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Research Article

Made in Sweden? Configured digitalized school leadership practice

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Pages 149-165 | Received 07 Feb 2022, Accepted 05 Dec 2022, Published online: 14 Dec 2022

ABSTRACT

Few notions seem to capture the imagination of education policymakers today as completely as digitalization and leadership. Through these two, schools are believed to become transformed, and in turn, these transformed schools will transform people and society. This paper critically analyzes a Swedish official digital policy instrument that materializes digitalized school leadership practice. The policy instrument is made available as a ‘helpful tool’ by a Swedish official education agency. The paper scrutinizes the policy knowledge process set to work within the instrument by the agency. Particularly, how the instrument may influence people to come to know and change schools, and how responsibility and risk of digitalization in schools seems to first be transferred to, and then between, people in schools. The paper is concluded by a discussion of how (a) three knowledge phases interact in the knowledge process of the instrument, (b) the technical – rather than social – solution that digitalized school leadership practice is found to be, and (c) implications for digitalization in schools as a social, cultural and historical phenomenon of interest to research.

Introduction

Imagine that you work in a school and that ‘management’ has made you responsible for leading a thing called digitalization. In your school district, a new local policy states that the district’s schools are ‘behind’ regarding digitalization compared to other schools in a much larger school district. When the school year is over, there is an expectation from management that there ought to be some positive results from digitalization in your school. But, you ask yourself, what is digitalization, and what results can be expected? Now imagine that there was a simple online questionnaire that you could fill in and, depending on your answers, the results let you know how far your school has come regarding digitalization, and where to lead it next. Moreover, this questionnaire was made by an official national education agency, and it is available on the agency’s website. Would you fill in the questionnaire?

If you did, you would join thousands of people in Swedish schools that for various reasons – wanting to ‘lead digitalization’ for example – have. Given the longstanding societal belief in leadership/the leader(s) as a mechanism/actor(s) with potential effects for society, organizing, and change in general (Grint Citation2011), adopting such beliefs as effective in schools is unavoidable, and can become problematic (Smyth Citation1989). In this ‘digital age’, the notion digitalization seems to equal leadership in terms of (positive) change potential in schools. For example, in European and Nordic education policy, the notion digitalization seems to function as an imperative for societal development (cf. Ottestad and Gudmundsdottir Citation2018). In Swedish official policy texts, digitalization and the nation’s ability to ‘harness’ it are seen as a driving force for sustainable economic international competition and, through that, national prosperity (Ministry of Enterprise and Innovation Citation2017). With a notion that has such far-reaching expectations for its societal impact, the steering and development of every part of society, and the ability of every individual, must inevitably be included in the scope of digitalization, or so it seems.

Taken together, the high hopes for digitalization (cf. Selwyn Citation2022) and leadership naturally lead the Swedish government to implement digital technologies in school practices and to proselytize formal school leaders (e.g. principals), as supposed means of increasing Sweden’s abilities to digitalized ends. This politically initiated implementation of digital technologies in education dates back to the 1960s in Sweden (Gu and Lindberg Citation2021; Jedeskog Citation2005; Karlsohn Citation2009). In other words, what emerges in one school practice as a problem to solve (i.e. the school must be more ‘digitalized’), a specific role responsible for solving it (i.e. a school leader) and a questionnaire as a simple solution, are connected to broader governing practices.

This paper adds to the corpus of research trying to understand contemporary digital education governing/governance practice (e.g. Decuypere and Lewis Citation2021; Grimaldi and Ball Citation2019; Williamson Citation2017) by critically analyzing a Swedish official digital policy instrument. An official policy instrument (e.g. policy texts, curricula, and online surveys) is an agency/actor endorsed/authored device that, when used by people, seeks to steer the activities of these people toward configuring their practice a particular way toward a particular goal (Freeman and Sturdy Citation2015b; Lascoumes and Le Galès Citation2007). A policy instrument is thus a device that ‘carries’ various ways of influencing people, and how this can be understood is the central focus of the paper. The policy instrument in question is called the leadership, infrastructure, competence, use (LICU; an online self-assessment questionnaire) tool, created and made available by the official Swedish governing agency Swedish Association of Local Authorities and Regions (SALAR). SALAR (Citation2022a) claims that LICU is a supportive tool that helps Swedish school leaders with digitalization.

