My Journey to the IIM !!

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David C. McClelland
David McClelland was born May 20, 1917 in Mt. Vernon, New York. He received his B.A. degree in 1938 from Wesleyan University and his M.A. in 1939 from the University of Missouri. His received his Ph.D. in experimental psychology from Yale University in 1941.
He taught at the Connecticut College for Women in New London, Connecticut and Wesleyan University prior to accepting a position at Harvard University in 1956. After 30 years at Harvard, he moved to Boston University in 1987, where he was a Distinguished Research Professor of Psychology until his death in March 1998 at the age of 80.
Although McClelland is best-known for his research on achievement motivation, his research interests ranged from personality to consciousness. Along with John Atkinson, he developed the scoring system for the Thematic Apperception Test which was used in achievement motivation research. Later, he became interested in the relationship between achievement motivation and economic development. Before his death, he conducted research on physiological influences on achievement motivation. McClelland received numerous awards for his research, including the American Psychological Association Award for Distinguished Scientific Contribution in 1987.
His publications include The Achieving Society (1961), The Roots of Consciousness (1964), Power: The Inner Experience (1975), and The Achievement MotiMotivation of Athletic Performance The successful coach is one who can motivate athletes to exhibit their best performance. Alderman (1980) suggested several incentives that motivate athletes to perform well, including meeting the needs of independence, power, success, aggression, stress (excitement), affiliation, and excellence. Alderman found affiliation and excellence to be the most important motivators for athletes. Landers (1982) investigated the role that arousal plays in athletic performance and concluded that a medium arousal level is often more effective than being too "psyched up" for an activity. A related technique for coaches is to help athletes learn how to monitor their arousal levels through biofeedback and control the excess arousal or anxiety (Paterson, 1984).
What is the optimum coaching strategy for motivating athletes? Duquin (1980) suggested that the successful athlete should be intrinsically motivated and not dependent upon the coach for reinforcement. For instance, my son's cross-country running coach encourages the runners to compete against themselves, trying to beat their best time rather than competing against other people. The runners gain self-confidence and self-reward when they can set new personal records. The coach needs to motivate players, encourage team spirit, and promote social cohesiveness (LeUnes & Nation, 1989). Emphasis should be on the success of the individual as a person and not only on the victory. These strategies are often successful in producing a winning team. It is important to remember that sports psychology involves the coach, the team members, the particular sport, and the ability of the athletes, as well as personality and motivational factors.
ve (1953, with Atkinson, Clark, and Lowell).
 
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Achievement Styles
One approach to achievement motivation is achievement style, or how we behave in achievement situations (Lipman-Blumen & colleagues, 1983). Three achievement styles have been identified.
In the direct style, people face achievement situations head-on and use their own resources to gain success.
In the instrumental style, people get other people to help them achieve their goals.
In the relational style, people obtain success through their association with other people's work.
Research is currently being conducted to understand how these achievement styles are learned, and whether or not they change over time. [SIZE=-1]Try to identify each achievement style listed below.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=-1]A boss takes full credit for the efforts of her subordinates.[/SIZE]
memov.gif
direct
Instrumental
Relational[SIZE=-1]A salesperson makes many sales calls and puts in long hours.[/SIZE]
salesmov.gif
direct
Instrumental
Relational[SIZE=-1]A baseball player shares the success of
baseballmov.gif
direct
Instrumental
Relational
 
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CONTENTS
Motivating

Supervision: Overview
Since motivation influences productivity, supervisors need to understand what motivates employees to reach peak performance. It is not an easy task to increase employee motivation because employees respond in different ways to their jobs and their organization's practices. Motivation is the set of processes that moves a person toward a goal. Thus, motivated behaviors are voluntary choices controlled by the individual employee. The supervisor (motivator) wants to influence the factors that motivate employees to higher levels of productivity.

Factors that affect work motivation include individual differences, job characteristics, and organizational practices. Individual differences are the personal needs, values, and attitudes, interests and abilities that people bring to their jobs. Job characteristics are the aspects of the position that determine its limitations and challenges. Organizational practices are the rules, human resources policies, managerial practices, and rewards systems of an organization. Supervisors must consider how these factors interact to affect employee job performance.

Simple Model of Motivation

The purpose of behavior is to satisfy needs. A need is anything that is required, desired, or useful. A want is a conscious recognition of a need. A need arises when there is a difference in self-concept (the way I see myself) and perception (the way I see the world around me). The presence of an active need is expressed as an inner state of tension from which the individual seeks relief.



Theories of Motivation

Many methods of employee motivation have been developed. The study of work motivation has focused on the motivator (supervisor) as well as the motivatee (employee). Motivation theories are important to supervisors attempting to be effective leaders. Two primary approaches to motivation are content and process.

The content approach to motivation focuses on the assumption that individuals are motivated by the desire to fulfill inner needs. Content theories focus on the needs that motivate people.

· Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs identifies five levels of needs, which are best seen as a hierarchy with the most basic need emerging first and the most sophisticated need last. People move up the hierarchy one level at a time. Gratified needs lose their strength and the next level of needs is activated. As basic or lower-level needs are satisfied, higher-level needs become operative. A satisfied need is not a motivator. The most powerful employee need is the one that has not been satisfied. Abraham Maslow first presented the five-tier hierarchy in 1942 to a psychoanalytic society and published it in 1954 in Motivation and Personality (New York: Harper and Row).
Level I - Physiological needs are the most basic human needs. They include food, water, and comfort. The organization helps to satisfy employees' physiological needs by a paycheck.
Level II - Safety needs are the desires for security and stability, to feel safe from harm. The organization helps to satisfy employees' safety needs by benefits.
Level III - Social needs are the desires for affiliation. They include friendship and belonging. The organization helps to satisfy employees' social needs through sports teams, parties, and celebrations. The supervisor can help fulfill social needs by showing direct care and concern for employees.
Level IV - Esteem needs are the desires for self-respect and respect or recognition from others. The organization helps to satisfy employees' esteem needs by matching the skills and abilities of the employee to the job. The supervisor can help fulfill esteem needs by showing workers that their work is appreciated.
Level V - Self-actualization needs are the desires for self-fulfillment and the realization of the individual's full potential. The supervisor can help fulfill self-actualization needs by assigning tasks that challenge employees' minds while drawing on their aptitude and training.



· Alderfer's ERG identified three categories of needs. The most important contribution of the ERG model is the addition of the frustration-regression hypothesis, which holds that when individuals are frustrated in meeting higher level needs, the next lower level needs reemerge.
Existence needs are the desires for material and physical well being. These needs are satisfied with food, water, air, shelter, working conditions, pay, and fringe benefits.
Relatedness needs are the desires to establish and maintain interpersonal relationships. These needs are satisfied with relationships with family, friends, supervisors, subordinates, and co-workers.
Growth needs are the desires to be creative, to make useful and productive contributions and to have opportunities for personal development.

