“Dad’s driving” – a tale about meaning and context in communication
This post is inspired by a comment made by my elder son some years ago:
“Dad’s driving” he said.
A simple statement, one would think, with not much scope for ambiguity or misunderstanding. Yet, as I’ll discuss below, the two words had deeper implications than suggested by their mere dictionary meanings.
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The story begins in mid 2010, when I was driving my son Rohan back from a birthday party.
I’m not much a driver – I get behind the wheel only when I absolutely have to, and then too with some reluctance. The reason I was driving was that my dear wife (who does most of the driving in our household) was pregnant with our second child and just a few weeks away from the big day. She therefore thought it would be a good idea for me to get some driving practice as I would soon need to do a fair bit.
Back to the story: as we started the trip home, my son (all of seven and half at the time) said, “Dad, you should go by North Road, there’s a traffic light there, it will be easier for you to turn right.”
“Nah, I’ll go the shorter way.”
“Dad, the shorter way has no traffic light. It has a roundabout, you might have trouble making a right turn.” He sounded worried.
“Don’t worry, I can handle a simple right turn at a roundabout on a Sunday evening. You worry too much!”
As it happened I had an accident at the roundabout…and it was my fault.
I checked that he was OK then got out of the car to speak with the unfortunate whose car door I had dented. Rohan sat patiently in the car while I exchanged details with the other party.
I got back in and asked again if he was OK. He nodded. We set off and made it home without further incident.
My wife was horrified to hear about the whole thing of course. Being pretty philosophical about my ineptness at some of the taken-for-granted elements of modern existence, she calmed down very quickly. In her usual practical way she asked me if I had reported the accident to the police, which I hadn’t. I reported the accident and made an appointment with the a smash repairer to fix up the damage to the bumper.
A week later my wife summoned me from work saying it was time. I duly drove her to the hospital without incident. A few hours later, our second son, Vikram, was born.
I pick up the story again a few days later, after we had just got used to having an infant in the house again. Sleep deficit was the order of the day, but life had to go on: Rohan had to get to school, regardless of how well or badly Vik had slept the previous night; and I had to get to work.
Soon Rohan and I had our morning routine worked out: we would walk to school together, then I would catch a bus from outside his school after dropping him there.
On the day Rohan uttered the words I started this post with, it was raining heavily – one of those torrential downpours that are a Sydney characteristic. It was clear that walking to school would be impossible, I would have to drive him there.
My wife gave him the bad news.
“Dad’s driving,” he said, in what appeared to be his usual matter of fact way.
However, if one listened carefully, there was a hint of a question, even alarm, in his words.
Given the back-story one can well understand why.
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According to the most commonly accepted theory of truth, the validity of a statement depends on whether or not it is factually correct – i.e. a statement is true if it corresponds to some of aspect of reality. Philosophers refer to this as the correspondence theory of truth . There are a few other well known theories of truth but it would take me too far afield to discuss them here. See my post on data, information and truth if you are interested in finding out more.
Of course, it is true that Rohan’s statement would in retrospect either be true (if I did drive him to school) or false (if I didn’t). But that was hardly the point: there was a lot more implied in his words than just an observation that I would be driving him to school that day. In other words, his meaning had little do with any objective truth. Consider the following possibilities:
There was a hint of a question:
“Dad’s driving?” (…”You do remember what happened a couple of weeks ago, don’t you?…”)
or even alarm:
“Dad’s driving!” (I could almost hear the, “ I’m not getting in the car with him”)
Whatever the thoughts running through his head, it is clear that Rohan saw the situation quite differently from the way my wife or I did.
—
Indeed, the main problem with correspondence theories of truth is that they require the existence of an objective reality that we can all agree on – i.e. that we all perceive in the same way. This assumption is questionable, especially for issues that cannot be settled on logical grounds alone. Typical examples of such issues are those that are a matter of opinion – such as which political party is best or whether a certain book is worth reading…or even whether certain folks should be allowed to get behind the wheel. These are issues that are perceived differently by different people; there is no clear cut right/wrong, true/false or black/white.
There are other problems with correspondence theories too. For one, it isn’t clear how they would apply to statements that are not assertions about something. For example, it makes no sense to ask whether questions such as, “how much is this?” or “how are you?” are true or false. Nevertheless, these statements are perfectly meaningful when uttered in the right situations.
This brings us to the crux of the matter: in most social interactions, the meaning of a statement (or action, for that matter) depends very much on the context in which it is made. Indeed, context rather than language determines meaning in our everyday interactions. For example, my statement, “It is sunny outside,” could be:
- An observation about the weather conditions (which could be true or false, as per the correspondence theory)
- A statement of anticipation – it is sunny so I can play with my kids in the park.