As a starting point, the assumption made in this paper is that when the notions leadership and digitalization are combined and materialized in policy instruments, this is a call to action for critical research. Educational researchers have explored various digital tools used by school leaders, mainly principals, in terms of how digitalization in schools is enacted (e.g. Mårell-Olsson and Bergström Citation2018; Martinez Lunde Citation2021; Selwyn Citation2011). Moreover, educational researchers with a stake in digital education governance have explored, for example, European educational agencies’ digital policy instruments (e.g. Decuypere Citation2016; Grimaldi and Ball Citation2019; Ozga Citation2016; Williamson Citation2016b). However, ‘single state’ official digital policy instruments that in particular ways seek to configure digitalized school practice through formal school leaders seem to have been given scarce attention.

The purpose of the paper is to understand how SALAR makes use of LICU and how digitalized school leadership practice is configured within it.

Some of the central concepts in the paper are defined as follows (these will be deepened further on). An initial understanding of configuration is parts of a social whole that are related to each other in particular ways according to the conditions of a practice. An initial understanding of digitalized school practice is a configuration of a school practice that is primarily steered by political fiat (e.g. what ‘school leaders’ ought to be doing ‘to digitalize schools’ which assumes effectivity, higher learning outcomes, etc.). Digitalization in schools is considered in terms of the social phenomenon that emerges when people mediate learning via digital technologies in school activities (Siljebo Citation2020).

The paper is disposed as follows: Given that the empirical example comes from Sweden and regards schooling, a description is given of the nation’s schooling context. One key to understanding why people in schools use LICU at all concerns SALAR’s role in the organization of schooling and in relation to digitalized school practice. Another key is understanding the ‘broader’ practice of SALAR’s governing. For this, the theoretical framing section introduces the first steps towards understanding ‘how’ SALAR makes use of LICU. Here, a more concrete understanding of policy instrument use is introduced as a part of a policy knowledge process, where various knowledge phases are ‘coded’ into tools such as LICU. While this theoretical framing says something about the first how of the purpose, a closer look at the questionnaire items and an additional analytical tool provide answers for the second how that asks more precisely what it is that SALAR suggests that school leaders ought to 'achieve' in schools. In other words, if a school leader was able to use LICU ‘optimally’ how would they configure the different parts of a school practice, and for this cultural-historical activity theory is used to elaborate configuration as a concept and guide the analysis. The analysis of the LICU configuration of digitalized school practice is detailed and showcases many work tasks for school leaders, however they all lean in a distinct direction where digital technologies are center stage. In the final concluding section, a discussion is held that brings together the various preceding analytical steps taken, and describes how the policy knowledge process seems to work for SALAR and the Swedish government through LICU.

The empirical context

This paper’s empirical context (i.e. the Swedish context of digitalized school practice) concerns the Swedish school system. In this section, the organization of Swedish schooling, SALAR’s role and a description of LICU, along with a description of key terms, are provided.

The Swedish state has official education agencies (such as SALAR), comprised of actors (various people). There are also international official education agencies (e.g. parts of the OECD and the European Commission) and their actors.

Most Swedish K-12 schools are organized (e.g. employment contracts of all staff including principals, school locales, and ultimately legally responsible for upholding the Swedish School Act) by local governing municipalities (i.e. local authorities and the LA in SALAR). The municipalities have elected politicians, and administrative units with employed officials. There are also private companies and other organizational entities that organize schools in Sweden. Swedish schools are funded by a voucher system, where schools receive municipal funding per pupil/student admitted to the school, and each municipality receives funding through taxpayers in the municipality. Implementing digital technologies in municipal schools is bound to public bidding/procurement processes, working on a market principle of fair competition.