· McClelland's Learned Needs divides motivation into needs for power, affiliation, and achievement.
Achievement motivated people thrive on pursuing and attaining goals. They like to be able to control the situations in which they are involved. They take moderate risks. They like to get immediate feedback on how they have done. They tend to be preoccupied with a task-orientation towards the job to be done.
Power motivated individuals see almost every situation as an opportunity to seize control or dominate others. They love to influence others. They like to change situations whether or not it is needed. They are willing to assert themselves when a decision needs to be made.
Affiliation motivated people are usually friendly and like to socialize with others. This may distract them from their performance requirements. They will usually respond to an appeal for cooperation.

Watch the videos.

· Herzberg's Two-Factor Theory describes needs in terms of satisfaction and dissatisfaction. Frederick Herzberg examined motivation in the light of job content and contest. (See Work an the Nature of Man, Crowell Publications, 1966.) Motivating employees is a two-step process. First provide hygienes and then motivators. One continuum ranges from no satisfaction to satisfaction. The other continuum ranges from dissatisfaction to no dissatisfaction.

Satisfaction comes from motivators that are intrinsic or job content, such as achievement, recognition, advancement, responsibility, the work itself, and growth possibilities. Herzberg uses the term motivators for job satisfiers since they involve job content and the satisfaction that results from them. Motivators are considered job turn-ons. They are necessary for substantial improvements in work performance and move the employee beyond satisfaction to superior performance. Motivators correspond to Maslow's higher-level needs of esteem and self-actualization.

Dissatisfaction occurs when the following hygiene factors, extrinsic or job context, are not present on the job: pay, status, job security, working conditions, company policy, peer relations, and supervision. Herzberg uses the term hygiene for these factors because they are preventive in nature. They will not produce motivation, but they can prevent motivation from occurring. Hygiene factors can be considered job stay-ons because they encourage an employee to stay on a job. Once these factors are provided, they do not necessarily promote motivation; but their absence can create employee dissatisfaction. Hygiene factors correspond to Maslow's physiological, safety, and social needs in that they are extrinsic, or peripheral, to the job. They are present in the work environment of job context.

Motivation comes from the employee's feelings of accomplishment or job content rather than from the environmental factors or job context. Motivators encourage an employee to strive to do his or her best. Job enrichment can be used to meet higher-level needs. To enrich a job, a supervisor can introduce new or more difficult tasks, assign individuals specialized tasks that enable them to become experts, or grant additional authority to employees.



Watch the videos.



The process approach emphasizes how and why people choose certain behaviors in order to meet their personal goals. Process theories focus on external influences or behaviors that people choose to meet their needs. External influences are often readily accessible to supervisors.

· Vroom's Expectancy Model suggests that people choose among alternative behaviors because they anticipate that particular behaviors will lead to one or more desired outcomes and that other behaviors will lead to undesirable outcomes. Expectancy is the belief that effort will lead to first-order outcomes, any work-related behavior that is the direct result of the effort an employee expends on a job.

· Equity is the perception of fairness involved in rewards given. A fair or equitable situation is one in which people with similar inputs experience similar outcomes. Employees will compare their rewards with the rewards received by others for their efforts. If employees perceive that an inequity exists, they are likely to withhold some of their contributions, either consciously or unconsciously, to bring a situation into better balance.

For example, if someone thinks he or she is not getting enough pay (output) for his or her work (input), he or she will try to get that pay increased or reduce the amount of work he or she is doing. On the other hand, when a worker thinks he or she is being paid too much for the work he or she is doing, he or she tends to increase the amount of work. Not only do workers compare their own inputs and outputs; they compare their input/output ratio with the input/output ratio of other workers. If one work team believes they are doing more work than a similar team for the same pay, their sense of fairness will be violated and they will tend to reduce the amount of work they are doing. It is a normal human inclination to want things to be fair.

Bowditch and Buono note (see Bowditch, James L. and Anthony F. Buono, A Primer on Organizational Behavior, 4th, John Wiley & Sons, 1997) that while equity theory was originally concerned with differences in pay, it may be applied to other forms of tangible and intangible rewards in the workplace. That is, if any input is not balanced with some fair output, the motivation process will be difficult. Supervisors must manage the perception of fairness in the mind of each employee. If subordinates think they are not being treated fairly, it is difficult to motivate them.



· Reinforcement involves four types of consequence. Positive reinforcement creates a pleasant consequence by using rewards to increase the likelihood that a behavior will be repeated. Negative reinforcement occurs when a person engages in behavior to avoid unpleasant consequences or to escape from existing unpleasant consequences. Punishment is an attempt to discourage a target behavior by the application of negative outcomes whenever it is possible. Extinction is the absence of any reinforcement, either positive or negative, following the occurrence of a target behavior. Employees have questions about their jobs. Can I do what management is asking me to do? If I do the job, will I be rewarded? Will the reward I receive be satisfactory to me?

Reinforcement is based primarily on the work of B.F. Skinner, a psychologist, who experimented with the theories of operant conditioning. Skinner's work shows that many behaviors can be controlled through the use of rewards. In fact, a person might be influenced to change his or her behavior by giving him or her rewards.

Employees who do an exceptionally good job on a particular project should be rewarded for that performance. It will motivate them to try to do an exceptional job on their next project. Employees must associate the reward with the behavior. In other words, the employee must know for what specifically he or she is being rewarded! The reward should come as quickly as possible after the behavior. The reward can be almost anything, but it must be something desired by the employee. Some of the most powerful rewards are symbolic; things that cost very little but mean a lot to the people who get them. Examples of symbolic rewards are things like plaques or certificates.
 
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WORK MOTIVATION:BARRIERS & STRATEGIES
Dr. D. Dutta Roy, Ph.D.
Psychology Research Unit
Indian Statistical Institute
203, B.T. Road
Kolkata - 700 035
India
DEFINITION
Work motivation is a process to energize employee to the work goal through a specific path.
Process This is not an object rather method or technique or art
Energize Developing inner urge to put effort on successful performance.
Employee Person employed to exchange his cognitive, affective and conative domains for achievement of organizational goal for salary etc. as contracted by the organization.
Work goal This is well defined, achievable and measurable
Path Specific roles and job responsibilities are measurable and related to goal achievement.





