of Individual Learning Accounts (ILAs) at both the pilot and roll
out stage (Hamblett and Holden 1999, Thursfield, Smith, Holden and Hamblett 2001);
and evaluation of Workforce Development (WfD), introduced in 2002. The aim of our
overall approach is to draw out the salient features of each case study in order to learn
lessons from the past that may be used to assist our understanding of HRD today.
Present day case studies involved interviews with employers, employees and other
stakeholders such as TEC and LSC personnel.
4
Results
The Labour College Movement and Plebs league
The Plebs league and the Labour College movement grew out of earlier attempts by
working people to provide themselves with an education (National Council of Labour
Colleges 1924). The Workingmen’s College, London, founded 1854; Ruskin College,
Oxford, founded 1899 and the Workers Education Assiciation founded 1903 (Ibid.)
were all antecedents of the Plebs League. For the Plebs, however, these institutions
failed to provide a suitable education for working men due to the absence of a radical
philosophy and the assumption that education should stand above the conflict between
capital and labour (Ibid.). The philosophy of the LCM was rooted in the notion that
education for working people should confront and challenge class division and
inequality in society.
Our story begins in 1908 when a group of Ruskin College students who were unhappy
with the content of their course joined together to set up self-study groups based on
Marx’s Capital Vol. 1 (Craik 1964). Subsequent attempts to secure labour control of
Ruskin College met with failure and in October 1908 the Plebs League was set up to
fight for such control. In March 1909 the college authorities attempted to remove the
subject of sociology from the syllabus resulting in a strike by a number of students.
The scholarship of one particular student, George Sims, was withdrawn. The Plebs
response was, with the backing of trades unions such as the South Wales Miners
Federation and rail unions, to set up a Central Labour College to rival Ruskin (Ibid).
By the end of the First World War the labour College Movement had spread
throughout the industrial areas of the UK. In particular to South Wales, Scotland and
the Midlands (NCLC 1975).
5
The Plebs League and Labour College Movement exemplifies the idea of an
Independent Working class Education (IWCE) which is characterised by four core
themes. First, the need for a working class education that does not rely on the
patronage of wealthy benefactors. Second, an idealistic conceptualisation of education
is rejected in favour of a materialist approach. Third, education is inseparable from
the practice of politics. Finally, working class education, as conceived by the Plebs, is
based on the inseparability of labour and learning.
The deep desire for an education on the part of working class people in the 19th
century is well covered in the literature (for example, Ree 1984, Simon 1965). Radical
critics of 19th century education argued that the education offered to working class
students comprised of ‘useless knowledge’ (Johnson 1988). That is, knowledge that
served the interests of the capitalist class, and which taught servility rather than rights
and liberties (Ibid). It was, for example, envisaged by the founders of Ruskin that
working men should be taught utilitarian subjects that would prepare them for
industrial work, and that the classics as taught in the universities should be proscribed.
Students of Ruskin were to be prepared for citizenship, but were not to be allowed
access to Oxford University or to political power (Ree 1984).
A further concern to radical educationalists was that of how to improve the position of
the working class as a whole rather than elevate individuals out of their class position.
Social class thus became the focus for critiques of liberal interventions in working
class education. Ruskin College was criticised, for example, for its reliance on the
support of wealthy patrons who were assured of the practical nature of the education
provided to working class students (Craik 1964).
A third matter of concern was the division between ‘Philosophical Radicals’ and
Material Radicals. Material Radicals took issue with the idealistic stance of the
6
Philosophical Radicals that social injustice could be overcome through education.
Such a notion was linked to liberalism, and its outcome would be a liberal rather than
radical education that took no account of the material conditions of life experienced
by working class students. (Johnson 1979). Thus, the LCM and Plebs League rejected
the model of education provided by middle class liberals in favour of an education
provided by and for members of the working class. A related critique on the theme of
liberal forms of education is the impossibility of objectivity and neutrality in
education; education either supports the social order or provides the tools to challenge
it. Because society was (and is) characterised by structural inequality and injustice,
education based on ideas of objectivity will fail to address causes of inequality and
injustice.
In terms of the practicalities of the Labour College classes, again a number of
governing principles apply. First, Labour College classes were self-supporting with no
donations accepted from rich benefactors (Frow and Frow 1992). Second, Labour
College class tutors were themselves graduates of labour colleges. Middle class,
professional tutors were not employed. Third, classes were organised on democratic
principles with more advanced students taking responsibility for leading discussions.