Digitalized school practice: SALAR and LICU

SALAR is an official governing agency; the association’s board consists of elected representatives; it employs officials that work in various divisions responsible, for example, for schooling. Other divisions include other welfare functions that municipalities and regions are responsible for, such as health- (regions) and social care (municipalities). The agency is the member association of Sweden’s municipalities and has influence on local governing. The agency works on assignments and agreements with the Swedish Government. SALAR has in recent years had a central role in Sweden regarding steering digitalized school practice.

One example of SALAR's role is the agency’s 2019 national plan of action, a broad model, including a series of actions and activities seen as necessary for implementing the 2017–2022 Swedish national strategy for the digitalization of the school system.

Another example is LICU. SALAR stated that

LICU has a clear and given connection to the national strategy for the digitalization of the school system and to [the curriculum] with a focus on the changes and clarifications that are registered and apply from autumn 2018. With the hope of concretizing what [digitalization is] all about and giving you and your colleagues support for continued speed forward. By sharing your self-assessment [LICU questionnaire answers] with your school, you can make your work visible, create a common framework to start from and highlight school-wide and municipal initiatives that are needed. (SALAR Citation2022, author’s translation).

When considering that the national strategy suggests, for example, that school leaders require strategic leadership, a reasonable interpretation is that SALAR attempts to configure this in LICU. However, SALAR (Citation2022b) also uses LICU to gather data and author reports as national summaries of different versions of LICU; the version at the time of writing the paper was 5.0.

LICU and its webpage are open access. As a background description on the webpage (https://lika.skl.se/about/page/senaste), SALAR writes that LICU was developed as an agreement between the agency and the Swedish Government in 2013, where SALAR was tasked with developing a framework that could ‘increase the tempo of public sector digitalization’ (author’s translation). In this framework development, SALAR, the Swedish National Agency for Education, the Swedish Digitalization Commission, and two municipalities located in or near large cities in southern Sweden are listed as the originators.

LICU is an online self-assessment questionnaire with Swedish formal school leaders (e.g. principals) as its proposed user base. SALAR reports that about 6,787 self-assessments were completed (shared with them by users, which means more were not shared) between 2015 and 2019 and 11,129 registered user accounts by 2019 and that 90% of Sweden’s 290 municipalities have what they call municipal accounts where questionnaire answers are connected within a municipality. There were no similar (i.e. targeting digitalization in schools and school leadership) online questionnaire tools available to people in schools by other official national education agencies in Sweden at the time of writing.

is a picture of the statement a user sees regarding the topic visions and strategical work in LICU’s leadership question battery.

Figure 1. LIKA Ledning [LICU], by Swedish association of local authorities and regions, Citation2022a (https://lika.skl.se). Illustration edited and translated by author.

Figure 1. LIKA Ledning [LICU], by Swedish association of local authorities and regions, Citation2022a (https://lika.skl.se). Illustration edited and translated by author.

As illustrates, in LICU, the user is asked to answer questions on a 5-point, closed-response scale. The scale ascends in order as follows: 0 = not planned/relevant, 1 = planned, 2 = initiated, 3 = almost there, and 4 = achieved.

When the user finishes the leadership section of the questionnaire, they advance to questions regarding Infrastructure, Competence, and Use (the ‘ICU’). When all questions are answered, the user is provided illustrations of their mean averages for each section, as shown in .

Figure 2. LIKA Ledning [LICU], by Swedish association of local authorities and regions, 2022c (https://lika.skl.se/uselika/page/handlingsplanen). Illustration edited and translated by author.

Figure 2. LIKA Ledning [LICU], by Swedish association of local authorities and regions, 2022c (https://lika.skl.se/uselika/page/handlingsplanen). Illustration edited and translated by author.

The user is also given suggestions based on their answers, as shown in .

Figure 3. LIKA Ledning [LICU], by Swedish association of local authorities and regions, 2022c (https://lika.skl.se/uselika/page/handlingsplanen). Illustration edited and translated by author.

Figure 3. LIKA Ledning [LICU], by Swedish association of local authorities and regions, 2022c (https://lika.skl.se/uselika/page/handlingsplanen). Illustration edited and translated by author.