BARRIERS OF WORK MOTIVATION
Attitude to employees Considering employee as cog of the machine rather as a human system having unique needs, abilities, personality traits, values, aptitudes, skills etc.
Work Goal Undefined, unachievable and unmeasurable
Path Job responsibilities are undefined, unachievable, unmeasurable and unrelated to work goal.
Leadership Leadership failure in manipulation of incentives.
Third party Influence of informal communication systems through colleagues, unions and family members.






STRATEGIES TO OVERCOME BARRIERS

Job Analysis More emphasis on personnel specification and regression analysis to determine weightage on job related individual characteristics.
Human resource accounting Accounting IQ, EQ, personality traits, aptitude profiles of each employee.
Selection Selecting right man for right place at the right time.
Attitude change Employee as human system having specific needs, aptitudes, temperament, attitudes towards job and the organization.
Role clarity Well defined job description and work roles. Introduce role drama for role understanding for both lower level employees and the managers.
Training Periodical training to the employees about upgradation of skills, work role analysis and to the leaders about leadership development (communication, manipulation of incentives, decision making etc).
Survey Periodical survey to study level of employee satisfaction , attitude towards organizational health and their relations to individual productivity and quality of working life for organizational diagnosis.. Introduce organization development programmes for attitude change in considering results of regression analysis.
Work culture Introduce quality circle, suggestion box system, and intermingle organization to the life style of the employees.



