Critical AI Engagement Framework, Versions 1.0 and 1.4 (scroll down…)
NB: This page was original published 24 March 2026, and has since been updated on 21 May 2026 to reflect the latest framework iteration.
This framework draws on Hosseini's (2026) forthcoming paper in The Geographical Journal, which examines how generative AI tools reproduce racial, gendered, and class-based representations through algorithmic coloniality (Mohamed et al., 2020). That work demonstrates how seemingly neutral prompts encode dominant cultural assumptions, producing outputs that reflect and reinforce existing inequalities.
The Critical AI Engagement Framework extends this analysis into a practical pedagogical tool, mapping how individuals engage with generative AI across two axes: epistemic posture and structural consciousness. It is designed for use across educational contexts, supporting educators and learners in moving beyond prompt refinement toward critical, collective, and structurally informed engagement with AI systems.
April 2026 update: the paper informing this framework has now been published and is available below
Hosseini, D. D. 2026. “Generative AI: A Problematic Illustration of the Intersections of Race, Gender and Class.” The Geographical Journal 192, no. 2: e70085. https://doi.org/10.1111/geoj.70085.
Generative AI tools are now embedded in higher education, used to draft text, generate images, produce code, and synthesise research. Yet these tools are not neutral. They encode the assumptions, hierarchies, and exclusions of the data they were trained on, reproducing patterns of racial, gendered, and class-based harm even as their outputs become more sophisticated (Benjamin, 2019; Mohamed et al., 2020; Noble, 2018). Understanding how students engage with these tools, and what that engagement does or does not interrogate, is therefore an urgent task for educators.
The Critical AI Engagement Framework maps educational engagement with generative AI across two axes. The horizontal axis describes an individual’s epistemic posture toward AI: from treating its outputs as authoritative, through questioning them, to recognising the colonial and structural conditions that shape what AI knows, whose knowledge it centres, and what it silences (Hosseini, 2026; Maalsen, 2023). The vertical axis describes how far an individual recognises AI as a socio-technical artefact shaped by relations of power, rather than simply a tool with fixable flaws (Benjamin, 2019; Quijano, 2000; Zembylas, 2023). The positions individuals occupy are not freely chosen but reflect the institutional, curricular, and social conditions that shape how they learn and work. The framework’s aspiration is not a more capable individual user but collective action: sustained, community-grounded engagement that works toward structural change (Camacho Felix, 2025; Mohamed et al., 2020).
neutral & apolitical
lacks systemic account
coloniality & harm
Critical AI Engagement Framework Version 1.4
This version adds in the researcher lens and concepts such as epistemic accountability and the research lifecycle.
Generative AI tools are now embedded in higher education, used to draft text, generate images, produce code, and synthesise research. Yet these tools are not neutral. They encode the assumptions, hierarchies, and exclusions of the data they were trained on, reproducing patterns of racial, gendered, and class-based harm even as their outputs become more sophisticated (Benjamin, 2019; Mohamed et al., 2020; Noble, 2018). Understanding how students engage with these tools, and what that engagement does or does not interrogate, is therefore an urgent task for educators.
The Critical AI Engagement Framework maps educational engagement with generative AI across two axes. The horizontal axis describes an individual’s epistemic posture toward AI: from treating its outputs as authoritative, through questioning them, to recognizing the colonial and structural conditions that shape what AI knows, whose knowledge it centers, and what it silences (Hosseini, 2026; Maalsen, 2023). The vertical axis describes how far an individual recognizes AI as a socio-technical artefact shaped by relations of power, rather than simply a tool with fixable flaws (Benjamin, 2019; Quijano, 2000; Zembylas, 2023). The positions individuals occupy are not freely chosen but reflect the institutional, curricular, and social conditions that shape how they learn and work. The framework’s aspiration is not a more capable individual user but collective action: sustained, community-grounded engagement that works toward structural change (Camacho Felix, 2025; Mohamed et al., 2020).
neutral & apolitical
lacks systemic account
coloniality & harm
This view reframes the framework for researchers engaging with generative AI across the research process. The two applied sections in each cell address the researcher's own practice and the dimension of epistemic accountability — a concept that holds together citational justice (the obligation to credit ideas and intellectual labour whether or not they appear in a formal reference list) and research integrity (the obligation to be transparent about the conditions, limitations, and role of AI in knowledge production). Together they ask: is this knowledge claim accountable — to its sources, its methods, and the communities it draws on?