Thus, the educational practice of the Plebs was
untainted by the influence of
liberalism and the ruling class. The subject matter of labour college classes included
Economics (taught on the basis of Marx’s Capital), Industrial History, Economic
Geography, Science of Understanding, Esperanto and Grammar.
The aims of the LCM were, we argue, twofold. To reveal the class identity of working
class students and to make this identity the subject of critical reflection and practical
development. Second, to advocate self-reliance in the struggle to expose the desired
transformation of society and the means by which this could be achieved. The
7
outcome of all this activity was to engender a strong and vibrant learning culture
based on recognition of mutuality and shared interests.
HRD Today
Recent attempts by the New Labour government to facilitate HRD through promotion
of learning cultures have their origin in the presumption of a shift from an industrial
or Fordist to post-industrial or post-Fordist world. Societies, organisations and
individuals must, if they are to withstand the effects of change, engage in HRD (for
example, DfEE 1998, Fryer 1997, Fryer 1999).
Initiatives to encourage a learning culture vary in terms of the control exercised by
employees and the nature and type of learning allowed. Our first example, EDS were
imported from the USA in the late 1980s and are characterised by an emphasis on the
development of the individual rather than work related training (Forrester, Payne and
Ward 1995), a degree of choice on the part of learners, the pre-eminence of
employees in the administration of the scheme, and voluntary participation in learning
activity. The employer or government agency provides the finance for education or
training chosen by the learner.
Mutuality is fundamental to EDS. For, a basic assumption definitive of all such
schemes is that whatever learning is undertaken by an employee will increase his or
her value to the employer, and equal benefit will accrue to both parties. The extent to
which these positive characteristics are present in reality is, however, contested. We
have, in our earlier work, and based on extensive research into EDS funded through
the now defunct Training and Enterprise Councils, questioned the extent of mutuality
and commonality of interests in such schemes.
Rather, EDS are on occasions
employed as a means of overcoming industrial unrest during periods of deteriorating
conditions of employment. (Thursfield and Hamblett 2001, Hamblett, Holden and
8
Thursfield 2001). Evidence suggests, furthermore, that some employers view EDS as
a means of appropriating government funding to finance work related training
(Thursfield and Hamblett 2001). In addition, the level of control over administrative
arrangements for EDS, and over what counts as legitimate learning is variable
(Holden, Smith, Thursfield and Hamblett, forthcoming 2003).
The contradictions intrinsic to EDS are reflected in take up rates and participant
characteristics. Take up by employees averages around 20%, and our research
suggests a preponderance of skilled learners. That is, individuals with a history of
engagement with formal learning. EDS is not, therefore, an effective vehicle through
which to encourage low skilled and qualified individuals in learning.
Our second example, ILAs, was introduced in 1998 (withdrawn in 2001 due to
evidence of fraud). ILAs were again administered by the TECs. The scheme involved
a £25 contribution from the individual account holder and a £150 contribution from
the TEC. The account holder took the decision over what course of learning to follow,
although within constraints imposed by the scheme. The underlying principles were
to engage those who had not, in the past, involved themselves in learning, and that
learning should increase the employability of the account holder. ILAs were, in
addition, to be vocational but not directly related to the individual’s current
occupation. These rather contradictory rules resulted in confusion over the type of
study allowed. It is questionable as to whether, for example, an academic qualification
that increases employability should be defined as vocational or non-vocational. Our
evidence also suggests that some companies applied for ILAs on behalf of their
workforce and, as with ED, used ILA funding to finance company specific training
(Thursfield, Smith, Holden and Hamblett 2001).
9
Take up of ILAs was high in comparison to EDS. Our TEC example exceeded targets
by 2.4% and 1,262 accounts were opened. Like EDS, however, the majority of
account holders (88%) were not from the low skilled group. 40% held NVQ level 3
qualifications or above and 75% had participated in organised learning in the previous
year.
