Latest News Archive

Please select Category, Year, and then Month to display items
Previous Archive
16 August 2024 Photo Supplied
Dr Peet van Aardt
Dr Peet van Aardt is the head of the UFS Writing Centre and the Coordinator of the Initiative for Creative African Narratives (iCAN).

Opinion article by Dr Peet van Aardt, Centre for Teaching and Learning and Head of the UFS Writing Centre, University of the Free State. 


The use and permittance of artificial intelligence tools such as ChatGPT at the University of the Free State (UFS) should be discouraged, writes Dr Peet van Aardt.

A decade ago, academics were encouraged to find ways to incorporate social media platforms like Facebook and Twitter in their teaching. Seeing as students were spending so much time on these platforms, the idea was that we need to take the classroom to them. Until they found out young people do not use social media to study, but rather to create and share entertainment content.

During the late 2000s, News24.com, the biggest news website in Africa, went on a mission to nurture and expand what was known as “community journalism” because everybody started owning smartphones, the news outlet’s leadership thought it was the opportunity to provide a platform for people to share photos, videos and stories of news events that took place around them. Until they realised that the vast majority of people didn’t want to contribute to journalism; they merely wanted to consume it.

Lest we assume students will use AI in a responsible and productive manner, at the UFS Writing Centre we find that students over-rely on ChatGPT in their assignments and essays. We should do everything in our power to discourage its use because it threatens what we do at a university on three levels.

It’s an educational issue

There are five main academic literacies we want to teach our students: reading, writing, speaking, listening and critical thinking. When students prompt ChatGPT to write their essay for them, immediately the reading and writing literacies are discarded because the student does not write the essay, nor do they read any source material that would help them form an argument. Critical thinking goes out the window, because it is merely a copy-and-paste job they are performing. And speaking? We see in the Writing Centre that students who use ChatGPT cannot discuss their “work”. The student voice is being killed.

There are lecturers who take the approach of motivating students to use prompted content from ChatGPT in order to critique and discuss the AI output. This is fine, should the students be operating at a level where their academic literacies have been established. In short: for postgraduate use it might be acceptable. Undergraduate students need to go through the process of becoming scholars and master their subject matter before they can be expected to critique it. It is basic pedagogy, and our duty as staff at the UFS, because it aligns with the Graduate Attribute of Critical Thinking.

It’s a moral issue

In addition to the academic literacies we attempt to instil in our students are attributes of ethical reasoning and written communication. The fact that AI tools “scrape” the internet for content without any consent from the content creators means that it is committing plagiarism. It is theft – “the greatest heist in history” as some refer to it. Do we want our students to develop digital skills and competencies on immoral grounds? Because often this is the reason given when students are encouraged or allowed to use AI: “The technology is there, and therefore we must learn to go with the flow and let the students to use it.” By this reasoning one can make the argument that the UFS rugby team (go, Shimlas!) must use performance-enhancing substances because it will make the players faster, stronger and “the technology is there”.

Academics also face a moral dilemma as there seems to brew a view that fire should be fought with fire: that AI can assist and even lead in tasks such as plagiarism detection, assessment and content development. But fighting fire with fire just burns down the house. Let us not look to AI to lessen our workload.

It’s an economic issue

Technology in education should be used to level the playing field. Companies develop online tools with a primary goal of making money – despite what the bandwagon passengers in the East and West promise us. Their operations cost a lot of money, and so they release free versions to get people hooked on it, and then they develop better products and place them behind a paywall. What this then means is that students who can afford subscription costs get access to the premium product, while the poor students get left behind. How can we assess two students who cannot make use of the same version of a tool? This will widen the gap in performance between students from different economic backgrounds. And consider the deletion of the authentic student voice (as alluded to earlier), these AI tools just represent a new platform for colonisation and therefore have no place in our institution.

OK, so what?

Lecturers who want advice on how to detect overreliance on AI tools can have a look at this video, which forms part of the AI Wayfinder Series – a brilliant project by the UFS’s Interdisciplinary Centre for Digital Futures and the Digital Scholarship Centre. These centres also have other helpful resources to check out.

But as an institution we need to produce a policy on how to deal with the threat and possibilities of AI. (Because in society and in certain disciplines it can make a contribution – just not for undergraduate studies in a university context.) Currently, a team that includes staff from the Faculty of Law and that of Economic and Management Sciences is busy drafting guidelines which departments can implement. Then, after a while, a review of these guidelines-in-practice can be done to lead us on the path of establishing a concrete policy.

If we as educators consider the facts that the use of AI tools impede the development of academic literacies (on undergraduate level), it silences local, authentic voices and it can create further economic division among our student community, we should not promote its use at our institution. Technology is not innovative if it does not improve something.

Dr Peet van Aardt is the Head of the UFS Writing Centre and the Coordinator of the Initiative for Creative African Narratives (iCAN). Before joining the UFS in 2014 he was the Community Editor of News24.com. 

News Archive

Media: Sunday Times
2006-05-20

Sunday Times, 4 June 2006

True leadership may mean admitting disunity
 

In this edited extract from the inaugural King Moshoeshoe Memorial Lecture at the University of the Free State, Professor Njabulo S Ndebele explores the leadership challenges facing South Africa

RECENT events have created a sense that we are undergoing a serious crisis of leadership in our new democracy. An increasing number of highly intelligent, sensitive and committed South Africans, across class, racial and cultural spectrums, confess to feeling uncertain and vulnerable as never before since 1994.