 
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Work Motivation
Truman Bewley
January 1999
Presented at
“Labor Markets and Macroeconomics: Microeconomic Perspectives,”
a conference held at the Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis,
October 22–23, 1998
____________________
I am deeply grateful to Joseph Ritter for insightful comments on various drafts of this paper.
1The results of the study are reported in a book, provisionally entitled Why Not Listen to
Business? A Study of Wage Rigidity, to be published by Harvard University Press in 1999.
1
In 1992 and 1993, I undertook a field study in the Northeast of the United States with
the intention of learning why wages and salaries seldom fall during recessions.1 I
interviewed over 330 business people, labor leaders, counselors of unemployed workers,
labor market intermediaries (headhunters), labor lawyers, and management consultants. The
purpose of the study was exploratory; much of my effort went into the search for hypotheses
rather than tests of specific ones. For this reason, I did not require informants to answer a
fixed list of questions, but informed them of the purpose of the study and invited them to tell
me what they thought was relevant, intervening only occasionally to seek clarification, to
show interest, or to nudge the discussion in new directions. Only after informants had
spoken at length did I ask specific questions to cover points that interested me. I usually
avoided asking about economic theories until the end of interviews, for such questions
sometimes stopped conversation, since the theories seemed naive and the questions led
respondents to try to think like an economist rather than to explain their world concretely
in their own terms. Some business people refused such open ended interviews, probably
because they feared that while talking loosely they might say something that would
embarrass them or hurt their company, and I concluded that low response rates would make
it impossible to sample businesses randomly. (I had much less difficulty gaining the
cooperation of the other types of respondents.) Most interviews with business people were
obtained through personal contacts or by telephoning people and persuading them to
cooperate. Often, people I interviewed arranged further interviews. I strove to avoid sample
bias by interviewing in a large and diverse set of companies and by using many distinct
avenues of approach to gain access to them. In this way, I avoided talking to people from
only a few circles of friends. The companies were from a broad spectrum of industries and
of a full range of sizes and financial conditions. Some were bankrupt, many were shrinking
and experiencing heavy layoffs, and some were growing rapidly. Some had been founded
only recently, while most were well-established. Some were unionized, whereas many had
no union presence. Some were public corporations and others were closely held or family
owned. I made a special point of finding businesses that had cut or frozen pay during the
recession. There were few such; most firms continued to grant regular raises. My method
did not yield a valid opinion survey or reliable statistics on the incidence of various business
practices. However, I believe I gathered valuable information about what happens in the
labor market during a recession and about how business people and labor leaders think about
layoffs and pay cuts.
The explanation of wage rigidity given by the over 275 business people and labor
leaders interviewed was based on views of worker motivation that deviate from the standard
2
model. In this paper, I formulate a somewhat speculative model of work motivation
stimulated by what I heard. The model incorporates ideas from psychology into the utility
maximizing framework of economics.
1. Wage Rigidity and Morale
In this section, I summarize what I heard in interviews, giving the reasons for wage
rigidity explained to me by business people and labor leaders. The resistance to pay
reduction comes in the first instance from managers, not from workers, though anticipated
employee discontent motivates management opposition to pay cuts. The discontent, usually
described as poor morale, would not necessarily be expressed openly, but business people
believed it could be so harmful as to cause monetary losses exceeding the savings from a
pay cut.
The downward rigidity of the pay of existing and of newly hired employees have
separate explanations. The reason almost all managers gave for not cutting the pay of
existing employees was concern about morale. New employees would probably object little
if, before they applied for their jobs, pay rates for new hires had fallen by no more than the
pay of existing employees in the same jobs. However, new employees resent as inequitable
being paid according to a scale lower than that applying to colleagues hired earlier. For this
reason, downward pay rigidity for new hires exists only because the pay of existing
employees is rigid. The pay of new hires is usually downwardly flexible when co-workers
do not have enough contact with each other to know each others pay. This circumstance
arises typically when labor turnover is high and when a large fraction of the employees work
part-time on schedules that seldom overlap. Typical examples are floor crews in fast food
restaurants and in supermarkets.
Good morale means many things in industry; a willingness to cooperate with company
objectives, a sense of common purpose consistent with the firm’s goals, enthusiasm for the
job, happiness, toleration of unpleasantness, moral behavior, and mutual trust. Business
people value good morale because it reduces labor turnover, makes it easier to recruit good
workers, and increases the productivity of the existing work force. The increase in productivity
arises not so much because employees work harder at assigned tasks that are
monitored, but because workers do the right thing even when no one is watching, do extra
things without instruction, make suggestions for improvements, help each other, and share
information with each other and with superiors. Good morale is thought to be especially
important for productivity in jobs where it is difficult to monitor performance, where good
performance requires imagination and creativity, and where workers must deal with
customers. Morale is important in the latter case, because employees handle customers
better when in a good mood.
The morale of existing employees is hurt by pay cuts because of what may be called an
insult effect and a standard of living effect. The latter occurs because lower living standards
3
distract and aggravate workers, put them in a bad mood, and cause them to blame the
company for the difficult adaptation to lower incomes. The insult effect occurs because
workers associate pay with self-worth and recognition of their value to the company. Many
workers receive increases regularly, grow used to them, and interpret them as recognition
of loyalty and good performance. Hence, a pay cut is interpreted as a signal of
dissatisfaction with employees, even if everyone’s pay is reduced. These effects apply to
both real and nominal pay reduction, though the effects of an abrupt nominal cut are
stronger than those of a slow decline in the purchasing power of pay.
Another reason a pay cut is interpreted as an affront is that it is viewed as unfair,
because the company takes something away while giving nothing in return. A pay cut is not
felt to be insulting if management can convince workers that the reduction is justified, that
is, if it prevents a large number of layoffs. Pay cuts typically occur when a business is in
danger of closing or has trouble competing in product markets, and in these circumstances
workers usually accept cuts. However, such circumstances are rare. A central fact of life
for most businesses is that pay rates have little impact on total employment. That is, in most
firms the elasticity of demand for labor is small. Pay cuts are more common among firms
where this elasticity is high. Business people and labor leaders were confident they could
usually convince employees, with some effort, that pay cuts were justified, if they indeed
were so. I was told that workers refuse to believe what they are told about company
difficulties only when management has a reputation for duplicity, when relations between
management and union representatives are bad or when workers recoil from facing reality.
I found little support for the many theories of wage rigidity based on information
asymmetries, and, in particular, theories based on the assumption that management cannot
persuade workers that low profits or competitive conditions require pay reduction. The
general thrust of what was said was that normally information flows freely enough within
businesses that most employees know when their company is in trouble. In some small and
medium sized companies, the workers may know this before management does, because it
is low level employees who take orders and keep accounts and gossip spreads quickly.
Nevertheless, asymmetries of information underlie the explanation of wage rigidity.
Morale is important in large part because management finds it prohibitively expensive to