- A statement of regret – it’s going to be a scorching hot day and we’ll have to stay indoors.
To find out which one of the above (or many other possibilities) I mean, you would need to know the context in which the statement is made. This includes things such as the background, the setting, the people present, the prior conversation, my mood, others’ moods …the list is almost endless.
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Context is king when it comes to language and meaning in social situations. Paraphrasing the polymath Gregory Bateson , the phenomenon of context and the closely related phenomenon of meaning are the key difference between the natural and social sciences. It is possible in physics to formulate laws (of say, gravity) that are relatively independent of context (the law applies on Jupiter just the same as it does on earth). However, in the social sciences, general laws of this kind are difficult because context is important.
Indeed, this is why management models or best practices abstracted from context rarely work, if ever at all. They are not reality, but abstractions of reality. To paraphrase Bateson, all such approaches confuse the map with the territory.
—
I started this post almost three years ago, around the time the events related occurred. All I had written then were the lines I began this post with:
“Dad’s driving” he said. A simple statement, one would think, with not much scope for ambiguity or misunderstanding. ..
The lines lay untouched in a forgotten file on my computer until last weekend, when I came across them while cleaning up some old folders. At the time I had been reading Bateson’s classic, Steps to an Ecology of Mind, and had been mulling over his ideas about meaning and context. With that as background, the story came back to me with all its original force. The way forward was clear and the words started to flow.
Bateson was right, you know – context illuminates meaning.
Acknowledgement
My thanks go out to Arati Apte for comments and suggestions while this piece was in progress.
A stupidity-based theory of organisations – a paper review
Introduction
The platitude “our people are our most important asset” reflects a belief that the survival and evolution of organisations depends on the intellectual and cognitive capacities of the individuals who comprise them. However, in view of the many well documented examples of actions that demonstrate a lack of foresight and/or general callousness about the fate of organisations or those who work in them, one has to wonder if such a belief is justified, or even if it is really believed by those who spout such platitudes.
Indeed, cases such as Enron or Worldcom (to mention just two) seem to suggest that stupidity may be fairly prevalent in present day organisations. This point is the subject of a brilliant paper by Andre Spicer and Mats Alvesson entitled, A stupidity based theory of organisations. This post is an extensive summary and review of the paper.
Background
The notion that the success of an organization depends on the intellectual and rational capabilities of its people seems almost obvious. Moreover, there is a good deal of empirical research that seems to support this. In the opening section of their paper, Alvesson and Spicer cite many studies which appear to establish that developing the knowledge (of employees) or hiring smart people is the key to success in an ever-changing, competitive environment.
These claims are mirrored in theoretical work on organizations. For example Nonaka and Takeuchi’s model of knowledge conversion acknowledges the importance of tacit knowledge held by employees. Although there is still much debate about tacit/explicit knowledge divide, models such as these serve to perpetuate the belief that knowledge (in one form or another) is central to organisational success.
There is also a broad consensus that decision making in organizations, though subject to bounded rationality and related cognitive biases, is by and large a rational process. Even if a decision is not wholly rational, there is usually an attempt to depict it as being so. Such behaviour attests to the importance attached to rational thinking in organization-land.
At the other end of the spectrum there are decisions that can only be described as being, well… stupid. As Rick Chapman discusses in his entertaining book, In Search of Stupidity, organizations occasionally make decisions that are plain dumb However, such behaviour seldom remains hidden because of its rather obvious negative consequences for the organisation. Such stories thus end up being immortalized in business school curricula as canonical examples of what not to do.
Functional stupidity
Notwithstanding the above remarks on obvious stupidity, there is another category of foolishness that is perhaps more pervasive but remains unnoticed and unremarked. Alvesson and Spicer use the term functional stupidity to refer to such “organizationally supported lack of reflexivity, substantive reasoning, and justitication.”
In their words, functional stupidity amounts to the “…refusal to use intellectual resources outside a narrow and ‘safe’ terrain.” It is reflected in a blinkered approach to organisational problems, wherein people display an unwillingness to consider or think about solutions that lie outside an arbitrary boundary. A common example of this is when certain topics are explicitly or tacitly deemed as being “out of bounds” for discussion. Many “business as usual” scenarios are riddled with functional stupidity, which is precisely why it’s often so hard to detect.
As per the definition offered above, there are three cognitive elements to functional stupidity:
- Lack of reflexivity: this refers to the inability or unwillingness to question claims and commonly accepted wisdom.
- Lack of substantive reasoning: This refers to reasoning that is based on a small set of concerns that do not span the whole issue. A common example of this sort of myopia is when organisations focus their efforts on achieving certain objectives with little or no questioning of the objectives themselves.