When indomitable optimists confess to having a sense of things unhinging, the misery of anxiety spreads. We have the sense that events are spiralling out of control and that no one among the leadership of the country seems to have a definitive handle on things.

There can be nothing more debilitating than a generalised and undefined sense of anxiety in the body politic. It breeds conspiracies and fear.

There is an impression that a very complex society has developed, in the last few years, a rather simple, centralised governance mechanism in the hope that delivery can be better and more quickly driven. The complexity of governance then gets located within a single structure of authority rather than in the devolved structures envisaged in the Constitution, which should interact with one another continuously, and in response to their specific settings, to achieve defined goals. Collapse in a single structure of authority, because there is no robust backup, can be catastrophic.

The autonomy of devolved structures presents itself as an impediment only when visionary cohesion collapses. Where such cohesion is strong, the impediment is only illusory, particularly when it encourages healthy competition, for example, among the provinces, or where a province develops a character that is not necessarily autonomous politically but rather distinctive and a special source of regional pride. Such competition brings vibrancy to the country. It does not necessarily challenge the centre.

Devolved autonomy is vital in the interests of sustainable governance. The failure of various structures to actualise their constitutionally defined roles should not be attributed to the failure of the prescribed governance mechanism. It is too early to say that what we have has not worked. The only viable corrective will be in our ability to be robust in identifying the problems and dealing with them concertedly.

We have never had social cohesion in South Africa — certainly not since the Natives’ Land Act of 1913. What we definitely have had over the decades is a mobilising vision. Could it be that the mobilising vision, mistaken for social cohesion, is cracking under the weight of the reality and extent of social reconstruction, and that the legitimate framework for debating these problems is collapsing? If that is so, are we witnessing a cumulative failure of leadership?

I am making a descriptive rather than an evaluative inquiry. I do not believe that there is any single entity to be blamed. It is simply that we may be a country in search of another line of approach. What will it be?

I would like to suggest two avenues of approach — an inclusive model and a counter-intuitive model of leadership.

In an inclusive approach, leadership is exercised not only by those who have been put in some position of power to steer an organisation or institution. Leadership is what all of us do when we express, sincerely, our deepest feelings and thoughts; when we do our work, whatever it is, with passion and integrity.

Counter-intuitive leadership lies in the ability of leaders to read a problematic situation, assess probable outcomes and then recognise that those outcomes will only compound the problem. Genuine leadership, in this sense, requires going against probability in seeking unexpected outcomes. That’s what happened when we avoided a civil war and ended up with an “unexpected” democracy.

Right now, we may very well hear desperate calls for unity, when the counter-intuitive imperative would be to acknowledge disunity. A declaration of unity where it manifestly does not appear to exist will fail to reassure.

Many within the “broad alliance” might have the view that the mobilising vision of old may have transformed into a strategy of executive steering with a disposition towards an expectation of compliance. No matter how compelling the reasons for that tendency, it may be seen as part of a cumulative process in which popular notions of democratic governance are apparently undermined and devalued; and where public uncertainty in the midst of seeming crisis induces fear which could freeze public thinking at a time when more voices ought to be heard.

Could it be that part of the problem is that we are unable to deal with the notion of opposition? We are horrified that any of us could be seen to have become “the opposition”. The word has been demonised. In reality, it is time we began to anticipate the arrival of a moment when there is no longer a single, overwhelmingly dominant political force as is currently the case. Such is the course of history. The measure of the maturity of the current political environment will be in how it can create conditions that anticipate that moment rather than seek to prevent it. We see here once more the essential creativity of the counter-intuitive imperative.

This is the formidable challenge of a popular post-apartheid political movement. Can it conceptually anticipate a future when it is no longer overwhelmingly in control, in the form in which it is currently, and resist, counter-intuitively, the temptation to prevent such an eventuality? Successfully resisting such an option would enable its current vision and its ultimate legacy to our country to manifest in different articulations, which then contend for social influence. In this way, the vision never really dies; it simply evolves into higher, more complex forms of itself. Consider the metaphor of flying ants replicating the ant community by establishing new ones.

We may certainly experience the meaning of comradeship differently, where we will now have “comrades on the other side”.

Any political movement that imagines itself as a perpetual entity should look at the compelling evidence of history. Few movements have survived those defining moments when they should have been more elastic, and that because they were not, did not live to see the next day.

I believe we may have reached a moment not fundamentally different from the sobering, yet uplifting and vision-making, nation-building realities that led to Kempton Park in the early ’90s. The difference between then and now is that the black majority is not facing white compatriots across the negotiating table. Rather, it is facing itself: perhaps really for the first time since 1994. Could we apply to ourselves the same degree of inventiveness and rigorous negotiation we displayed leading up to the adoption or our Constitution?

This is not a time for repeating old platitudes. It is the time, once more, for vision.

In the total scheme of things, the outcome could be as disastrous as it could be formative and uplifting, setting in place the conditions for a true renaissance that could be sustained for generations to come.

Ndebele is Vice-Chancellor of the University of Cape Town and author of the novel The Cry of Winnie Mandela

We use cookies to make interactions with our websites and services easy and meaningful. To better understand how they are used, read more about the UFS cookie policy. By continuing to use this site you are giving us your consent to do this.

Accept