Our final example, WfD, is a recent initiative administered by the Learning and Skills
Councils. The scheme is designed to facilitate an increase in training amongst firms
whose record of training is minimal. Companies can claim either 40% of costs or
£800 towards training. A further aim is to develop the role of a broker whose remit is
to assist firms to assess training needs and access training providers. The firm takes
sole responsibility for the decision over the type of training required, with little or no
involvement expected from the workforce. Evaluative research of one Workforce
Development pilot scheme carried out by the authors of this paper during the spring
and summer of 2002 suggests that the aims of the scheme were not, in this particular
example, achieved. The majority of firms accessing Workforce Development have a
history of training and developing their employees. More interestingly, many were
skilled in the art of drawing down government funding for training and development
(unpublished report to LSC).
Although the above schemes differ in emphasis, for example, on the involvement of
learners in deciding what should be learned, there are a number of similarities. A
definitive characteristic common to EDS and ILAs was that of individualism and
personal choice. The learner is responsible for deciding what to learn and how, and,
by implication, what counts as 'useful knowledge.' Related to this is the notion, rooted
in liberal ideas of education, that all learning is equally beneficial. This point is
10
particularly relevant in relation to EDS. The emphasis placed on the primacy of
employees in the practicalities of the scheme implies an attempt to shift control away
from the employer towards the individual learner. Similarly, ILAs were advertised as
an attempt to give individuals an opportunity to acquire the human capital needed to
ensure employability in an area chosen by the learner.
In theory, then, EDS and ILAs differed in crucial respects to the WfD initiative that
succeeded them. In practice, however, the former two schemes display strong
similarities to the latter. It could even be argued that the progression to WfD was
merely a means of formalising the emergent practical characteristics of EDS and
ILAs. Although individual choice was, in theory, a cornerstone of these initiatives,
fundamental decisions were often given over to the employer. In one particular firm
the TEC funded EDS was nothing more than IT training aimed at meeting the
business needs of the company. Employees were denied information on the nature of
EDS and were unable, therefore, to make an informed decision as to whether
participation was in their best interests (Thursfield and Hamblett 2001). A second
company, again utilising TEC funding, allowed for only Tai Chi or Italian classes.
The second activity was designed to assist the firms employees overcome stress at
work. The first was aimed at facilitating the firm's attempt to break into European
markets (Hamblett, Holden and Thursfield 2001). In sum, although some
organisations did implement EDS in the spirit in which they were intended (Ibid,
Holden et al forthcoming 2003), the opportunity to appropriate government funds for
job related training was too strong for some firms to resist.
The potential for the perversion of EDS in practice is comparable to that of ILAs. A
principle of ILAs was that individual account holders would, within certain
constraints, choose their own learning path, and that learning should not be related to
11
current job. However, evidence again reveals a willingness on the part of employers
to misappropriate ILA monies to supplement training budgets. Thus, in our earlier
evaluation of ILAs we show how the business director of one particular firm viewed
ILAs as a tool to help the firm finance training (Thursfield et al 2001). We also
describe how a second firm perceived ILAs as a government initiative to help them
fund firm specific training needs. This company went so far as to apply for ILAs on
behalf of their workforce, thus denying them the opportunity to choose their own
learning path.
It is argued, then, that in each of the three schemes discussed, rhetoric runs contrary to
reality. This insofar as each scheme diminishes, to varying degrees, an individual's
choice over what they learn and how they learn. Further, and relatedly, although
liberal notions of the universally beneficial character of all learning is used as an
article of faith and justification, in the above examples only learning that is of direct
benefit to the companies is deemed to be useful. In sum, EDS, ILAs and WfD display
characteristics which, in practice, constrain individualism, choice and control on the
part of the learner. These modern attempts at HRD differ fundamentally from the
model of learning exemplified by the Labour college Movement and our aim now is
to elaborate on these differences in order to inform future practice.
Discussion
Interests and Agency and the Implications for HRD in the 21st Century
Mainstream approaches to adult learning and HRD presuppose a set of shared
interests, whether between the employer and employee or between employer,
employee and society. Thus, an employee who rejects an opportunity for skills and
personal development is deemed to be acting irrationally. As Keep and Mayhew
(1999) argue, however, emphasising individual responsibility for training fails to take
12
account of discrimination in the workplace. Discrimination that can distort the
possible rewards of engagement available to certain groups. We have argued
previously that the foundation for individual blame rests upon an inadequate analysis
of the complex and conflictual relationship between capital and labour (Thursfield
and Hamblett 2001). To understand why the mainstream approaches to HRD
described earlier sometimes fail, in general terms, to capture the imagination of
employees requires consideration of the concepts 'interests' and 'agency'. In particular,
the articulation of interests and agency within given social and economic structures.
