BOOK REVIEW

Global panaceas, local realities: International agenciesand the future of education

By Jason Beech. Peter Lang, Frankfurt, 2011, 279 pp. Comparative Studiesseries, vol. 22. ISBN 978-3-631-59477-3 (hbk)

Helen Abadzi

Published online: 18 February 2012

� Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2012

This book, which is based on a doctoral dissertation from the University of London’s

Institute of Education, focuses on the influence of various international institutions on

the educational systems of various countries. It analyses the phenomenon of eloquent

emissaries from the World Bank, UNESCO, OECD, or from distinguished universities

who recommend educational policies to client countries and ultimately bring about

changes at the school level. The policies and solutions proposed by these institutions

aim to adapt education to the future needs of labour markets. Inevitably these

institutions make similar assumptions for different countries and give similar advice to

different clients. For example, the World Bank and UNESCO have reportedly

promoted universal models for decentralisation and teacher education in the

information age. But their staff may give little thought to interpreting the advice at

the local level, so the outcomes may be unexpected and not necessarily positive.

To demonstrate these outcomes, the book discusses the educational systems of

Brazil and Argentina. It analyses the educational philosophies and teacher training

models of these countries in the 1990s. A separate chapter presents the views of a

small number of experienced Brazilian and Argentine teachers. In interviews, the

teachers were asked to ‘‘reinterpret global educational discourse in practice’’ on a

broad range of topics, from curriculum application to teacher training practices.

Many books in the past have expressed concerns about the globalised models

pushed by international organisations on various countries. Some, like Susan

George and Fabrizio Sabelli’s Faith and Credit (1994) contend that the ‘‘experts’’

who create act more as priests than as scientists. A reader familiar with such books

might expect hard-hitting examples of assumptions gone awry in Brazilian or

Argentine classrooms and poignant stories about how students’ lives have been

compromised by poor policies. For example, the author might illustrate the impos-

sibility of teaching basic skills (let alone creativity, adaptability, problem-solving

H. Abadzi (&)

The World Bank, Washington, DC, USA

e-mail: habadzi@worldbank.org

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Int Rev Educ (2012) 58:301–302

DOI 10.1007/s11159-012-9270-z

and various other high-level competencies) through models promulgated by

‘‘experts’’ who never spent a day as classroom teachers. Examples are available

from the independent evaluations of the World Bank’s education projects (see

www.worldbank.org/IEG).

The book would be a hit if it also contained some well-reasoned alternatives.

After all, the basics of information processing are known, and hopefully taught in

the London University’s Institute of Education. Worldwide, humans learn pretty

much through the same general processes; international organisations ought to base

their advice on these commonalities rather on abstract systems that are products of

cultural variability. Clearly, most students cannot attain high-level competencies

such as creativity unless they automatise early-grade basic skills; nor can modestly

educated teachers be expected to interpret abstract curricular guides and convert

them into effective classroom activities.

Unfortunately the book stays away from classroom specifics. It seems instead to

preach a new religion, ‘‘global educational discourse’’. The discourse is omnipresent

and omniscient, and the means of its transmission are never revealed. In particular

this deity seems to inhabit the ‘‘global academic space’’ (p. 264), where ‘‘specialized

academic discourses are created’’. Nowhere does the book reveal how this

knowledge overtakes those who indulge in the ‘‘circulation of the cutting-edge

knowledge about education’’. The readers who are not initiated to this religion are

regaled with esoteric statements such as ‘‘policy as discourse, policy as text, and

recontextualization’’ (p. 192) or ‘‘clearly discernible supranatural versions of

pedagogy’’ (p. 95), ‘‘supra-national versions of pedagogy’’ and ‘‘transnationally

standardised educational models’’.

In a sense the book reflects a clash of aspirations. On one hand are the World

Bank and UNESCO employees who create complex models that may bear little

resemblance to classroom events. On the other there are comparative education

specialists who want their turn at jet-setting around the capitals of the globe to give

advice. The jargon of the book may be interpreted as conveying the message that the

latter are equally competent. After all, the economic and educational jargon may

sound equally pithy and profound to policy-makers.

What policy-makers do not get (and the ‘‘discourse’’ does not provide) is

knowledge on how students can master more efficiently the skills needed for a good

life. Fierce ‘‘discourse’’ battles are waged on paper every day while thousands of

students in many low-income countries drop out or graduate illiterate. It would be

very helpful to the purported beneficiaries of education if comparative education

students were better schooled in the basics of learning and got teaching experience

in grades 1–12. Then they might be better equipped to take over from the

economists who dominate in international education agencies and do a better job.

Reference

George, S., & Sabelli, F. (1994). Faith and credit: The World Bank’s secular empire. Boulder, CO:

Westview Press.

302 H. Abadzi

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