Archive for the ‘General Management’ Category
The system and the lifeworld: a note on the gap between work and life
Introduction
Regardless of how much we enjoy our work, there is a distinct disconnect between our professional and personal/social lives. A major reason for this gap is the (perceived) degree of control we have over what we do in the two spheres: in the former, we generally do as we are required to, even if we don’t agree with it; in the latter we (generally) follow our own interests and wishes.
In this post I explore the gap between the two worlds using the ideas of the social theorist and philosopher Juergen Habermas. My discussion draws upon a couple of sources: a short and very readable book by James Finlayson entitled, Habermas: A Very Short Introduction and a considerably heavier (but very enlightening) text by Mats Alvesson and Hugh Willmott entitled, Making Sense of Management: A Critical Introduction.
Communicative and strategic action
Juergen Habermas is best known for his theory of communicative rationality, wherein he argues that rationality (or reason) is tied to social interactions and dialogue. In other words, the exercise of reason ought to occur through open debate that is free from the constraints of power and politics. For a more detailed discussion of communicative rationality in an organisational setting, see my post entitled, More than just talk: rational dialogue in project environments or Chapter 7 of the book I wrote with Paul Culmsee.
Habermas terms collective actions that arise as a consequence of such dialogue communicative action. These are cooperative actions based on a shared understanding of the particular issue under consideration. The point Habermas makes is that many (most?) of the collective actions that we undertake in our work lives are not communicative because they are aimed at achieving a particular outcome regardless of whether or not there is any shared understanding about the objective or the means by which it should be achieved. Habermas terms such actions strategic.
To sum up: actions that are carried out in the professional sphere are invariably strategic, whereas those that are performed in the social/personal sphere can be communicative.
The system and the lifeworld
As mentioned in the first line of this post, our day-to-day lives are played out in two distinct spheres: the social arena which comprises our interactions with family and society at large, and the professional and administrative sphere in which we work and/or interact with institutional authority. Habermas refers to the former as the lifeworld and the latter as the system.
The lifeworld is the everyday world that we share with others. This includes all aspects of life barring organised or institution-driven ones. For example, it includes family life, culture and informal social interactions. In short: it is the sphere within which we lead much of our social and personal life. The lifeworld is based on a tacit fund of shared meanings and understandings that enable us to perform actions that we know others will comprehend. Thus day-to-day actions that we perform in the lifeworld are generally communicative in nature.
In contrast, the system refers to common patterns of strategic action that serve the interests of institutions and organisations. System actions are essentially driven by money and power. To put it somewhat crudely, the system uses money and power to manipulate individuals to achieve its own (i.e. the system’s) aims. These generally do not coincide with aims of individuals. The term instrumental action is used to describe actions via which individuals are manipulated in this way. Clearly, such actions are related to strategic actions, since they are aimed at achieving specific ends, regardless of whether or not there is a common understanding underlying the objectives.
The relationship between the system and the lifeworld
Historically, the system arose from prevailing social conditions of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The system is therefore embedded in the lifeworld. This wouldn’t be a problem if it weren’t for the fact that the system grows at the expense of the lifeworld , or in Habermas’ words, colonises the lifeworld. The verb evokes images that are quite appropriate: at a personal level, many people struggle to find that mythical balance between their work and personal/social lives, and in most cases it is a losing struggle because the former intrudes upon, invades and eventually takes over the latter.
This has little to do with personal choice. Although there are those who would say that we are free to opt out of the rat race, the truth is that most of us aren’t. To understand how things come to be this way, one has to recognise the role that power and money play in the colonisation process. These foster a self-interested “rational” attitude towards value which makes people amenable to being manipulated. Those who hold power and purse-strings can thus exert undue influence on the decisions of stakeholders while bypassing consensus-oriented communication (or rational dialogue) that is characteristic of the lifeworld. The lifeworld is thus devalued and becomes less and less important in the daily lives of people.
The colonisation of the lifeworld results in several dysfunctions that are all too evident in modern-day professional life. At the workplace this can manifest itself through a general sense of alienation from organisation, and a lack of shared meaning of its purpose and goals.
Critics of the Habermasian view sometimes argue that the modern day organisation is more enlightened – for example, HR departments are now aware of the need to foster an appropriate culture that focuses on employee inclusiveness, empowerment and similar feel-good themes. However, as Wilmott and Alvesson warn in their book, the concept of organisational culture is but an insidious means of control that aims at getting employees to think in ways that the organisation would like them to (also see this paper by Wilmott – if only for its truly memorable title…)
The problem with management practice
Notwithstanding the fact that there are islands of enlightened management, it would not be a stretch to say that many managerial strategies and actions serve to perpetuate, even grow the system at the expense of the lifeworld. As Alvesson and Willmott state in their book:
Within the rationality of the system individuals are treated as numbers or categories (e.g. grades of employees determined by qualifications, or types of clients determined by market segments), and more generally as objects whose value lies in reproducing the system….