Our definition of interests is taken directly from the work of Callinicos (1989).
Interests presume wants, but the concept of interest concerns not the wants as
such, but the possible modes of their realization in given sets of
circumstances; and these can be determined as “objectively” as anything in
social analysis. Secondly, these modes of realization will depend crucially on
agents’ structural capacities, that is, on the powers they derive from their
position in the relations of production. A worker and a capitalist will have very
different ways open to them of realizing their respective wants […] Agents
may have different wants, but their ability to realize them will depend on their
shared position in the relations of production. Only persons have interests, but
they will share them with others in the same class position. Finally, and
following on from this last point, agents interests are likely to conflict, since
their different positions in the relations of production mean that they can only
realize their wants by pursuing courses of action which cause them to clash. A
capitalist, so long as he remains a capitalist, can only realize his wants by
exploiting workers, while the latter’s realization of their wants is likely to
depend on collective organization against him (Op-cit.:129).
13
In short, interests are realised when, and only when, agents join together to recognise
their shared wants and take steps, within the constraints of circumstances, to bring
about their effectuation. What is needed is a shift from passivity to conscious activity.
Or, in the terminology of Archer (2002), from primary to corporate agency. Agents
are, according to Archer, necessarily agents of something; that is, ‘agents of the sociocultural system into which they are born (Op-cit.: 262). Primary agency is a property
acquired by all humans at the outset of life:
Thus, humanity enters society through the maternity ward doors and we
immediately acquire the properties of Primary Agents through belonging to
particular collectivities and sharing their privileges or lack of them – as
males/females; blacks/whites; foreigners/indigenous; middle class/working
class (Archer 2002: 262).
In order for powerless collectivities (in contrast to individuals who break free of their
collectivities) to overcome their underprivileged status they must develop the means
of collective action. They must acquire for themselves the status of corporate agents.
thus:
Its (corporate agency) typical powers are capacities for articulating shared
interests, organising for collective action, generating social movements and
exercising corporate influence in decision making. Corporate Agents act
together and interact with other agents and they do so strategically, that is in a
manner that cannot be construed as the summation of individuals’ self-interest.
To talk of strategic action implies that Corporate Agents are ‘active’ rather
than ‘passive’, that is they are social subjects with reasons for attempting to
14
bring about certain outcomes, rather than objects to whom things happen (OpCit.:266).
It may appear, at this stage, that we are straying too far from our stated concern; that
being to develop an understanding of how HRD might be progressed today in the
context of an historical analysis of the LCM and Plebs league. We want to say,
however, that the above deliberations take us to the heart of our argument. For the
Plebs achievement in the educational arena was critical to the transformation from
Primary Agents to Corporate Agents. This transformation occurred as a result of the
Plebs recognition and pursual of shared interests through the medium of education.
These shared interests of working class people converged, for the Plebs, around the
aim of advancing the interests of the working class as a class. Eradication of
structured inequalities and poverty would be possible when the working class
developed a class consciousness:
What the wage-labourers, above all, require is a consciousness that they are a
class, that, as a class, they have to face a common or general problem, and
that, as a class, they alone can furnish the general solution. Generalisation is
the nature of conscious (‘The Pebs’ 1913:1)
The means of engendering this consciousness was that of education and the Plebs’
view that the interests of working people could be advanced through education was
premised on the idea of a radical education based on a materialist ontology. Liberal
forms of education that failed to confront material inequalities could not serve the
interests of working people. The role of education as a means of furthering the
working class cause was also suffused with notions of what constitutes useful
knowledge. For liberal leaning educationalists any knowledge is valuable.
15
To them (liberal educationalists) education is something that stands above the
continual struggle that goes on between Co-operatives and Capitalist stores,
between Trade Unions and Employers Federations […] Moreover, they are, on
the whole, quite unaware that the ‘orthodox’ education in any class system of
society is bound to be an education that in bulk coincides within the needs of
the governing class; for economic and political control involve educational
control (NCLC 1924 education for emancipation pg4)
Topics taught in Labour College classes aimed, therefore, to illuminate the shared
interests of working class students. To achieve the independence required to
propagate useful knowledge, the Plebs adopted the stance on funding described
earlier in the paper; classes were self-funded or funded by trades unions and wealthy
benefactors were scorned.