monitor employees closely. For this reason, companies rely on workers doing what they are
supposed to do without being told, even when supervisors are unlikely to check up on them
or will never do so. Workers are likely to be so cooperative only if they have good morale.
Though employees expect to share in company success through larger pay increases,
they do not expect to share in losses to the extent of having their pay reduced. The
adjustment to lower income is too painful for workers relative to the sacrifices made by
company owners, and pay cuts raise the awkward issue of the disparity between the incomes
of workers and owners.
Morale is fragile and can be destroyed quickly by matters more minor than pay cuts.
It can be hurt by any form of unfair or inequitable treatment by management, where the
2Juster (1985) found in a survey of ordinary people that most preferred work to activities
associated with leisure.
4
standards of fairness, especially regarding pay differentials, are often determined by
company or industry traditions rather than by absolute standards of justice.
Good morale normally takes a long time to build. It is fostered by frank but good
relations between subordinates and superiors, by prospects for economic security and
progress within the company, by recognition and reward of contributions to the company,
by good explanations of the social contribution of the company’s products and of a worker’s
role in the production process. Collective activities within the company, such as charity
drives and company picnics, also improve morale, as does almost anything that encourages
workers to think of people other than themselves.
Morale is hurt by threats, such as threats of being fired if performance is substandard.
Though companies fire some workers, it is thought to be bad business practice to have
people work in a negative menacing atmosphere. However, just this style of management
is often used with low-level and low-paid labor doing short-term jobs that are easily
monitored. Firing is most useful for ridding an organization of scoundrels and ne’er do
wells rather than as a way of motivating ordinary workers to perform. Positive incentives
and an optimistic atmosphere encourage performance more effectively than do threats. Most
workers want to do well and do so if given the opportunity and if they understand what they
are supposed to do. Furthermore, many people enjoy their work.2 A sense of pride, duty,
and accomplishment can make even disagreeable jobs bearable. Nevertheless, strict
discipline is necessary for good morale, for if some workers are allowed to get away with
slacking, those who work hard feel they are being treated inequitably.
What has been said is a fair summary, I believe, of the dominant views of business
people and labor leaders. I now turn to the problem of formulating these ideas in ways that
may be useful for economic theory.
2. Interpretation of Morale
Good morale has three components; identification with the organization or
internalization if its objectives, good moods, and trust and mutual affinity among members
of the organization. A person may be judged to have internalized the objectives of their
organization if they act so as to advance its interests without specific instructions and
without any possibility of being monitored and rewarded. Identification is manifested by
internalization of the organization’s objectives as well as by efforts to demonstrate
membership in it and by expression of feelings of belonging. Moods are states of mind that
affect work habits and the pleasure or displeasure derived from work. Cooperation within
an organization is fostered by a network of trusting relationships among employees.
3Some industrial psychologists measure morale as the existence of effective groups (Blum, 1956,
pp.163–69).
5
However, cooperation may not be directed toward helping the organization, unless members
accept its objectives. Though the social network is an important component of morale, it
is not one that is hurt by pay cutting and so I give it little attention.3
Identity and Internalization It is clear that human beings have the capacity to identify
with organizations and to internalize codes of behavior and the interests of others.
Experimentally, it is easy to induce people to identify with a group and to act in its interests
(Tajfel, 1970 and Turner, 1987). Children show empathy for others at a young age and learn
to internalize social and moral rules (Gleitman, 1995, pp. 550-8). It is impossible to know
whether the capacities for empathy, morality, and group identity are accidental or evolved
in humanity because they increased chances of survival, nor do we need to know the answer
to this question. What is important is that the capacities exist.
A psychological theory of organizational identity should describe its function or purpose
and the mental mechanism of which it is a part. Identity in general is a person’s image of
who they are. One advantage of identity is that it simplifies mental processes by summarizing
a person’s goals and by providing a set of rules as to how to behave. A great deal
of what we do mentally is done unconsciously or semi-consciously. Conscious mental
operations are slow, though adaptable. Unconscious ones are rapid, though restricted to
learned routines. Thus, it is hard to learn to play the piano or to speak a foreign language,
but, once learned, playing or speaking occurs smoothly and with only general conscious
direction. Identity includes many such mental subroutines. For instance, it would be nearly
impossible to function socially if we had forever to weigh self-interest against collective
advantage. These calculations are replaced in most cases by learned rules as to what we
should do, who are our friends or foes, and what we should expect of them; rules that are
all part of identity. In summary, the function of identity is to make mental activity more
efficient and its mechanism is the set of unconscious goals and mental subroutines that it
includes.
An additional advantage to individuals of group identification is that it contributes to
their sense of being powerful, valuable, important, and wanted. A sense of self-worth is
needed by people because it gives them a reason to survive and promote their own interests.
Without a sense of worth and of having the power to shape their own lives, people can be
incapacitated by what psychologists call learned helplessness (Gleitman, 1995, pp.133–35).
An obvious benefit of group identity is that it makes it easier to work with other people,
which is important because most productive human activities require cooperation. However,
this benefit does not explain morale’s fragility. Its function may be to protect individual
self-interest. Though commitment to a group helps overcome prisoner’s dilemma or free6
rider problems arising in cooperative activity, the same sense of responsibility exposes
individuals to exploitation. It is useful to have a system that balances private and group
advantage, and conventional standards of fairness offer an orderly way of doing so. These
establish rules of reciprocation among group members and between them and the
organization, and the duties specified by these rules are accepted by members when they
agree emotionally to join. Perhaps the brittleness of morale is a self-protective reflex
provoked by violation of fairness standards. A reading of a psychology textbook, such as
(Gleitman, 1995), makes it clear that many parts of the nervous system operate through
offsetting pairs of activating and inhibiting signals. The teetering between group commitment
and indignant rebellion may reflect just such a pairing built into the psyche.
It remains to be explained why unjustified pay cuts impair identification with the
employer. A superficial answer, given earlier, is that they are regarded as unfair, because
fairness specifies rules of reciprocation and workers receive nothing in exchange for a pay
cut that saves few jobs. It might be that in a different world, workers would view wages and
salaries coolly as fluctuating market prices and would accept price declines as a normal part
of business life, just as salespeople accept large income fluctuations. However, most people
do not think this way. I was told many times that workers do not view themselves as
commodities and inevitably interpret pay cuts as statements about how satisfied the
company is with them, because in their experience pay changes signal appreciation of
workers’ contribution.
Mood, Work Effort, and Its Disutility Managers and labor leaders did not usually speak
of jobs as disagreeable, but assumed that employees liked to work. They said that one of
the bad effects of layoff was loss of the pleasure of working and of social contacts on the
job. However, if in the standard model of work we assume that effort brings positive rather
than negative utility, then people should work hard, even if they have no financial incentive
to do so; an implication that conflicts with common sense. Though volunteer labor makes
important contributions to society, it is hard to imagine that it would be a success at