However, the instrumental logic of the system – i.e. the logic which “justifies” the manipulation of individuals – is ultimately self-defeating. As Alvesson and Willmott note:
The devaluation of lifeworld properties is perverse because the instrumental rationality of the system depends on the communicative rationality of the lifeworld, even though it appears to function independently of lifeworld understandings and competences. At the very least, the system depends upon human beings who are capable of communicating effectively and who are not manipulated and demoralized to the point of being incapable of cooperation and productivity.
The central problem of present day management practice is that this issue remains largely unaddressed.
A way forward?
To be fair, it is impossible to achieve open dialogue in the sense of Habermas at the level of, say, an organisation. Nevertheless, as Paul and I discuss in our book, it is eminently possible to approximate it in smaller settings over short time periods. In case you don’t have a copy of our book at hand, see our paper entitled, Towards a holding environment: building shared understanding and commitment on projects, for a detailed case study illustrating this point.
Before going any further, I should state clearly that the approach we propose is but one of many. One does not have to use any particular technique or approach, all one needs is the possibility of engaging in genuine dialogue with those who have a stake in the issue under consideration. This needs an environment that is (relatively) free from power, politics and other constraints that come in the way of open, honest discussion. Although it is impossible to create such an environment at an organisational level, it is quite possible to approximate it at on a smaller scale – say, for example, in a one-on-one interaction or even a workgroup discussion.
Interactions that occur in such a holding environment are a step forward from present day practice because they acknowledge the existence of the lifeworld, something that has long been denied by mainstream management.
Summing up
In their book, Alvesson and Wilmott use the metaphor of organisations as structures of communicative interactions. In our paper and book, we invoke an alternate metaphor coined by Terry Winograd and Fernando Flores: organisations as networks of commitments. Genuine commitments are possible only when people’s concerns and aspirations are heard, acknowledged and acted upon. And this is possible only via communicative or open dialogue.
In closing, I reiterate my main point: although it is impossible to create an environment that encourages genuine dialogue at the level of an entire organisation, it is certainly possible approximate it on a smaller scale. The importance of this cannot be overstated, for although one cannot change the system overnight one can bring it closer to the lifeworld, one interaction at a time.
On the shortcomings of cause-effect based models in management
Introduction
Business schools perpetuate the myth that the outcomes of changes in organizations can be managed using models that are rooted in the scientific-rational mode of enquiry. In essence, such models assume that all important variables that affect an outcome (i.e. causes) are known and that the relationship between these variables and the outcomes (i.e. effects) can be represented accurately by simple models. This is the nature of explanation in the hard sciences such as physics and is pretty much the official line adopted by mainstream management research and teaching – a point I have explored at length in an earlier post.
Now it is far from obvious that a mode of explanation that works for physics will also work for management. In fact, there is enough empirical evidence that most cause-effect based management models do not work in the real world. Many front-line employees and middle managers need no proof because they have likely lived through failures of such models in their organisations- for example, when the unintended consequences of organisational change swamp its intended (or predicted) effects.
In this post I look at the missing element in management models – human intentions – drawing on this paper by Sumantra Ghoshal which explores three different modes of explanation that were elaborated by Jon Elster in this book. My aim in doing this is to highlight the key reason why so many management initiatives fail.
Types of explanations
According to Elster, the nature of what we can reasonably expect from an explanation differs in the natural and social sciences. Furthermore, within the natural sciences, what constitutes an explanation differs in the physical and biological sciences.
Let’s begin with the difference between physics and biology first.
The dominant mode of explanation in physics (and other sciences that deal with inanimate matter) is causal – i.e. it deals with causes and effects as I have described in the introduction. For example, the phenomenon of gravity is explained as being caused by the presence of matter, the precise relationship being expressed via Newton’s Law of Gravitation (or even more accurately, via Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity). Gravity is “explained” by these models because they tell us that it is caused by the presence of matter. More important, if we know the specific configuration of matter in a particular problem, we can accurately predict the effects of gravity – our success in sending unmanned spacecraft to Saturn or Mars depends rather crucially on this.