- Lack of justification: This happens when employees do not question managers or, on the other hand, do not provide explanations regarding their own actions. Often this is a consequence of power relationships in organisations. This may, for example, dissuade employees from “sticking their necks out” by asking questions that managers might deem out of bounds.
It should be noted that functional stupidity has little to do with limitations of human cognitive capacities. Nor does it have anything to do with ignorance, carelessness or lack of thought. The former can be rectified through education and/or the hiring of consultants with the requisite knowledge, and the latter via the use of standardised procedures and checklists.
It is also important to note that functional stupidity is not necessarily a bad thing. For example, by placing certain topics out of bounds, organisations can avoid discussions about potentially controversial topics and can thus keep conflict and uncertainty at bay. This maintains harmony, no doubt, but it also strengthens the existing organisational order which in turn serves to reinforce functional stupidity.
Of course, functional stupidity also has negative consequences, the chief one being that it prevents organisations from finding solutions to issues that involve topics that have been arbitrarily deemed as being out of bounds.
Examples of functional stupidity
There are many examples of functional stupidity in recent history, a couple being the irrational exuberance in the wake of the internet boom of the 1990s, and the lack of critical examination of the complex mathematical models that lead to the financial crisis of last decade.
However, one does not have to look much beyond one’s own work environment to find examples of functional stupidity. Many of these come under the category of “business as usual” or “that’s just the way things are done around here” – phrases that are used to label practices that are ritually applied without much thought or reflection. Such practices often remain unremarked because it is not so easy to link them to negative outcomes. Indeed, the authors point out that “most managerial practices are adopted on the basis of faulty reasoning, accepted wisdom and complete lack of evidence.”
The authors cite the example of companies adopting HR practices that are actually detrimental to employee and organisational wellbeing. Another common example is when organisations place a high value on gathering information which is then not used in a meaningful way. I have discussed this “information perversity” at length in my post on entitled, The unspoken life of information in organisations, so I won’t rehash it here. Alvesson and Spicer point out that information perversity is a consequence of the high cultural value placed on information: it is seen as a prerequisite to “proper” decision making. However, in reality it is often used to justify questionable decisions or simply “hide behind the facts.”
These examples suggest that functional stupidity may be the norm rather than the exception. This is a scary thought…but I suspect it may not be surprising to many readers.
The dynamics of stupidity
Alvesson and Spicer claim that functional stupidity is a common feature in organisations. To understand why it is so pervasive, one has to look into the dynamics of stupidity – how it is established and the factors that influence it. They suggest that the root cause lies in the fact that organisations attempt to short-circuit critical thinking through what they call economies of persuasion, which are activities such as corporate culture initiatives, leadership training or team / identity building, relabelling positions with pretentious titles – and many other such activities that are aimed at influencing employees through the use of symbols and images rather than substance. Such symbolic manipulation, as the authors calls it, is aimed at increasing employees’ sense of commitment to the organisation.
As they put it:
Organizational contexts dominated by widespread attempts at symbolic manipulation typically involve managers seeking to shape and mould the ‘mind-sets’ of employees . A core aspect of this involves seeking to create some degree of good faith and conformity and to limit critical thinking
Although such efforts are not always successful, many employees do buy in to them and thereby identify with the organisation. This makes employees uncritical of the organisation’s goals and the means by which these will be achieved. In other words, it sets the scene for functional stupidity to take root and flourish.
Stupidity management and stupidity self-management
The authors use the term stupidity management to describe managerial actions that prevent or discourage organisational actors (employees and other stakeholders) from thinking for themselves. Some of the ways in which this is done include the reinforcement of positive images of the organisation, getting employees to identify with the organisation’s vision and myriad other organisational culture initiatives aimed at burnishing the image of the corporation. These initiatives are often backed by organisational structures (such as hierarchies and reward systems) that discourage employees from raising and exploring potentially disruptive issues.
The monitoring and sanctioning of activities that might disrupt the positive image of the organisation can be overt (in the form of warnings, say). More often, though, it is subtle. For example, in many meetings, participants participants know that certain issues cannot be raised. At other times, discussion and debate may be short circuited by exhortations to “stop thinking and start doing.” Such occurrences serve to create an environment in which stupidity flourishes.
The net effect of managerial actions that encourage stupidity is that employees start to cast aside their own doubts and questions and behave in corporately acceptable ways – in other words, they start to perform their jobs in an unreflective and unquestioning way. Some people may actually internalise the values espoused by management; others may psychologically distance themselves from the values but still act in ways that they are required to. The net effect of such stupidity self-management (as the authors call it) is that employees stop questioning what they are asked to do and just do it. After a while, doubts fade and this becomes the accepted way of working. The end result is the familiar situation that many of us know as “business as usual” or “that’s just the way things are done around here.”
