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Material Environments In Social Relations


One aspect of the CHAT perspective that is unevenly appreciated but specifically explored in this research is the role of the material environment in mediating activity. Vygotsky took an explicitly materialist position. Tools or artifacts are central to CHAT in terms of how they influence development. “Cultural artifacts were central to Vygotsky’s conceptualization not only because they could be the media of consciousness, of ‘higher mental functions,’ but because, as such, they could serve as tools of liberation from control by environmental stimuli” ( Holland et al, 1998, p. 62). The mastery of tools, then, liberates people from material domination. The problem is that some artifacts are highlighted—being distinguished as tools—while others are ignored. All parts of the material environment potentially participate—becoming cognitive tools.

As a participant that is often overlooked, buildings and the artifacts they contain carry their own histories and assert their own ideologies—their own constraints and promotions—at a variety of levels. At their most basic, artifacts have particular affordances (Gibson, 1986) that limit what can be done and promote some actions. Latour (1996) further indicated the environment’s participation in introducing the concept of “framed interactions.” Accordingly, all interactions are framed by the material environment; activity is shaped by its material frame.

Furthermore, Latour (1996) stressed that artifacts have the ability to bring the actions of distant people into the immediate interaction, thus connecting macro and micro social relations.
The clothing that we are wearing comes from elsewhere and was manufactured a long time ago; the words we use were not formed for this occasion; the walls we have been leaning on were designed by an architect for a client, and constructed by workers—people who are absent today, although their action continues to make itself felt. (p . 231)
Distant actions are embodied and therefore participate in the immediate ones. In schools, the furniture that establishes seating and work patterns was chosen with some idea of how classes function, and the video equipment was selected with a particular idea of what was needed. Even posters on the walls maintain the presence of other activities and the ideologies behind them. Artifacts thus maintain the connection to the world outside the immediate context. They further maintain a stability over time because most materials do not frequently change.

The material world is thus thoroughly connected with the social world. Latour (1996) insisted that humans and objects are equally part of the activity, irreplaceable and inseparable in the act. Both are actors, and both are actants: “There are only actors—actants—any one of which can only ‘proceed to action’ by association with others who may surprise or exceed him/her/it” (p. 237). Activity thus requires bodies and tools and the agency that brings them together. Simultaneously, walls help form the contexts that frame activities, even if they are not explicitly activated. Finally, the official affordances—those purposes that history has overtly inscribed in an object—can be exceeded to fulfill previously unobserved potentials. This last is an essential component of this perspective: The material world does not determine action, but the range of choices is constrained by it and some choices are so implicitly and explicitly promoted that the usual range of actions observed is far less than those possible.

The ways in which the material environment asserts its presence has been elaborated upon by Lefebvre (1974), who offered three distinct levels of meaning. The methodology being developed in this research is anticipated to provide ways to further investigate the coordination between the three levels, but for the present, they offer a deeper consideration of how environments participate in activities. The first level of influence is referred to as “spatial practice;” it is what is prescribed to happen in a place. In schools, classrooms have different functions: The chemistry lab can be used for other things, but many chemistry experiments could not be completed without the equipment installed in the room. This level relates to the official affordances and is defined by how a place is visibly and routinely used. This level can easily be observed.

The “representations of space” or how the space3 is openly understood is the second level Lefebvre (1974) described. This is the level occupied by dominant ideologies. For example, the math classroom may not be any different from the English classroom, but the fact that everyone refers to them by these names changes the meanings of the rooms. Lefebvre argued that an ideology needs a place that describes it, that has its vocabulary connected to it, and that embodies it (p. 44). This need for material representation demonstrates one difficulty subordinate ideologies confront within institutions when they are alloted no place. This level can be observed most easily in the labels that are visually (such as with signs) and orally used to describe an area—thus creating a place.

The final level is what Lefebvre referred to as “representational space,” referring to the symbols and hidden meanings inherent in a space. This level has a special significance and is the one that is the focus of the new methodology. “Representational space is alive; it speaks. It has an affective kernel or centre. . . . It embraces the loci of passion, of action and of lived situations, and thus immediately implies time” (p. 42). Representational space is either personal or belongs to a subordinate group that in some way obscures these meanings. In its connection to time, it is the level that relates to tactics or activity from a position of weakness: This level of meaning is not permanently or openly marked but occupies a place only when particular people also occupy the place. In many ways, this level is the most powerful because it is the level people are least aware of and ironically most in control of; it is the level at which students and teachers might most differ. This level of meaning is more difficult to observe but can become visible in student made videotapes—in the way they relate to places with the camera. All levels, however, are at work and communicate the messages of ideological complexes. Lefebvre referred to them as “the triad of the perceived, the conceived, and the lived” (p. 39).

The need to devote more attention to the material environment is dual: At a theoretical level, it provides a connection between particular moments in particular contexts and societal actions, and at a very practical level, the significance is typically underestimated and insufficiently understood. The zone concept in the ZPD, ZFM, and ZPA is a spatial metaphor that at times is clearly material. With toddlers, for instance, parents limit their children’s movement quite directly to prevent a whole range of accidents, and the toys provided promote activities parents find valuable. Zones are similarly but more subtly framed with older children and youth.

Gutierrez, Baquedano-Lopez, and Tejada (1999) have contributed to the ZPD the notion of a third space. They argue that the third space is where the language of the teachers and the language of the students merge to create hybrid languages, which are found to facilitate development. The third space is similar to my conception of space because it is a place where the teacher's agendas do not dominate and students have the freedom to introduce their own languages and interests. One underlying question about the utility of space for promoting development asks whether a material third space—viewed as that space between places—might also promote development in video communication and perhaps in other subjects. In work with elementary school children, Rivlin and Wolfe found that “children often took their work with them into these private places [the wardrobe, the bathroom, the reading area, and under the table], where they could write or study without being watched” (1985, p. 191). The “privacy” sought out by these and other students may allow the process of internalization. The possibility of having the teacher enter these spaces stirs a separate but compelling question.

At the most practical level, it is possible that the messages embodied in schools will “have a particular objective validity and will be the least likely to be reflected upon and recognized as being matters of custom and value rather than nature” (Goodnow, 1990, p. 282). The danger (and possible advantage) of the messages conveyed materially is that not only will students perceive them as the way things must be, but teachers will also: What happened “at a particular point in time” will continue to limit what students and teachers believe is possible (Spain, 1992, p. 6). Knowledge of which aspects of school environments are most crucial to improving education can be a guide to how communities should best use insufficient funds. The material environments of schools, which shape first impressions and daily activity, are investigated broadly to help define school differences and similarities. The material is then included in the study of moment-to-moment actions as both a concrete measure of action and a participant in activity. Student-made videos are pursued as a way to reveal meanings that may otherwise remain hidden.


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 3 Lefebvre’s use of the word “space” is distinct from my use.
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