producing ordinary economic output. Other phenomena inconsistent with the usual model
of work effort are the importance of mood to job performance and to satisfaction from work.
I was told that bad moods are distracting and increase fatigue, discomfort, and accidents.
In order to make sense of these observations, it may be helpful to consider an analogy
with a lion hunting an antelope. In chasing an antelope, the lion expends energy, loses time,
and risks injury. These costs must be weighed against the probability of catching the prey
and the pleasure of eating it. Imagine that the lion unconsciously or half consciously weighs
the costs against the benefits before deciding whether to give chase and before choosing the
level of physical effort to expend on the pursuit. Once the decision is made, the lion’s mind
automatically adjusts his mood and level of nervous and physical arousal to handle the effort
required. If the lion decides not to go after the antelope, he will not be aroused, will feel
lazy, and may find running uncomfortable. If he decides to try for a kill, he will be
7
mobilized and excited and will probably be exhilarated by the effort. Given this decision,
he will consciously decide how much effort to put into the hunt and how to go about it. We
may imagine that the lion’s mind and body unconsciously choose the mood and level of
arousal so that he consciously chooses an effort level that optimizes an unconscious utility
depending on probability of success, energy expenditure, and risk of injury. The lion’s
unconscious choice of mood may be constrained by his preexisting state of mind. If he just
lost his wives to a rival, he may be discouraged and not feel like hunting, whereas if he is
a hopeful young bachelor, he may feel vigorous.
Another illuminating analogy may be that of a virtuoso pianist. For an appreciative and
sensitive audience, he will probably play at his best and love doing so. If he hears snores
and catcalls, he will no doubt feel his fingers stiffen, stumble, and hate playing.
It is important, in my opinion, to recognize that mood adjusts automatically to fit the
perceived net benefits of tasks. I believe it is general human experience that capacities to
act and perceptions of pain or pleasure adapt to circumstances. Danger stimulates us to fight
or flee. Anger makes us ignore danger and pain. Though deprivation of necessities of life
causes discomfort and unhappiness, we get used to prolonged hardship, probably so that we
can cope with unavoidable misery. Soldiers and prisoners living in frightful conditions
eventually cheer up and joke about their state, though, of course, they are not happy. It is
a mistake to separate the disutility of labor from the utility of its reward or to imagine that
labor is normally perceived as disagreeable. The utilities of labor itself and of its reward
interact.
3. A Formal Model
In the usual incentive model, a worker expends effort, e, which is a non-negative
number, and receives in exchange a wage, w(e), which is a non-decreasing function of e.
The worker chooses e so as to maximize
u(w(e)) – c(e),
where both u and c are increasing functions and u is concave and c is convex. The first term
is the utility of consumption purchased with the wage and the second is the disutility of
effort. In this model, the consumer prefers to expend as little effort as possible to earn a
given income, so that if the wage does not increase with effort, the consumer expends none
of it whatsoever. Because effort creates disutility, people acting according to the model
would experience work as unpleasant, which is contrary to what most people say (Juster,
1985). If we try to escape this difficulty by assuming that c(e) is zero, then the worker offers
the maximum effort possible if w(e) increases with e, an implication contradicting common
sense. This difficulty can be evaded by assuming that c(e) decreases with e until it reaches
4The earnings, w(e), could be vector including pay, praise, promotion, and other rewards.
5Here and elsewhere, I choose the additively separable functional form for convenience of
exposition, not out of conviction.
8
a certain level, beyond which it increases. If the functions u and c are differentiable, then
the optimum level of effort satisfies the equation
, du(w(e))
de
' dc(e)
de
from which it is easy to see that increasing the level of the function w(e) by adding a
positive constant decreases effort (or, more accurately, does not increase it), whereas
optimal effort increases (or does not decrease) when the slope of w(e) at the optimum is
increased without increasing the function’s level there. These conclusions seem consistent
with reality. A difficulty with the model is that it does not distinguish reward from
punishment, though this distinction is crucial in reality. There is no way of determining
what level of utility marks the boundary between punishment and reward.
I now modify the above model to obtain one that retains its plausible conclusions and
yet does not represent labor as a burden, gives a role to emotion in mobilizing and directing
the powers of mind and body, and includes a distinction between reward and punishment.
I try to model mood, because it is important to the explanations of wage rigidity given by
managers and labor leaders. The model is suggested by the analogies described in the
previous section.
Focus on an action (or program of actions), e, to be taken by a person over a fixed
period of time. Though e may be thought of as effort, it is better to interpret it as productive
activity. The action has an unconsciously felt mental and physical cost, measured as the
number, C(e), and earns income w(e), which might be a wage paid by an employer.4 The
unconsciously felt benefit to the worker of the wage is the number B(w(e)), and the net
unconscious gain is
B(w(e)) – C(e).5
Unconscious goals could include the basic psychological drives as well as fidelity to family,
firm, or country. Assume that the function B is increasing and strictly concave.
I propose that people unconsciously adjust their mood and general state of mobilization
so that conscious choices maximize B(w(e)) – C(e). The conscious person does not choose
e but makes a decision (or program of decisions), d. The actual action taken is e = E(d, m),
where m is the person’s mood and state of mental and physical arousal. The decision d
9
might correspond to the pace of work desired by the person, whereas E(d, m) is the realized
pace of work; the person might actually work faster or slower than he or she intended. The
person’s consciously experienced utility is
U(w(E(d, m)), m) + V(E(d, m), m),
where the first term is the utility of the earnings and the second is the utility from the action
itself. The person chooses the decision, d = D(m, w), so as to solve the problem
max
d0D
[U(w(E(d, m)), m) % V(E(d, m), m)],
where D is the set of possible decisions. The unconscious side of the person chooses the
mood, m, so as maximize the unconscious utility, that is, to solve the problem
max
m0M
[B(w(E(D(m, w), m))) & C(E(D(m, w), m)))],
where M is the set of possible moods.
If the person has a preexisting state of mind or mood, then his or her unconscious self
may not be able to choose m freely, but must chose from a subset, SM, of M. The subset
SM may be thought of as representing restrictions imposed by solution of a larger
unconscious utility maximization problem that determines the context of the one under
consideration. For instance, the person may be frightened by some danger, which may be
escaped through the actions under consideration.
The standard results mentioned earlier regarding incentives apply to the new model,
when interpreted properly. Imagine a two dimensional plot with –C(E(D(m, w), m)) on the
abscissa and B(w(E(D(m, w), m))) on the ordinate, as in Figure 1. The unconscious chooses
m so as to maximize the sum of the two components, so that the northeast frontier of the plot
is the relevant set of points. I compare two earnings functions w and wN and assume that
{E(D(m, w), m): m 0 SM} = {E(D(m, wN), m): m 0 SM} / E,
so that the set of possible actions achievable by manipulation of mood does not depend on
the earnings function. Then, the two-dimensional plots are of the sets
{(–C(e), B(w(e))): e 0 E} and {(–C(e), B(wN(e))): e 0 E}.
If wN is w plus a positive constant, then, because of the strict concavity of the function B,
the northeast frontier of {(–C(e), B(wN(e))): e 0 E} is no steeper than that of
10
{(–C(e), B(w(e))): e 0 E}, so that at the optimum the disutility of effort, C(e), is no higher
with the earnings function wN than with the function w.
The second standard result regarding incentives is that making w steeper at the optimum
does not decrease effort. In the new model, it is not possible to speak of the slope of w
because the action variable, e, may not be a number. However, by an analogous definition,
wN is “at least as steep” as w at e if wN(e) = w(e), where e is the optimum for w, and if
wN(e) $ w(e), whenever w(e) $ w(e), and wN(e) # w(e), whenever w(e) # w(e). Given this
definition, it is obvious that if wN is at least as steep as w at e, then –C(eN) # –C(e) and
wN(eN) $ w(e), where eN is the optimum with earnings function wN. That is, steepening the