The paradoxes and consequences of stupidity
Functional stupidity can cause both feelings of certainty and dissonance in members of an organisation. Suppressing critical thinking can result in an easy acceptance of the way things are. The feelings of certainty that come from suppressing difficult questions can be comforting. Moreover, those who toe the organisational line are more likely to be offered material rewards and promotions than those who don’t. This can act to reinforce functional stupidity because others who see stupidity rewarded may also be tempted to behave in a similar fashion.
That said, certain functionally stupid actions, such as ignoring obvious ethical lapses, can result in serious negative outcomes for an organisation. This has been amply illustrated in the recent past. Such events can prompt formal inquiries at the level of the organisation, no doubt accompanied by informal soul-searching at the individual level. However, as has also been amply illustrated, there is no guarantee that inquiries or self-reflection lead to any major changes in behaviour. Once the crisis passes, people seem all too happy to revert to business as usual.
In the end , though, when stark differences between the rhetoric and reality of the organisation emerge – as they eventually will– employees will see the contradictions between the real organisation and the one they have been asked to believe in. This can result in alienation from and cynicism about the organisation and its objectives. So, although stupidity management may have beneficial outcomes in the short run, there is a price to be paid in the longer term.
Nothing comes for free, not even stupidity…
Conclusion
The authors main message is that despite the general belief that organisations enlist the cognitive and intellectual capacities of their members in positive ways, the truth is that organisational behaviour often exhibits a wilful ignorance of facts and/or a lack of logic. The authors term this behaviour functional stupidity.
Functional stupidiy has the advantage of maintaining harmony at least in the short term, but its longer term consequences can be negative. Members of an organisation “learn” such behaviour by becoming aware that certain topics are out of bounds and that they broach these at their own risk. Conformance is rewarded by advancement or material gain whereas dissent is met with overt or less obvious disciplinary action. Functional stupidity thus acts as a barrier that can stop members of an organisation from developing potentially interesting perspectives on the problems the organisations face.
The paper makes an interesting and very valid point about the pervasiveness of wilfully irrational behaviour in organisations. That said, I can’t help but think that the authors have written it with tongue firmly planted in cheek.
A visit from the methodology police – a PMO satire
They came for me at 11:00 am.
I was just settling down to finishing that damned business case when I heard the rat-a-tat-tat on my office door. “Come in,” I said, with a touch of irritation in my voice.
The door opened and there they were. They looked at me as though I was something that had crawled out from under a rock. “Mr. Hersey, I presume,” said the taller, uglier one.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Joe Hersey?” He asked, wanting to make sure before unloading on me.
“Yes, the one and only,” I said, forcing a smile. I had a deep sense of foreboding now: they looked like trouble; I knew they couldn’t be enquiring after my welfare.
“You need to come with us,” said the shorter one. I did imply he was handsomer of the two, but I should clarify that it was a rather close call.
“I have better things to do than follow impolite summons from people I don’t know. I think you should talk to my manager. In fact, I will take you to him,” I replied, rising from my chair. “He won’t be happy that you’ve interrupted my business case. He wants it done by lunchtime,” I added, a tad smugly.
“We’ve already seen him. He knows. I would advise you to come with us. It would make life easier for everyone concerned,” I forget which one of the two said this.
“What is going on?” I asked, toning down my irritation. To be honest, I had no clue what they were on about.
“We’re the methodology police,” they said in unison. I guess they’d had a fair bit of practice scaring the crap out of hapless project managers. “We’re from the PMO,” they added unnecessarily – I mean, where else could they be from.
“Holy s**t,” I said to myself. I was in big trouble.
—
“Well, Hersey,” said the short one, “I think you owe the PMO an explanation.” Ah, I loved his use of the third person– not “us” but “the PMO.”
We were seated at a table in a meeting room deep in the bowels of the PMO: windowless, with low wattage lighting sponsored by one of those new-fangled, energy-saving, greenie bulbs . The three chairs were arranged in interrogation mode , with the two goons on one side and me – Joseph M. Hersey, Project Manager Extraordinaire – on the other.
I was in trouble alright, but I have this perverse streak in me, “I don’t know what you are talking about,” I said, feeling a bit like a hero from a Raymond Chandler novel. I knew what I had done, of course. But I also knew that I was one of the good guys. The clowns sitting opposite me were the forces of evil…such thoughts, though perverse, lifted my spirits.