Positions are not fixed. A researcher may occupy different cells across different phases of the research lifecycle, and across different relationships — with their own field, with collaborators, with communities whose knowledge they draw on.
neutral & apolitical
lacks systemic account
coloniality & harm
This view adds epistemic accountability as a fourth dimension alongside the original three sections. Epistemic accountability holds together two obligations that AI use makes newly urgent: citational justice — recognising whose ideas are absorbed through AI-mediated synthesis and naming intellectual contributions that fall outside formal citation conventions — and research integrity — being transparent about the conditions, limitations, and role of AI in knowledge production. Neither subordinates the other. Citational justice asks whose labour is acknowledged; research integrity asks whether the conditions of production are honestly disclosed. Together they ask: is this knowledge claim accountable — to its sources, its methods, and the communities it draws on?
This view preserves the educational framing (theoretical anchor, for educators, for students) and adds epistemic accountability as a cross-cutting dimension that applies regardless of whether the user is a researcher, educator, or student. AI use in educational contexts raises the same questions of intellectual credit, attribution transparency, and relational accountability as it does in formal research.
neutral & apolitical
lacks systemic account
coloniality & harm
This view maps AI engagement across the research lifecycle, tracing how epistemic posture — from deference to collective agency — manifests differently at each phase of research practice. Each phase carries distinct risks and possibilities: the literature and framing phase is where AI most aggressively shapes what counts as relevant scholarship; methodology and design is where colonial defaults in AI recommendations become embedded in the research architecture; data and evidence is where AI's training hierarchies most directly affect what gets surfaced and what gets buried; analysis and interpretation is where AI can flatten the conceptual moves that distinguish critical from descriptive work; writing and synthesis is where citational erasure is most invisible; and publication and dissemination is where structural change is most possible — and most resisted.
The epistemic accountability dimension (gold) runs through all phases but intensifies toward dissemination. It addresses two obligations simultaneously: citational justice — whose intellectual labour is acknowledged, including named authors, unnamed collaborators, community knowledge, conversations, and ideas that circulate before they are published — and research integrity — transparent disclosure of how AI was used, what it could not see, and what structural conditions shaped the knowledge produced. Both are present at every phase; the balance between them shifts as the research progresses.
The phase where AI most aggressively determines whose scholarship counts as foundational. Epistemic deference here shapes the entire conceptual architecture of the research.
AI methodology recommendations embed epistemological defaults — which methods count as rigorous, whose frameworks are treated as standard — that shape what the research can find before data collection begins.
AI's training hierarchies directly affect what gets surfaced and what gets buried. At this phase, algorithmic coloniality is most materially consequential — shaping whose experiences, voices, and data are treated as valid evidence.
AI analysis flattens complexity and forecloses interpretive possibilities. The conceptual moves that distinguish critical from descriptive research are most at risk here — as AI tends toward synthesis, consensus, and the resolution of tension.
Citational erasure is most invisible at this phase. AI-assisted writing absorbs ideas, framings, and formulations without tracing them to their origins — and researchers may not notice because the output reads as their own.
The phase where structural change is most possible and most resisted. Publishing choices — venue, format, access, co-authorship conventions — are themselves political acts that reproduce or challenge the knowledge hierarchies AI encodes.