earnings function does not decrease the unconscious disutility of effort at the optimum.
The utility V(E(d, m), m) may be positive if mood favors effort, though V may decrease
with effort when it is increased beyond a point appropriate for the mood. What I have in
mind may perhaps best be explained by returning to the usual model in which the effort
variable is a number corresponding to the pace of work. In this spirit, assume for the
moment that d and m are non-negative numbers, where larger values of m correspond to a
better mood. Assume also that E(d, m) = d, and that w(e) = e, so that e and w can be
suppressed. Finally, assume that U and V are twice differentiable functions satisfying
the following conditions: MU(d, m)/Md > 0, M2U(d, m)/Md2 < 0, M2U(d, m)/MmMd > 0,
MV(0, m)/Md > 0, M2V(d, m)/Md2 < 0, and M2V(d, m)/MmMd > 0, for all d and m. Let d = D(m)
solve the problem
max
d$0
[U(d, m) % V(d, m)].
Under the given conditions, it is easy to see that D is a non-decreasing function of m and is
increasing at values of m for which D(m) > 0. That is, improved mood increases effort.
Notice also that at the optimum,
MV(d, m)
Md
< 0,
so that the worker finds increased effort unpleasant. From now on, I drop the assumption
that d and m are numbers.
Rationality It is natural to ask whether people behaving as in the above model are rational.
Economists define people to be rational if they reason correctly and use all available
information in order to maximize their utility. The model is consistent with rationality, if
we allow utility maximization to occur at two levels, the conscious and the unconscious.
The effect of mood on realized actions and on conscious objectives does not contradict
rationality. However, in a loose sense the model is inconsistent with rationality. Realistic
models of conventional rationality take account of limits on the ability of the conscious
11
mind to reason and use information. No doubt, sentiment influences imperfect logic, so that
a more realistic version of the above model should take account of the effect of mood on
reasoning.
The model accomplishes the objectives of giving mood a role in motivation and allows
workers to enjoy positive utility from work, all while preserving the obvious common sense
results about the impact of financial incentives. However, the model fails to permit a
distinction between reward and punishment, nor does it include morale or explain why pay
reductions have such a severe impact on mood.
Normal Life I now assume that the unconscious mind forms a notion of what is normal in
terms of unconscious living standards. This idea of normality may be thought of as useful
for two reasons; it tells the mind what to store as habits or mental subroutines and it serves
as a trigger level for alarm. The mind adapts habits to the way of life that is expected to be
normal. Decline of living standards below normal signals the unconscious that something
is wrong, provoking anger, unhappiness, or distress. These moods, in turn, stimulate the
conscious mind to make efforts to find solutions to the problems that have arisen. It is not
efficient for the conscious mind always to be stimulated and on the look-out for new
solutions, for bad moods and the efforts they incite are exhausting. Therefore, bad moods
should be called upon only when needed. The normal or expected path of welfare may
grow, shrink, or fluctuate over time. For instance, salespeople expect their income to
fluctuate sharply and probably react badly only to prolonged patterns of low income. A fall
in welfare below the expected level may not trigger alarm if the conscious mind can
persuade the unconscious one that there is no reason to worry, that the bad situation will
soon be rectified, or that there is nothing to be done about it. The unconscious probably
adapts gradually to lower welfare, as do the soldiers mentioned earlier.
Rewards may be defined to be payments that provide welfare in excess of the normal
level, whereas punishments may be defined to be payments that bring welfare below the
normal level. Punishments have a greater impact than rewards because they provoke a
powerful negative emotional reaction and rewards trigger no corresponding positive
reaction. Rewards or punishments that are too frequent become normal and so lose their
impact; a matter of concern to managers.
A pay cut causes anxiety and discontent because the fall in workers’ welfare below the
normal level both triggers bad moods and requires the effort of adopting new habits
appropriate to the new standard of living. Pay cuts that are perceived as justified are also
thought of as inevitable, and so do not provoke a strongly negative mood.
It is easy to incorporate a normal welfare level in an intertemporal version of the formal
model. The external conditions of the person’s decision problem at one time, t, are defined
by the earnings function, wt(e), and by the set of possible decisions, Dt. Let the function
Dt(m, wt) be the solution to the problem
12
max
d0Dt
[U(wt(E(d, m)), m) % V(E(d, m), m)].
The unconscious welfare in period t is
Wt
' max
m0SM
[B(wt(E(Dt(m, wt), m))) & C(E(Dt(m, wt), m)))].
The expected or normal welfare level may be assumed to be a constant, W, so that the
person reacts with anger and discontent when Wt falls below W.
Coercion and Freedom Managers and labor leaders stressed that workers are energized
by the feeling that they control their lives and are antagonized and made passive by compulsion
and excessive control. These matters are beyond the scope of the model presented
here and are not easy to think about carefully. For instance, it is difficult to define coercion
precisely. Presumably, it implies a lack of freedom, but a person who is coerced into doing
something, strictly speaking, also chooses to do it, for he or she could refuse to comply and
suffer the consequences. Also, everyone works under some degree of compulsion. For
instance, stealing from the company or punching the boss usually lead automatically to
firing, so that people are in a sense forced not to do these things. Similarly, blatant
insubordination can bring firing, so that workers may be said to be compelled to take orders.
When managers spoke of coercion, they did not refer to cases such as these. A rough
definition of what they had in mind might be that a worker is compelled to do something if
not doing it results in punishment and if the worker would do something else if there were
no threat of punishment and he or she had good morale. The key aspects of coercion that
managers and labor leaders found demotivating were that they hurt morale, frighten people,
and diminish self-confidence. Though fear is understood by all to be a powerful and useful
motivator, managers typically use threats only to discourage extreme behavior. They do not
want workers to be preoccupied with fear, for it distracts and undermines self-confidence.
The latter is important, because it frees the mind and body to act smoothly and efficiently.
An apprehensive person consciously thinks through every step of what they do lest they
make a mistake, and conscious thought overrides the mental subroutines that guide much
of what people do. In relation to the formal model, lack of self-confidence limits the set of
moods to a disadvantageous subset.
Extreme forms of coercion may lead to what psychologists call learned helplessness,
which, from what I understand of the subject, involves not just loss of self-confidence but
reduction in mental activity as well, perhaps with the unconscious goal of desensitizing the
brain to pain.
13
4. Extension to Morale
Recall that morale has two key aspects, mood and internalization of organizational
objectives. Internalization may be expressed by including the firm’s objectives among those
of the worker. This procedure is appropriate, since utility functions are inferred from
behavior and workers who internalize their firm’s objectives act as if these were their own.
Formally, let R(e) be the revenue the firm earns from a worker’s output, so that the firm’s
profit is R(e) – w(e). Internalization may be expressed formally by adding multiples of the
firm’s profit to the worker’s conscious and unconscious utility functions, so that these
become
B(w(e)) % F1[R(e) & w(e)] & C(e) and
U(w(e), m) % F2[R(e) & w(e)] % V(e, m),
respectively, where F1 and F2 are constants that are positive if morale is good and should be
thought of as part of the worker’s personality. The impact of morale on mood may be
expressed by varying the subset SM of possible moods available to the unconscious side of
the person. Improvements in morale increase the size of the set SM, thereby giving the
unconscious a larger selection of possible states of mind. Improvements in mood resulting
from improved morale do not decrease and may increase the maximized value of the
unconscious objective function B(w(e)) + F1[R(e) – w(e)] – C(e), because it is maximized
over a larger set of moods. That is, if d = D(m, w) solves the problem
max
d0D
{U(w(E(d, m), m) % F2[R(E(d, m) & w(e)] % V(E(d, m), m)},
then the value of
max
m0SM
{B(w(E(D(m, w),m)) % F1[R(E(D(m, w), m) & w(E(D(m, w), m)]
& C(E(D(m, w), m)}