To summarize, LICU is a relatively commonly used tool by people in Swedish schools, and this is reasonably partly due to SALAR’s relation to municipalities and their central role in recent Swedish digitalized school practice. LICU is ‘sold’ as a helpful tool that supports school leaders if they want to ‘achieve’ digitalization in schools. At the same time, SALAR gathers data from LICU’s users and issues reports regarding Swedish digitalized school leadership practice.

Theoretical framing

The official policy instruments that education agencies ‘make available’ to schools carry within them various ways of influencing the people that use them. The ‘how’ of these ways is of particular interest for the paper. LICU is not a tool easily described in terms of ‘hard’ inspection; rather it seems to be a ‘soft’ governing approach where the tool is ‘free to use if you happen to be in the situation of digitalizing your school’ (cf. Lawn Citation2006). To understand ‘the how’s materialized in LICU further, a framing of education agencies comprising agents working with and through knowledge is helpful. This work comprises knowledge phases, as people are inscribing knowledge into policy instruments, and it entails other people embodying the inscriptions and enacting them, through translation, in the relevant practices (Freeman and Sturdy Citation2015b). With this perspective, the focus of this paper relates particularly to LICU as various inscribed knowledges. Freeman and Sturdy describe knowledge inscription in policy instruments as

[t]he knowledge inscribed in texts and tools also entails particular ways of seeing, thinking and knowing; such artefacts can consequently serve to constrain and discipline our interactions with the world and with one another. Instruments of observation, measurement and calculation, in particular, provide a means of standardizing how we come to know the world (Freeman and Sturdy Citation2015b, 5).

In other words, inscribed knowledge in a policy instrument relates to (at least) three interacting knowledge inscriptions. There is (a) the inscription of knowledge that and how one ought to enact something, for example, that a practice ought to be configured in this or that way to work properly, achieve some outcome, etc. There is (b) also inscribed how this configuration ought to be embodied, for example, that embodying knowledge as quantitative data is the proper way to know the practice. And finally, although – perhaps – better hidden, there is (c) also inscribed a knowledge (a know-how or a practice) of how this enactment and embodiment can be governed. These three interacting knowledge inscriptions within the LICU are the theoretical framing in the paper, and each will first receive a further description before being set to work in analysis and discussion. We will start with the governing knowledge.

The framing of the governing knowledge will be made as self-evaluation (Grek Citation2015; Grek et al. Citation2013; Ozga Citation2009). Self-evaluation as a practice of governing schools consists of, for example, an educational agency – with the mandate of the government – providing ‘the proper’ evaluation criteria (inscribed in instruments) for people in schools so that they can determine (external) performance and self-improve schools (enact) according to the inscription. In this governing move, which is soft rather than hard, the government and its agencies also construct schools as naturally ‘learning organizations’ whereby accountability (and risk) for constant performance improvement rests firmly on the shoulders of teachers and school leaders (Ozga Citation2009).

Grek (Citation2015) exemplifies self-evaluation governing with school inspection in Scotland. Here, she describes the development of Scottish school inspection during the twentieth century, from primarily a practice of individual experts carrying out inspections mainly based on their embodied knowledge of school improvement, to educational agencies providing inscriptions in the form of school improvement frameworks with self-evaluation indicators for schools to self-improve on.

This shift Grek explains by, on the one hand, the data driven, evidence-based, New Public Management performance/improvement focus of twenty-first-century management practice, where – first and foremost quantitative – ‘evidence’ is the foundation of decision-making and improvement, in favor of embodied knowledge from the experience of experts. On the other hand, Grek (Citation2015) suggests that the ‘modern’ inspection process is (at least) two interacting processes: inspection carried out by officials from inspection agencies and self-evaluation for self-improvement (see also Grek et al. Citation2013). In this developed process, the evaluation of schools in many European countries today (e.g. providing self-evaluation inscriptions that generate data) is seldom carried out by only one inspectorate agency, but by many agencies and actors – national and international – via the governance turn (Grek Citation2015; Ozga, Segerholm, and Simola Citation2011).

Within the governing knowledge of self-evaluation, it is apparent that there are also deeper governance movements that relate to knowledge embodiment – knowing schools through numbers and comparison – and these are hard to separate.

