A British scholar created something that seemed more like a joke than a teaching tool sometime around 2000. Through his website theory.org.uk, David Gauntlett, who was at the time gaining recognition as a perceptive and unorthodox thinker on media and identity, introduced a series of trading cards. Each card included a name, a brief biography, a cropped portrait, and what Gauntlett called a “special skill.” The format blatantly appropriated the culture of football stickers. The content originated in the most complex areas of cultural theory. Most likely, it shouldn’t have worked at all.
And yet here we are, over twenty years later, with tutors laminating copies for seminar rooms and students still searching for PDFs of those original sheets.
Gauntlett appeared to understand that theory intimidates people before it enlightens them, either instinctively or with more calculation than he disclosed. Stuart Hall and Roland Barthes are not particularly conducive to light reading. Just enough of that institutional weight is removed when they are displayed on something that resembles a collectible with a “special skill” listed beneath their name. Perhaps more pedagogical work is done by the format than by the content. It is difficult to say. However, the reader-idea relationship is altered by holding a card instead of staring at a page with footnotes.
For many years, the cards were available on theory.org.uk, and they gradually became a mainstay of UK A-level Media Studies preparation. They were almost unintentionally found by teachers, who tucked printouts into lesson packs and suggested them to students in need of quick but important review material. They never appeared to be aggressively marketed by Gauntlett. Word-of-mouth, staff rooms, and the unique desperation of a student the night before an exam are some of the ways they spread.
When Gauntlett eventually removed his old websites, including theory.org.uk, he almost casually mentioned that he had heard from someone who was upset about the cards going missing almost immediately. So the PDFs went up. Two sheets. A total of twelve cards. theories about representation, gender, and identity. Really, it’s a tiny archive. However, the response to almost losing it showed that these cards had actually embedded themselves somewhere.
The Judith Butler card has developed an odd life of its own. Butler’s theories on gender performativity, which dominate scholarly bookshelves and postgraduate seminars, are condensed into a collectible format that has an almost humorous quality. Students seem to retain that one, though. Even after graduation. It’s difficult to ignore what that suggests about how people learn and retain information.
All of this is connected to Gauntlett’s broader work on identity and how the media shapes people’s sense of self. When you take into account that the cards themselves turned into a sort of tool, his claim that media gives people the means to create their own identities seems especially pertinent. Not only to pass tests, but also to keep in mind that these intellectuals weren’t monuments with footnotes but rather, in a fundamental sense, people with ideas.
Observing how these cards have endured gives the impression that the most resilient educational materials are seldom those created with permanence in mind. They are the ones that, despite the somewhat ridiculous packaging, are made with a little irreverence, humor, and a sincere belief that the ideas are worth sharing. It’s really unclear if Gauntlett anticipated all of this. The cards are still here, though. Additionally, students continue to reach for them.