A final point relating to the recognition of shared interests concerns the interlinkages
between the various corporate agents attempting to further working class interests.
The Labour College Movement and Plebs League was supported, financially, by
trades unions, specifically by the South Wales Miners Federation and the National
Union of Railwaymen (from 1913 onwards) (NCLC Annual Report South East
Lancashire Area council). Support also came from the Gasworkers (Ibid) and the
amalgamated Union of Building Trade Workers (AUBTW 1922).
The learning culture created by the Plebs is in sharp contrast to the modern day HRD
programmes described above. Whereas the Plebs League was democratic and
emergent from recognition of shared wants, modern day HRD interventions such as
EDS, ILAs and Workforce Development are externally conceptualised (both in terms
of content and delivery) forms of learning imposed on a hierarchical set of workplace
relations. Useful knowledge is defined in terms of narrow, job related, vocational
16
competencies. Even where, as with EDS and ILAs, an attempt at a liberal form of
education is made, in practice the learning allowed is the practical know-how for
specific occupations or jobs. We could even venture a suggestion that this approach to
adult learning owes much to the predecessors of the Plebs League described in an
earlier section. A further fundamental difference between the LCM and present day
HRD concerns the issue of control. Whereas the Plebs were independent and able to
decide for themselves what and how they learned, the modern day schemes described
in this paper offer a prescribed and restricted form of learning. Learning that is
designed, in general, for the (perceived) benefit of employers rather than employees.
These points are reflected in take up rates and participant characteristics. Either EDS
or ILAs are popular amongst low-skilled non-traditional learners.
We should make it clear at this stage that we are not suggesting that a resurgence of a
group such as the Plebs League would have impact on current HRD practice. The
Plebs were located in a particular temporal, social and economic environment.
Developments in the employment structure associated with the alleged shift from
Industrial to Post-Industrial society (for example Amin 1992, Kumar 1995) have
resulted in the decline of traditional industries and, therefore, the number of
individuals belonging to the industrial working class. Such an economic and social
climate is, so the argument might proceed, unlikely to facilitate the emergence of a
group of Corporate Agents whose aim is to transform society for the benefit of the
working class through education.
This notion of a decline of the working class is not, however, left unchallenged.
Beynon (1992), for example, argues that whilst traditional industries such as coal
mining, steel and manufacturing are in decline; the types of occupation, for example
fast food restaurants and call centres, replacing them are similarly unpleasant.
17
Bradley, Erickson, Stephenson and Williams (2000) argue that working class
identities and adversarial relations between employers and employees remain a
feature of working life today. It could be argued, then, that the notion of shared
interests remains salient in the search for HRD interventions on a societal level. What
is needed, however, is a shift away from the attempt to portray externally imposed
learning as somehow offering mutual benefits to the employer and employee. As
Forrester et al (1995) argue, there is a propensity for a negative experience at work to
impinge upon individuals’ experience of EDS. Subjects such as Tai chi, Italian and
computing may be beneficial in terms of vocational training, but offer little in the way
of personal development and the meeting of employees’ needs. It is possible that
recognition of shared interests by working class employees serves to restrain rather
than facilitate HRD.
Conclusion
We argue, in conclusion, that the lessons learned from history suggest the need for a
new approach to HRD at the societal and organisational levels. In order to facilitate
learning on the part of those previously unengaged, the benefits of engagement should
be observable, salient to the material conditions of workplace life and, therefore, be
meaningful to participants. Workplace discrimination on the grounds of gender, class
or age will identified by Keep and Mayhew will serve to thwart this outcome. Such an
outcome cannot, furthermore, be achieved without a recognition by prospective
learners of the shared interests between themselves and others living and working
under the same circumstances. Attempts by employers and governments to conceal
these shared interests, and to promote the notion of mutuality between capital and
labour have been shown to be unsuccessful in practice. In short, what is needed is a
shift from primary agency to corporate agency by employees and the development of
18
a learning culture emergent from a recognition of shared interests. Whilst it must be
recognised that the experience of the LCM cannot be transposed to today’s economic
and social environment, there remains
in place a section of society for whom
individual advancement has not taken place and for whom orthodox approaches to
HRD are meaningless.