To understand the ‘enactment knowledge’ that LICU suggests to school leaders, it is necessary to analyze the configuration of the L(eadership) in LICU. What an analysis of the L can achieved is to understand what constitutes a proper enactment of digitalized school practice in LICU by how the inscription ‘privileges one way of knowing the world … to the exclusion of others’ (Freeman & Sturdy, Citation2015a, 217). In other words, an answer can be framed in terms of what is included in a ‘LICU school’ configuration, and what is excluded, through the instrument’s configuration of one practice. This is analyzed in the following section.

LICU configuration analysis

To make the analysis process in the paper as transparent as possible, this section first presents the analytical tool (i.e. the activity system) and the LICU questionnaire items (the ‘Leadership items’). Then follows the analysis of the configuration.

The digitalized school leadership practice of LICU is analyzed via cultural-historical activity theory (activity theory for short; Engeström Citation2015). In activity theory, a school practice is understood as an activity system that mediates practice in particular ways for people in schools depending on how the system is configured. Activity theory has a robust conceptualization traditionally utilized to understand educational practice and schools (Engeström and Sannino Citation2010; Roth Citation2004).

The activity system consists of the (in theory) configurable and mediating components division of labor, tools, rules, and community. These components of an activity system mediate subjects acting towards objects; in ‘leadership practice,’ these components are configured parts of a social whole (Engeström Citation2015; cf. Gronn Citation2010).

This is not to say that activity theory suggests that practice can be simply changed via configuring it this or that way. To the contrary, the assumption that, for example, a school’s community shares a social history, distributes work via division of labor, and has particular tools and rules, leads to conflicts both within a school and with other activity systems. However, with this understanding of how a practice is configured, it is possible to gain insight into a version of SALAR’s inscribed ‘ideal’ configuration, and the analysis can shine a light on the proposed enactment of digitalized school leadership practice.

An example follows of how a leadership statement in LICU is analyzed as a configuration of an activity system: the statement reads ‘The school’s management has a concrete vision for the work with digitalization in the school which is communicated to the employees.’ There is a configuration where there is a division of labor (who does what) of ‘management’; there is a tool called ‘concrete vision’ encompassing digitalization; there is a rule (praxis) of ‘clearly communicating’; there is a community of ‘employees’ that are recipients of all the previous.

The analysis focuses on the closed-response statements under the heading Leadership in LICU (n = 23; the L) as they were made available online in December 2022. The leadership questions are in LICU structured via six headings: (a) Visions and Strategic Work, (b) Organization, (c) Organization – Competence Development, (d) Guidelines and Routines, (e) Budget, and (f) Evaluation.

In the initial steps of the LICU questionnaire, the user is asked for what ‘school form’ they serve as a school leader: preschool (in Sweden, students aged 1–6 years), compulsory school (ages 7–16), upper secondary school (ages 16–19), or adult education. The statements selected for the analyses in this paper were those asked of users selecting an upper secondary school. (All leadership questions were translated by the author to English, see Appendix A for the individual questions, Q1–23, and Appendix B for their categorization according to activity theory).

The configuration

In LICU’s division of the labor category (i.e. the ‘who’ enacting), the most predominant terms were ‘the school’s management’ or ‘the school.’ In other words, rather than focusing, for example, on the specialized role of the principal or teacher/educator, SALAR favors management groups or the vague formulation of the school. This can be further exemplified with the fact that only two of the 23 questions were more specific roles targeted: ‘the school leader’ (Q23) and ‘the students’ (Q7). In the division of labor, ‘the educators’ (i.e. teachers) found in other categories seem to be missing entirely, since no question directly suggests that educators themselves ought to oversee what takes place; educators appear to be more generally approached as doers in the community category. A few questions are formulated in such a way that it is exceptionally difficult to discern any division of labor in terms of specialized roles (Q3, 12, 18). In other words, while, on the one hand, responsibility seldom rests on individual roles, on the other, it primarily rests on a management function rather than on educators.