Listening, Speaking, Learning: On Verbal Feedback and (Re)Humanizing Assessment
Sunset over Queens Park pond, Glasgow, UK
Recently, I listened to a podcast from 2022, Educatalks: Reflective Practice featuring Professor Melaine Coward, a professor of medical education reflect on her career and her commitment to reflective practice. Medical Educatalks is a podcast created by the Developing Medical Educators Group (DMEG) at the Academy of Medical Educators. Toward the end of the conversation, she described her decision to give students verbal feedback on their assessments. The interviewer sounded genuinely surprised, he hadn’t encountered that approach before.
I paused.
Not because it felt novel, but because it felt familiar.
In 2015, while teaching at a University of London institution, I experimented with providing verbal feedback on written assignments. At the time, our digital marking platform enabled tutors to attach audio recordings directly to students’ scripts, so feedback could be posted alongside the written work itself. Students could either listen asynchronously or book a short follow-up slot to discuss it further. I would have their script in front of me as I recorded or spoke with them, talking through strengths, misunderstandings, and next steps. It was dialogic, immediate, and relational, but it was not universally welcomed.
The pushback was swift and couched in procedural language:
How could this be standardized?
How could it be moderated?
Where was the audit trail?
Ironically, the digital system did generate an artefact. The audio file was stored alongside the script. There was a record. And yet the discomfort persisted. What seemed to trouble colleagues was not the absence of documentation, but the presence of voice, with its tone, inflection, and spontaneity. Feedback had become less easily reduced to a static text block. The underlying concern was not simply technical. It was cultural. Feedback, in this framing, was not primarily a pedagogical encounter, it was a compliance mechanism.
Listening to Coward years later, I realized something I could not fully articulate back then: verbal feedback is not merely a technique. It is an epistemological stance. It is a small but meaningful act of (re)humanising assessment.
“But what I found was, so they weren’t reading the comments that I’d spent ages putting on marking there, because I do spend time, it matters that I give good feedback. When I did recorded feedback, I found I had a lot more follow-up from students, because they had had to listen to my feedback, and it was a very clear message of, I really enjoyed this, something for you to think about. I would be quite structured in how I recorded it, so I had notes, so it was formulaic in that sense, but not rehearsed.”
Feedback as encounter, not transmission
Higher education assessment cultures are deeply shaped by what Paulo Freire famously critiqued as the “banking model” of education in Pedagogy of the Oppressed. In that model, knowledge is deposited; feedback becomes a written correction of deficits; learning is framed as remediation.
Written feedback, of course, can be thoughtful and transformative. But it often operates within systems that prioritize defensibility over dialogue. Comments are calibrated for external examiners. Language becomes cautious. Tone becomes formal and neutralized. The student becomes a case.
Audio feedback, even when delivered asynchronously through a digital platform, subtly shifts that dynamic. Students hear emphasis. They hear encouragement. They hear uncertainty where appropriate. Meaning is shaped not only by what is said, but how it is said.
And when audio is paired with optional follow-up conversation, feedback becomes dialogic in a deeper sense. Students can respond, query, reinterpret.
This resonates with Freire’s insistence on dialogue as the foundation of emancipatory education. It also aligns with bell hooks’ vision of engaged pedagogy in Teaching to Transgress, where teaching and learning are relational acts rather than one-way transmissions.
When we speak with students rather than at them, feedback becomes less about surveillance and more about growth. Voice, literal voice, reintroduces presence into assessment by (re)humanizing it.
The standardization question
The resistance I encountered in 2015 revolved around standardisation. Written comments were seen as stable, recordable, and therefore fair. Audio feedback, even though stored and retrievable, was viewed as potentially variable.
But here is the uncomfortable truth: standardization is not synonymous with justice.
Critical and decolonial scholars have long questioned whose norms assessment criteria encode. Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, in Decolonising the Mind, reminds us that language and evaluation are never neutral; they are embedded within colonial power structures. Similarly, scholars of antiracist pedagogy argue that assessment practices often privilege dominant linguistic and epistemic norms and performances.