I must have smiled because the tall one said, “You think this is funny, do you? We have a direct line to the board and we could make life really unpleasant for you if you continue this uncooperative attitude.”
That was bad. I did not want to be hauled up in front of the big cheese. If I was branded a troublemaker at that level, there would be no future for me in the company. And to be absolutely honest, I actually enjoyed working here – visits from the methodology police excepted, of course.
“OK, tell me what you want to know,” I said resignedly.
“No, you tell us, Hersey. We want to hear the whole story of your subversion of process in your own words. We’ll stop you if we need any clarification.” Again, I forget which one of the two said this. Understandable, I think – I was pretty stressed by then.
—
Anyway, there is no sense in boring you with all the PMO and process stuff. Suffice to say, I told them how I partitioned my big project into five little ones, so that each mini project would fall below the threshold criteria for major projects and thus be exempt from following the excruciating methodology that our PMO had instituted.
Process thus subverted, I ran each of the mini projects separately, with deliverables from one feeding into the next. I’d got away with it; with no onerous procedures to follow I was free to devise my own methodology, involving nothing more complicated than a spreadsheet updated daily following informal conversations with team members and stakeholders. All this held together – and, sorry, this is going to sound corny – by trust.
The methodology cops’ ears perked up when they heard that word, “Trust!” they exclaimed, “What do you mean by trust?”
“That’s when you believe people will do as they say they will,” I said. Then added, “A concept that may be foreign to you.” I regretted that snide aside as soon as I said it.
“Look, “ said the uglier guy, “I suggest you save the wisecracks for an audience that may appreciate them. “You are beginning to annoy me and a report to the board is looking like a distinct possibility if you continue in this vein.”
I have to say, if this guy had a lot of patience if he was only just “beginning to get annoyed.” I was aware that I had been baiting him for a while. Yes, I do know when I do that. My wife keeps telling me it will get me into trouble one day. May be today’s the day.
“…I do know what trust is,” the man continued, “but I also know that you cannot run a project on warm and fuzzy notions such as trust, sincerity, commitment etc. The only thing I will trust are written signed off project documents.”
Ah, the folly, the folly. “Tell me this, what would you prefer – project documentation as per the requirements of your methodology or a successful project.”
“The two are not mutually exclusive. In fact, methodology improves the chance of success.”
“No it doesn’t,” I retorted.
“It does,” he lobbed back.
Jeez, this was beginning to sound like recess in the local kindergarten. “Prove it,” I said, staking my claim to the title of King of Kindergarten Debates.
“There are several studies that prove the methodologies efficacy,” said the short one, “but that is not the point.”
“All those studies are sponsored by the Institute,” I said, referring to the August Body that maintains the standard. “so there is a small matter of vested interest….anyway, you say that isn’t the point. So what is your point then?.”
“The methodology is an internal requirement, so you have to follow It regardless. We could have a lot of fun debating it, but that is neither here no there. Compliance is mandatory, you have no choice.”
“I did comply,” I said, “none of my projects were over the threshold, so I did not need to follow the methodology.”
“That was subterfuge – it was one project that you deliberately divided into five so that you could bypass our processes.”
I was getting tired and it was close to my lunchtime. “OK, fair point“ I said, “I should not have done that. I will not do it again. Can I go now?”
“Hmm,” they said in unison. I don’t think either of them believed me. “That’s not good enough.”
I sighed. “What do you want then?” I asked, weary of this pointless drama.
“You will read and sign this form,” said the short one, “declaring you have been trained in the PMO processes – which you were last year, as you well know – and that you will follow the processes henceforth. I particularly urge you to read and digest the bit about the consequences of non-compliance.” He flicked the form in my direction.
I was not surprised to see that the form was a multi-page affair, written in 8pt bureaucratese, utterly incomprehensible to mere mortals such as I. I knew I would continue to bypass or subvert processes that made no sense to me, but I also knew that they needed me to sign that form – their boss would be very unhappy with them if I didn’t. Besides, I didn’t want to stay in that room a second longer than necessary.
“OK, where do I sign,” I said, picking up a pen that lay on the table.
“Don’t you want to read it.”
“Nah,” I said, “I have a pretty fair idea of what it’s about.”
I signed.
“We’re done, Hersey. You can go back to your business case now. But you can be sure that you are on our radar now. We are watching you.”
“Well Gents, enjoy the show. I promise, to lead a faultless life henceforth. I will be a model project manager,” I said as I rose to leave.
“We’re counting on it Hersey. One more violation and you are in deep trouble.”
I refrained from responding with a wisecrack as I exited, leaving them to the paperwork that is their raison d’etre.
Eight to Late 