The tool category contains the cultural content (i.e. the ‘what’ of enactment) through which to mediate digitalized school leadership practice. The category contains a few predominant themes: (a) digital tools for work in general (Q4, 6, 15, 18), (b) digital tools and resources in pedagogical practice (Q2, 5, 10, 13, 17, 20–23), and (c) the notion of digitalization as a general motive (Q1, 3, 14, 16, 20). An assumption in common for the first two themes is that digital tools and resources are possibly, developmentally, effectively, and pedagogically useful. As such, digital tools and resources are never impractical, constraining, limited, or useless in pedagogical practice or for work, and so on. It seems to be only up to the user to find the right tool and resource. The notion of digitalization as a general motive is predominant as a thing that ought to ‘permeate’ digitalized school leadership practice, appearing specifically in questions when digital tools and resources are not present. In other words, when digital tools and resources are not directly used to carry out teaching tasks or ‘work’, digitalization still ought to be on the ‘agenda’ (i.e. in meetings and discussions). Digitalization, however, is not given any further description or meaning beyond the term.

The rule category contains the cultural praxis (i.e. the ‘how’ of enactment) with which to mediate the tools. These praxes focus predominantly on (a) regularly including and discussing digitalization and digital tools in meetings and systematic work (Q3, 5, 12, 13, 23); (b) creating and designating specific human resources with support functions regarding digital tool and resource use (Q8–11, 20); (c) creating routines, strategies, and plans regarding digital tools (Q4,17–19) and making sure that digital technologies are used in teaching (Q21–22). In other words, there is a repertoire of how to lead digitalized school practice that consists of management making and communicating plans and visions in regular meetings, having and using economic and human resources for digital technologies and their support functions, and ‘following’ if digital technologies are used in classrooms.

The community contains the people (i.e. the ‘who’ to enact upon/with) being included and targeted by digitalized school leadership practice, through the division of labor, through tools and with praxes. Two themes stand out: there are (a) traditional community actors in schools, such as educators, management groups, the school leader, employees, students and legal guardians. There are also (b) ‘areas’ of a school, or simply ‘the school’, where the ‘targets’ seem ambiguous, or simply that everyone ought to be a target. Overall, in LICU, the configuration demands a relatively large school and/or municipality to maintain the community. This is evident in the economic resources for specific staff for IT administration, support, pedagogical use of hardware/software for educators and students (Q8-11), and in a specific digitalization budget (Q20), particularly when considering the Swedish voucher system where more students equal larger economical resources. Moreover, the school has management groups (i.e. not just a single school leader) (Q3), and student digitalization councils and coaches (Q7), which indicate a relatively large school.

In summary, what is included as proper enactment in SALAR’s configuration in upper secondary school is the following: a totally digitalized school. Every part of a school’s inner life is digital. We ought to be concerned with digitalization in one way or another; from the cultural tools in hand and mind when teachers work with students to the traditional praxes of regular meetings, designating support personnel, and monitoring teaching activities. The responsibility of school leaders is, simply, to make digitalizing plans, to provide digital tools, to keep teachers talking and thinking about digital tools, and to make sure that the tools are also used in teaching (i.e. if and that they are used, not how or why). On this ‘leadership level,’ the school leader is responsible for everything. If there are too few digital technologies for work or teaching, if the internet is too slow, if there is not enough support for teacher’s use, etc., then presumably school leaders have failed. However, when digital technologies are used on ‘the classroom level’ and if (when) learning outcomes are not increased, work processes are not more efficient, etc., the school leader can shift responsibility to teachers.

A particularly interesting item is the only statement that specifically prescribes enactment for the role ‘school leader’ (Q23), otherwise always the looser term management is used. This item connects the political fiat of digital tools for pedagogical development (i.e. they are unequivocally good) to ‘systematic quality work’. Systematic quality work is a governing practice aimed at general school performance in Sweden and is the legal responsibility of Swedish principals. In other words, SALAR suggests that it is the legal responsibility of Swedish principals to embody that digital technologies in teaching equals pedagogical, positive development and to be able to enact examples of this development.