In biology, the nature of explanation is somewhat different. When studying living creatures we don’t look for causes and effects. Instead we look for explanations based on function. For example, zoologists do not need to ask how amphibians came to have webbed feet; it is enough for them to know that webbed feet are an adaptation that affords amphibians a survival advantage. They need look no further than this explanation because it is consistent with the Theory of Evolution – that changes in organisms occur by chance, and those that survive do so because they offer the organism a survival advantage. There is no need to look for a deeper explanation in terms of cause and effect.
In social sciences the situation is very different indeed. The basic unit of explanation in the social sciences is the individual. But an individual is different from an inanimate object or even a non-human organism that reacts to specific stimuli in predictable ways. The key difference is that human actions are guided by intentions, and any explanation of social phenomena ought to start from these intentions.
For completeness I should mention that functional and causal explanations are sometimes possible within the social sciences and management. Typically functional explanations are possible in tightly controlled environments. For example, the behaviour and actions of people working within large bureaucracies or assembly lines can be understood on the basis of function. Causal explanations are even rarer, because they are possible only when focusing on the collective behaviour of large, diverse populations in which the effects of individual intentions are swamped by group diversity. In such special cases, people can indeed be treated as molecules or atoms.
Implications for management
There a couple of interesting implications of restoring intentionality to its rightful place in management studies.
Firstly, as Ghoshal states in his paper:
Management theories at present are overwhelmingly causal or functional in their modes of explanation. Ethics or morality, however, are mental phenomena. As a result they have had to be excluded from our theories and from the practices that such theories have shaped. In other words, a precondition for making business studies a science as well as a consequence of the resulting belief in determinism has been the explicit denial of any role of moral or ethical considerations in the practice of management
Present day management studies exclude considerations of morals and ethics, except, possibly, as a separate course that has little relation to the other subjects that form a part of the typical business school curriculum. Recognising the role of intentionality restores ethical and moral considerations where they belong – on the centre-stage of management theory and practice.
Secondly, recognizing the role of intentions in determining peoples’ actions helps us see that organizational changes that “start from where people are” have a much better chance of succeeding than those that are initiated top-down with little or no consultation with rank and file employees. Unfortunately the large majority of organizational change initiatives still start from the wrong place – the top.
Summing up
Most management practices that are taught in business schools and practiced by the countless graduates of these programs are rooted in the belief that certain actions (causes) will lead to specific, desired outcomes (effects). In this article I have discussed how explanations based on cause-effect models, though good for understanding the behaviour of molecules and possibly even mice, are misleading in the world of humans. To achieve sustainable and enduring outcomes in organisation one has to start from where people are, and to do that one has to begin by taking their opinions and aspirations seriously.
All models are wrong, some models are harmful
Introduction
One of the ways in which we attempt to understand and explain natural and social phenomena is by building models of them. A model is a representation of a real-world phenomenon, and since the real world is messy, models are generally based on a number of simplifying assumptions. It is worth noting that models may be mathematical but they do not have to be – I present examples of both types of models in this article.
In this post I make two points:
- That all models are incomplete and are therefore wrong.
- That certain models are not only wrong, but can have harmful consequences if used thoughtlessly. In particular I will discuss a model of human behaviour that is widely taught and used in management practice, much to the detriment of organisations.
Before going any further I should clarify that I don’t “prove” that all models are wrong; that is likely an impossible task. Instead, I use an example to illustrate some general features of models which strongly suggest that no model can possibly account for all aspects of a phenomenon. Following that I discuss how models of human behaviour must be used with caution because they can have harmful consequences.
All models are wrong
Since models are based on simplifying assumptions, they can at best be only incomplete representations of reality. It seems reasonable to expect that all models will breakdown at some point because they are not reality. In this section, I illustrate this looking at a real-world example drawn from the king of natural sciences, physics.
Theoretical physicists build mathematical models that describe natural phenomena. Sir Isaac Newton was a theoretical physicist par excellence. Among other things, he hypothesized that the force that keeps the earth in orbit around the sun is the same as the one that keeps our feet firmly planted on the ground. Based on observational inferences made by Johannes Kepler, Newton also figured out that the force is inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them. That is: if the distance between two bodies is doubled, the gravitational force between them decreases four-fold. For those who are interested, there is a nice explanation of Newton’s law of gravitation here.
Newton’s law tells us the precise nature of the force of attraction between two bodies. It is universal in that it applies to all things that have a mass, regardless of the specific material they are made of. It’s utility is well established: among other things, it enables astronomers and engineers to predict the trajectories of planets, satellites and spacecraft to extraordinary accuracy; on the flip side it also enables war mongers to compute the trajectories of missiles. Newton’s law of gravitation has been tested innumerable times since it was proposed in the late 1700s, and it has passed with flying colours every time.