Audio feedback can surface some of this hidden curriculum. It allows educators to unpack what we mean by “criticality” or “coherence” in accessible, responsive ways. It can soften deficit framings by conveying nuance and care. It can make tacit expectations explicit.
For neurodivergent students, multilingual students, or those unfamiliar with disciplinary conventions, hearing feedback, with tone and pacing, can support comprehension in ways that dense written comments may not.
Uniform delivery formats may be easier to audit. But equity sometimes requires responsiveness.
Reflective practice and professional identity
Coward’s framing of verbal feedback emerged from reflective practice, a concept often associated with Donald Schön and his work The Reflective Practitioner. Reflection is not merely about improving technique; it is about interrogating the assumptions that underpin our actions.
Looking back, I can see that my 2015 experience exposed a tension between two logics and a clash of paradigms:
Assessment as pedagogical relationship / Was feedback a compliance mechanism or a pedagogical relationship?
Assessment as quality assurance infrastructure / Was my role to produce defensible documentation or to cultivate understanding?
The digital tool itself was neutral. It could host text or voice. The debate was about what counted as legitimate academic labor and legitimate evidence of fairness.
Reflective practice asks us to interrogate not only how we teach, but why certain practices are normalized while others are treated as suspect.
(Re)humanizing assessment in digital spaces
In my current work, including conversations around decolonizing curricula and rethinking assessment, I often return to a simple question:
What would assessment look like if we centered humanity rather than auditability?
This is not an argument to abandon rigor or documentation. Rather, it is a call to re-balance priorities.
(Re)humanizing assessment might include:
Dialogic feedback conversations alongside written summaries
Audio or video feedback that conveys tone and relational presence
Opportunities for students to respond to feedback
Co-constructed criteria discussions
Assessment designs that value multiple ways of knowing
These moves resonate with broader critical pedagogical commitments: resisting neoliberal metrics, challenging deficit framings, and recognizing students as co-participants in knowledge production. These moves further resonate with critical pedagogy’s insistence on dialogue, with antiracist commitments to challenging hidden norms, and with decolonial calls to unsettle inherited hierarchies of knowledge.
They also align with emerging scholarship on compassionate pedagogy and relational assessment cultures within higher education.
“Hearing someone talk about what you’ve done, the tone and voice to highlight praise, concern, and you can add in a more questioning tone ... They loved it. They loved it because they could hear from my touch. ”
An epiphany, years later: are our systems human enough?
Listening to Coward describe her practice, I felt both affirmed and reflective. The surprise expressed by the podcast interviewer revealed how deeply entrenched written, standardized feedback remains. Yet the fact that such practices continue to surface across disciplines, from medical education to the humanities, suggests a quiet shift. I also felt less concerned with whether verbal feedback is innovative and more interested in what it reveals. What I once framed defensively as “innovative feedback” now feels more clearly like a small act of resistance against depersonalized academic systems.
Even when captured and archived in a digital platform, voice unsettles the fantasy that assessment can be entirely standardised and neutral. It reintroduces tone, care, and relational accountability.
Perhaps the question is not whether audio feedback can be moderated.
Perhaps the more urgent question is whether our assessment cultures allow space for humanity, for dialogue, for nuance, for recognition.
If critical, antiracist, and decolonial pedagogies ask us to re-centre people rather than processes, then even something as simple as attaching a recorded voice note to a script can become a quietly radical act.
Suggested further reading
Pedagogy of the Oppressed – Paulo Freire
Teaching to Transgress – bell hooks
Decolonising the Mind – Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o
A Handbook of Reflective and Experiential Learning – Jennifer A. Moon
The Reflective Practitioner – Donald Schön
And, of course, I would recommend listening to Educatalks: Reflective Practice featuring Melaine Coward, not because verbal feedback is revolutionary, but because reflective conversations about practice remind us that teaching is, at its heart, relational work.
In a sector increasingly governed by metrics, that reminder feels quietly radical.