What is excluded as proper enactment by the configuration is the traditional school (i.e. the developmental history of schools and digital technology). The question is, what is it in history in general, and in the history of enactment of each school, that SALAR hides (willingly or not) by this exclusion?

If we look far enough back in the history of schooling in general, we know, for example, that enacting schooling without any digital technologies has worked. More recently, daily teaching without digital technologies in Swedish upper secondary schools was common up until around the twenty tens, when the price of laptop computers became low enough so that implementing a 1:1 computer to student and teacher ratio in Swedish schools became economically and practically feasible. This historical development is securely tucked away in the totally digitalized school, through its singular focus on finding a hole and filling it with digital technologies.

However, a caveat is necessary to the assertion that SALAR hides traditional schools: the structure of schools, the role of educators and school leaders, etc., may be unchanged in LICU, but the ways of working and learning without digital technologies are hidden. As such, in terms of a school as an organizational unit for development, SALAR’s vision is traditional, albeit as a ‘best fit’ for a large municipality/school with good economy, where, for example, municipalities/schools with poor economy or with few students are excluded as a ‘digitalizable’ (e.g. modern) school.

If we look to the history of enactment of each Swedish school today, in the process of implementing digital technologies in each case – which has been ongoing for many years – it is safe to say that there are far more ambiguous results than there are of ‘digitalized potential’ being ‘harnessed’ for teaching and learning. This is because digital technologies in teaching for its own sake can never be unequivocally good, but different for each practice, and often have neither good nor bad effects, but simply no significant effects, or unexpected effects (cf. Selwyn Citation2022). This seems like a simple error of reasoning in LICU. In other words, rather than trying to understand what went wrong in the history of a school so that such mistakes may be avoided, history is forgotten (erased) through only focusing on evaluating the here and now – which will never be enough – and highlighting the assumed good examples. However, this is more than an error of reasoning. This is taking a gritty, complex social phenomenon (i.e. digitalization in schools) and hiding this fact by providing a simple, technical solution (Selwyn Citation2022). People in schools are not only supposed to forget traditional teaching, but all the ways that each school’s situated activities have interacted with each other and the contexts of schools (cf. Engeström Citation2015). In other words, there are no lessons to learn from history in SALAR’s digitalized school leadership practice enactment.

Discussion and concluding remarks

What was proposed in the introduction was that the notions digitalization and leadership hold a particular appeal in the governing of today’s society through schools and school leaders. Moreover, that understanding SALAR’s instrument LICU in Swedish governing could contribute to a growing body of educational research focusing on digital education governance. The purpose of the paper was to understand how SALAR makes use of LICU and how digitalized school leadership practice is configured within it. Also, a demarcation was made between digitalized school practice and the complex social phenomenon that emerges as digitalization in schools.

To answer the purpose, parts of the study’s context were described: the Swedish schooling context and SALAR’s role in this context. A simple answer to how SALAR makes use of LICU could be formulated as the fact that SALAR is an education agency that, in an agreement with the government, was tasked to create a framework to stoke the fires of digitalized school practice. In other words, perhaps the Swedish government after several years of digitalization implementations still could not find the expected results of digitalization in schools and concluded that the agency closest to municipal governing – SALAR – could ‘make it happen’. SALAR’s central role in the Swedish digitalized school practice context matters: it may hold a position of trust and knowledgeability in local municipal governing and digitalization. However, when considering how SALAR makes use of LICU in light of the theoretical framing, a more concrete answer can be formulated.

The theoretical framing posited that within the policy instrument there are at least three interacting knowledge phase inscriptions: an inscribed enactment knowledge of one configuration (i.e. the totally digitalized school), an inscribed embodiment knowledge of digitalization in schools (i.e. coming to know schools through quantitative questionnaire statements and diagrams), and an inscribed governing knowledge (i.e. self-evaluation). With this framing how SALAR makes use of LICU is as a self-evaluation governing instrument.