Yet, strictly speaking, it is wrong.
To understand why, we need to understand what it means to explain something. I’ll discuss this somewhat philosophical issue by sticking with gravity. Newton’s law enables us to predict the effects of gravity, but it does not tell us what gravity actually is. Yes, it’s a force, but what exactly is this force? How does it manifest itself? What is it that passes between two bodies to make them “aware” of each other’s existence?
Newton is silent on all these questions.
An explanation had to wait for a century and a half. In 1914 Einstein proposed that every body that has mass creates a distortion of space (actually space and time) around it. He formalised this idea in his General Theory of Relativity which tells us that gravity is a consequence of the curvature of space-time.
This is difficult to visualise, so perhaps an analogy will help. Think of space-time as a flat rubber sheet. A marble on the sheet causes a depression (or curvature) in the vicinity of the marble. Another marble close enough would sense the curvature and would tend to roll towards the original marble. To an observer who wasn’t aware of the curvature (imagine the rubber sheet to be invisible) the marbles would appear to be attracted to each other. Yet at a deeper level, the attraction is simply a consequence of geometry. In this sense then, Einstein’s theory “explains” gravity at a more fundamental level than Newton’s law does.
Now, one of the predictions of Einstein’s theory is that the force of gravitation is ever so slightly different from that predicted by Newton’s law. This difference is so small that it is unnoticeable in the case of spacecraft or even planets, but it does make a difference in the case of dense, massive bodies such as black holes. Many experiments have confirmed that Einstein’s theory is more accurate than Newton’s.
So Newton was wrong.
However, the story doesn’t end there because Einstein was wrong too. It turns out, that Einstein’s theory of gravitation is not consistent with Quantum Mechanics, the theory that describes the microworld of atoms and elementary particles. One of the open problems in theoretical physics is the development of a quantum theory of gravity. To be honest, I don’t know much at all about quantum gravity, so if you want to know more about this other holy grail of physics, I’ll refer you to Lee Smolin’s excellent book, Three Roads to Quantum Gravity.
Anyway, the point I wish to make is not that these luminaries were wrong but that the limitations of their models were in a sense inevitable. Why? Well, because our knowledge of the real world is never complete, it is forever work in progress. We build models based on what we know at a given time, which in turn is based on our current state of knowledge and the empirical data that supports it. The world, however, is much more complex than our limited powers of reasoning and observation , even if these are enhanced by instruments. Consequently any models that we construct are necessarily incomplete – and therefore, wrong.
Some models are harmful
The foregoing brings me to the second point of this post.
There’s nothing wrong in being wrong, of course; especially if our understanding of the world is enhanced in the process. I would be quite happy to leave it there if that was all there was to it. The problem is that there is something more insidious and dangerous: some models are not only wrong, they are positively harmful.
And no, I’m not referring to nuclear weapons; nuclear fission by itself is neither benign nor dangerous, it is what we do with it that makes it so. I’m referring to something far more commonplace, a model that underpins much of modern day management: it is the notion that humans are largely rational beings who make decisions based solely on their narrow self-interest. According to this view of humans as economic beings, we are driven by material gain to the exclusion of all other considerations. This is a narrow, one-dimensional view of humans but is one that is legitimised by mainstream economics and has been adopted enthusiastically by many management schools and their alumni.
Among other things, those who subscribe to this model believe that:
- Employees are inherently untrustworthy because they will act in their own personal interests, with no consideration of the greater good. Consequently their performance needs to be carefully “incentivised” and monitored.
- Management’s goals should be to maximise profits. Consequently they should be “incentivised” by bonuses that are linked solely to profit earned.
These are harmful because
- Treating employees like potential shirkers who need to “motivated” by a carrot and stick policy will only demotivate them.
- Linking senior management bonuses to financial performance alone encourages managers to follow strategies that boost short term profits regardless of the long term consequences.
The fact of the matter is that humans are not atoms or planets; they can (and will) change their behaviour depending on how they are treated.
To sum up
All models are wrong, but some models – especially those relating to human behaviour – are harmful. The danger of taking models of human behaviour literally is that they tend become self fulfilling prophecies. As Eliyahu Goldratt once famously said, “Tell me how you measure me and I’ll tell you how I’ll behave.” Measure managers by the profits they generate and they’ll work to maximise profits to the detriment of longer-term sustainability, treat employees like soulless economic beings and they’ll end up behaving like the self-serving souls the organisation deserves.
Eight to Late 