References
Amin, A. (1994), (ed), Post-Fordism: A Reader, Blackwell, Oxford.
Archer, M. (2002), Being Human, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.
AUBTW (1922) Amalgamated Union of Building Trades Workers
Beynon, H. (1992), ‘The end of the industrial worker’ in Abercrombie, N. and Warde,
A. (eds), Social change in Contemporary Britain, Polity Press, Cambridge.
Bradley, H., Erickson, M., Stephenson, C. and Williams, S. (2000), Myths at Work,
Polity Press, Cambridge.
Callinicos, A. (1989) Making History: Agency, Structure and Change in Social
Theory, Cornell University Press, New York.
Craik, W, W. (1964), Central labour college 1909 – 1925, Lawrence and Wishart,
London.
Department for Education and Employment (1998), The learning Age: a renaissance
for a new Britain, HMSO.
Forrester, K., Payne, J. and Ward, K. (1995), Workplace Learning, Avebury,
Aldershot.
Frow, E. and Frow, R. (1992), ‘The Spark of Independent Working Class Education:
Lancashire 1909 – 1930’ in Simon, B. (ed), The Search for Enlightenment: Working
19
Class and Adult Education in the Twentieth Century, National Institute of Adult
Continuing Education, Leicester.
Fryer, R, H. (1997), Learning for the Twenty-first Century: First report of the
national advisory group for Continuing Education and Lifelong Learning.
Fryer, R, H. (1999), Creating Learning cultures: Next Steps in Achieving the Learning
Age.
Hamblett, J. and Thursfield, D. (forthcoming 2003) 'Other Voices:
A short case for the development of an historical dimension to the study of workplace
and lifelong learning'. HRDI
Hamblett, J. and Holden, R. (1998) ‘To boldly go? Questioning orthodox accounts of
employee development’, Human Resource Development International, Vol. 1., No. 2.,
pp.149-70.
Hamblett, J. and Holden, R. (1999) 'Sustained Learning for Responsible Citizens? A
Research Note on Individual Larning Accounts', HRDI.
Hamblett, J., Holden, R. and Thursfield, D. (2001), ‘The Tools of Freedom and the
Sources of Indignity’ in McGoldrick, J., Stewart, J. and Watson, S. (eds),
Understanding Human Resource Development: A research-based approach.
Routledge, London.
Holden, R., Thursfield, D. and Hamblett, J. Workforce Development Investment fund
Pilot: Evaluation of Pilot, unpublished report, Human Resource Development Unit,
Leeds Metropolitan University.
Johnson, R. (1988) ‘Really Useful Knowledge 1790 – 150: Memories for Education
in the 1980s’ in Lovett, T. Radical Approaches to Adult Education: A Reader,
Routledge, London.
Keep, E. and Mayhew, K. (1999), ‘Evaluating the assumptions that underlie training
policy’ in Ahier, J. and Esland, G. (eds), Education, Training and the Future of work
20
1: Social, Political and Economic Contexts of Policy Development, London,
Routledge and Open University.
Kumar, K. (1995), From Post-Industrial to Post-Modern society: New Theories of the
Contemporary World, Blackwell, Oxford.
McGoldrick, J., Stewart, J. and Watson, S. (2001), ‘Researching HRD: philosophy,
process and practice’ in McGoldrick, J., Stewart, J. and Watson, S. (eds),
Understanding Human Resource Development: A research-based approach.
Routledge, London.
National Council of Labour colleges (NCLC) (1924) South-East Lancashire Area
Council Annual Report.
NCLC (1925), History Report and Directory, Salford, Working Class Movement
Library.
North-Eastern Labour College (1921) Agitate, Organise and Educate.
‘The Plebs Magazine’ Editorial, (1913), Vol. V., No. 2.
Ree, J. (1984). Proletarian Philosophers, Oxford, Clarendon.
Simon, B. (1965), Education and the labour Movement, London, Lawrence and
Wishart.
Thursfield, D. and Hamblett, J. (2001), ‘Mutuality, learning and change at work: the
case of employee led development’ in Employee relations, Vol. 23., No. 4., pp. 337352.
Thursfield, D., Smith, V., Holden, R. and Hamblett, J. (2002), ‘Individual Learning
Accounts: honourable intentions, ignoble utility? In Research in Post-Compulsory
Education, Vol. 1., No. 2., pp.
21
22