Article in the Guardian 11 Dec 2005
by Jenny McCartney

Just Google 'waste of money', Mr Blair

Before Tony Blair moved into 10 Downing Street, you might remember, one of his loudest promises was that New Labour would install fresh, shining banks of computers in school classrooms. There was no more enthusiastic salesman for the great ideal of Technology: in1995, Mr Blair boldly unveiled a prospective deal with British Telecom to wire up every school to the information superhighway. Older, fustier Tory politicians sat bolt upright in mingled admiration and alarm, knocking over inkstands and quill pens in their haste to thumb through Dr Johnson's dictionary - looking for the meaning of the word "internet".

Mr Blair, however, was also the first to admit that he was not really aufait with computers himself. He prefers the erratic poetry of our postal system to the smart ping of email. If pressed to reveal the extent of his computer know-how, he has tended to say distracting things such as "Cherie's absolutely brilliant on computers, and the kids are fantastic". Nor has time persuaded him to the net - when bearded earlier this year by a liberal Democrat MP and accused of being a "technophobe", the Prime Minister sheepishly admitted the charge.

I dredge this up not to jeer at Mr Blair, because I am only hanging a couple of shaky rungs above him on the computing ladder myself. But I think that he has fallen prey to a syndrome - particularly common in the field of technological innovation -whereby one holds in especial reverence that which one does not understand. The result of Mr Blair's uncomprehending reverence has been £1.7 billion of Government money lavished on computer facilities in schools.

Last week Professor David Buckingham, of the Institute for Education, published a report entitled Schooling the Digital Generation. In it he concluded that: "Despite massive expenditure on the part of Government and intensive promotion by industry, few teachers have made much use of technology in their teaching, and where they have there has been little definitive evidence it has contributed to raising achievement" In short, the computer revolution in education - in its present form, at least -has been a substantial waste of cash.

That has not, however, stopped Mr Blair from boasting about it with all the zeal of the unconverted. In a speech on education in October, he proudly pointed out that "schools have access to twice as many computers, as well as new interactive whiteboards and broadband technology." I don't really know what a "new interactive whiteboard" is, and I very much doubt that Mr Blair does either, but it's the sort of thing that always sounds extremely impressive to an audience that is only half-listening.

Prof. Buckingham, who has questioned the fruits of this Government investment, is far from a Luddite: indeed, he is keen to see computers used more effectively, with proper teacher training and investment in the appropriate software. I am inclined to agree: I came to the computer myself at the rather late age of 23, before which I composed everything on paper in laborious longhand, and - aside from the terrible, heart-melting moments in which it unaccountably freezes or forgets everything - it has made life easier.

Yet the computer is essentially a tool, not a teacher. It speeds up access to information - a miraculous thing in itself certainly - but it doesn't sift the information, analyse it, or reshape it into something original and useful. That outcome will depend on the skills of the user, and it is precisely these skills that years of teaching are supposed to impart to pupils: younger children do not yet have them.

There exists, however, a widespread misapprehension that the mere acquisition of a computer carries a child half-way towards super-boffin status. It is the intellectual equivalent of the delusion that paying for gym membership will somehow make us fit. The very phrase "Oh, he's up in his room, on the computer" conveys a false sense of reassurance to an older generation that could vote long before it could Google.

To the modern parent and politician, the computer is inherently more respectable than the television; to the child, it's just another exciting screen, which can deliver the low-down on Jordan's breasts, the lyrics of Girls Aloud's latest album and a handy selection of bogus, ready-made essays just as quickly as the history of the Steam Age. If computers are to make sense in schools, they will require more work and tighter supervision from teachers, not less. That is a grim little truth that - bedazzled by the white heat of technology - Mr Blair has yet to face.