Inscribed in self-evaluation is the key mechanism that entails shifting responsibility of schooling from the state to each individual teacher and school leader and constructing schools as a naturally ‘learning organizations’ (Grek Citation2015; Ozga Citation2009). Via LICU, this means taking the political fiat that digitalization and school leadership are the simple (technical) solutions to ‘problems’ in schools and making school leaders responsible for achieving the impossible (cf. Selwyn Citation2022) and accountable for whatever does not happen. For SALAR, self-evaluation is a particularly suitable – arguably the possible – governing practice, given that the agency is not a formal inspectorate agency able to use ‘hard inspection’ (cf. Lawn Citation2006). And, through the self-evaluation process and all the data that LICU gathers, SALAR is still able to inspect and author reports on ‘where things stand’ regarding digitalization in Swedish schools.

Closely interacting with the issue of data gathering in LICU – questionnaire statements on a closed-response 5-point scale – is the issue of how both SALAR and school leaders using LICU come to embody knowledge of digitalization in schools. SALAR’s inscription of embodying schools through easily quantifiable data and diagrams is not surprising, given contemporary governing. For people in schools, embodying digitalization in schools as a 5-point scale of ‘achievement’ and a diagram comparing one school to the other flattens aspects of social interaction and local context that can be one key to embodying knowledge of school practice (cf. Decuypere Citation2016; Engeström Citation2015). And this ‘flattened embodiment’ reasonably translates more poorly into enactment.

The issue of enactment knowledge relates to answering the second part of the paper: how digitalized school leadership practice is configured within LICU. This was analyzed as an activity system where the inscribed enactment was posited to include one particular practice to the exclusion of other possible practices. The short version of this – as the long version is available in the previous section – is the totally digitalized school, which excludes both tradition, history and social complexity in favor of the technical solution of digital implementation. Whether implementation is to be understood as either a simple political fiat and/or that the way knowledge is inscribed in LICU can only be embodied and enacted ‘simply’, is a point of some interest. What the enactment analysis contributes to is a more concrete understanding of how the inscribed knowledge phases interact.

In particular, the interaction is evidenced with the discernable ‘school leadership level’. On the one hand, of course, not finding something translatable to a leadership level in a ‘leadership instrument’ would be surprising indeed. On the other hand, the theoretical framing uncovers an understanding where the self-evaluation mechanism of the naturally learning school organization may come to create a clean point of responsibility transfer. For, as long as school leaders live up to ‘their level’ – which includes having digital technologies for everyone and making sure if and that they are used in teaching, having enough organizational resources, and talking about digitalization constantly – responsibility for achieving the many assumed potentials of digitalization falls on the ‘teacher level’. In this light, LICU can be as much an alibi for school leaders – at the expense of teachers – in the increasing political pressure of digitalizing schools, as it is a helpful tool for ‘harnessing the opportunities of digitalization’. Then, again, that may perhaps be the meaning of ‘help’ inscribed in LICU.

The contribution of this paper relates primarily to digitalization in schools and the focus for future research. Digitalization in schools appears to be a pervasive ‘problem’ today and for governments in the Nordic countries and Europe the solution seems to have been implementing as many technologies as possible. The paper’s example of steering via digitalized school leadership practice, where the Swedish government reaches out via SALAR and LICU, is only one example in Sweden. The Swedish National Agency for Schools has its own policy instruments, and the Swedish Schools Inspectorate has several more. With the three agencies working simultaneously via their inspection processes, the political pressure on people in schools regarding digitalization seems to never have been as widespread or as permeating as right now. It seems more necessary than ever to continually and critically analyze exactly what important aspects (i.e. social, cultural and historical) about schools the technical digitalized school practice hides, and not least the – presumably – ’foundational problems’ that the totally digitalized school is assumed to solve. It may be that we are witnessing a culmination in digitalized school practice – not just in Sweden – and the question is what comes next.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Additional information

Funding

The author’s research was funded via a doctoral research project collaboration between the Industrial Doctoral School, Umeå University, Sweden, and Atea, Sweden;Industrial Doctoral School, Umeå universitet, Sweden.

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Appendix

Table A1. Table of translated questionnaire statements for reference purposes.

Appendix A2.

Table A2. Results regarding the analysis of statements Q1-23 according to analytical framework categories.