increases as the size of the set SM increases.
Without more assumptions, it is not possible to say whether the effect of improved
morale on mood increases profits. A plausible set of assumptions is that the wage function,
w, is constant and that improvements in morale enlarge SM in such a way as to make
available actions or effort levels, e, that increase R(e) for each level of C(e) and furthermore
increase R(e) more, the greater is C(e). Imagine a two-dimensional diagram, such as Figure
2, with –C(e) on the abscissa and B(w) + F1(R(e) – w) on the ordinate. Then, improvement
in morale causes the northeast frontier of the set of possible points (–C(e), B(w) + F1(R(e)
– w)) to rise vertically in such a way that the vertical increase is greater the larger is C(e)
6 Akerlof and Kranton (1998) model the moral aspects of identity as internalized rules restricting
the utility function.
14
(i.e., the smaller is –C(e)). Because w is constant, it follows that the new optimum yields
a higher value of R(e) and a lower value of –C(e). In other words, improved morale affects
mood in such a way as to increase profits.
Assume that the utility functions B and U are differentiable with respect to income, w,
so that the unconscious and conscious marginal utilities of income, dB/dw and MU/Mw,
respectively, are well-defined. It must be that
(4.1) µ1 < dB(w(e))
dw
and
(4.2) µ2 < MU(w(e), m)
Mw
,
for levels of e and m that are actually realized. If these inequalities did not hold, the worker
would be indifferent to having his or her wage increased, or would prefer to have it reduced,
contrary to common sense.
The inclusion of profit in the worker’s utility function does not portray the sort of good
morale that inhibits theft, for according to inequalities (4.1) and (4.2), workers could
improve their welfare by stealing from the employer. In order to give a utilitarian interpretation
to moral values, it is necessary either to include punishment, to introduce a sense
of guilt, or to have people take into account the consequences of having other people break
moral codes they break themselves.6
Though the model cannot explain the impact of morale on morality, it does capture
important consequences of good morale. Using the argument made in the previous section,
it is easy to show that the inclusion of the terms
F1[R(e) & w(e)] and
F2[R(e) & w(e)]
does not decrease and may increase profits. More precisely, profits do not decrease,
provided F1 is positive and provided the inclusion of these terms does not change the set of
actions, e, achievable by varying mood, m. In order to see why, let e be the choice of e that
maximizes B(w(e)) – C(e) and let eN be the choice of e that maximizes B(w(e)) + F1[R(e)
– w(e)] – C(e). Then,
15
B(w(eN)) % F1[R(eN) – w(eN)] & C(eN) $ B(w(e)) % F1[R(e) & w(e)] & C(e)
$ B(w(eN)) % F1[R(e) & w(e)] & C(eN),
which implies that R(eN) – w(eN) $ R(e) – w(e), as is to be shown.
Financial Incentives and Morale I next show that financial incentives and morale
complement each other. An argument similar to the one just made shows that increasing F1
does not decrease and may increase profits, for any wage function w, including ones offering
financial incentives. In order to see how to make the argument, assume that F1’ > F1, notice
that
B(w(e) % F1N[R(e) & w(e)] & C(e)
' B(w(e)) % F1[R(e) & w(e)] & C(e) % (F1N & F1)[R(e) & w(e)],
and assume that increasing F1 to F1N does not change the set of actions achievable by varying
mood.
I next show that if F1 is positive, then increasing financial incentives increases profits,
provided the function B is not too concave and provided the change in F1 does not change
the set of actions attainable by choice of mood. Introduce explicit incentives by assuming
that w(e) = w0 + w1R(e), where w1 > 0. Assume that the firm varies w0 and w1 so that w0
+ w1R(e) remains constant, where e is the worker’s choice of action. Now, hold w0, w0N, w1,
and w1N fixed, where w1N > w1. Assume that B is linear, that is, B(w) = bw, where b is a
positive number. By inequality (4.1), we must assume that b > F1. I show that increasing
w1 to w1N increases profits. Let e and eN be the worker’s optimal choices of e when the wage
is w0 + w1R(e) and w0N + w1NR(e), respectively. By the optimality of e and eN, it follows that
(4.3)
b[w0
% w1R(e)] % F1[R(e) & w0
& w1R(e)] & C(e)
$ b[w0
% w1R(eN)] % F1[R(eN) & w0
& w1R(eN)] & C(eN) and
(4.4)
b[w0N % w1NR(eN)] % F1[R(eN) & w0N & w1NR(eN)] & C(eN)
$ b[w0N % w1NR(e)] % F1[R(e) & w0N & w1NR(e)] & C(e).
These inequalities imply that
(b – F1)w1[R(e) – R(eN)] $ C(e) – C(eN) + F1[R(eN) – R(e)] $ (b – F1)w1N[R(e) – R(eN)].
16
Because b – F1 > 0 and w1’ > w1, the last inequalities imply that
R(eN) $ R(e).
Since by assumption w0 + w1R(e) = w0N + w1NR(eN), it follows that profits are not decreased
by increasing incentives. Profits would be strictly increased if there were strict inequality
in either of inequalities (4.3) or (4.4). In this case, profits would still increase if the function
B(w) were a slightly concave approximation to the linear function bw. It is easy to make
an example in which B is very concave and increased incentives decrease profits. This
completes the argument that increased incentives may increase profits, even when morale
is good, just as improved morale increases profits even when workers receive financial
incentives. It is in this sense that incentives and morale are complements.
Cooperation The model can be used to demonstrate one reason good morale fosters
cooperation among workers; it gives them a common objective. Let there be N workers and
let the subscript n indicate variables and functions applying to the nth worker. The employer
observes worker n’s output to be
yn(en) ' yn(En(dn, mn))
and pays him or her
wn(yn(en)) ' wn(yn(En(dn, mn))).
The actual output of all N workers is
y(e1, ..., eN) ' y(E1(d1, m1), ..., EN(dN, mN)).
Worker n’s unconscious utility is
Bn(wn(yn(en))) % Fn1[R(y(e1, ..., eN)) & w1(y1(e1)) & @@@ & wN(yN(eN))] & C(en),
and his or her conscious utility is
Un(wn(yn(En(dn, mn))), mn) % Fn2[R(y(E1(d1, m1), ..., EN(dN, mN)))
& w1(y1(E1(d1, m1))) & @@@ & wN(yN(EN(dN, mN)))] % V(En(dn, mn), mn).
17
Interaction among the N workers suggests a coordination game, for they all derive utility
from profits. In order to see the connection more clearly, assume that workers’ moods
adjust so that the utility of labor, V(En(dn, mn), mn), is the same for all decisions dn actually
adopted by the workers, so that this term may be ignored. In addition, suppress mood and
the distinction between the conscious choice, dn, and the realized action, en, and focus on
conscious utility, since cooperation is arranged deliberately. Suppose that the choice of
action has two components, selection of a method of production and the selection of effort,
thought of as the pace of work. Since effort is influenced by mood, which is governed
unconsciously and almost automatically, it makes sense to ignore the effort part of actions
and to think of these solely as production methods. Under these assumptions, the relevant
utility functions are
(4.5) Un(wn(yn(en))) % Fn2[R(y(e1, ..., eN)) & w1(y1(e1))] & @@@ & wN(yN(eN))],
for n = 1, ..., N. If the parameters Fn2 are positive and the functions wn are constant, as
would be the case for truly fixed wages, then the workers in effect play a coordination game
with payoff R(y(e1, ..., eN)) for all players, and the obvious solution is to maximize this
payoff jointly. However, management normally gives workers at least some financial
incentives linked to individual performance, such as production targets, performance
evaluations, promotion criteria, and piece rates. I was told that it is difficult to design
incentives so that workers’ financial interests are entirely consistent with those of the firm.
An important function of good morale is to motivate workers to act in the firm’s interest,
even when it conflicts with their own financial advantage. I show that the above model
includes this function. More precisely, I argue that cooperation induced by internalization
of the firm’s goals increases profits.
Suppose that morale is neutral. That is, suppose that Fn2 = 0, for all n. In addition,
suppose that the wage functions, wn, include financial incentives. For each n, let en be that
value of en that maximizes Un(wn(yn(en))). With these choices of effort, the firm’s profit is
R(y(e
1
, ..., e
N
)) & w1(y1(e
1
)) & @@@ & wN(yN(e
N
)).
In contrast, suppose now that morale is good, so that the Fn2 are all positive. Though it
is hard to say how the workers would behave, it would be to their mutual advantage to
choose actions that 1) were a Nash equilibrium for the game with payoffs as (¯e1, ..., ¯eN)
in (4.5) and 2) gave each worker, n, a payoff exceeding Un(wn(yn(en))) + F2[R(y(e1, ..., eN))
– w1(y1(e1)) – @@@ – wN(yN(eN))]. Suppose that such an equilibrium exists. Because of the
form of utility (4.5) and because Fn2 is positive and en maximizes Un(wn(yn(en))), for all n,
it follows that
18
R(¯e1, ..., ¯eN) & w1(¯e1) & @@@ & wN(¯eN)
> R(y(e
1
, ..., e
N
)) & w1(y1(e
1
)) & @@@ & wN(yN(e
N
)).
That is, internalization of the firm’s objectives increases profits.
Information Sharing One of the reasons it is difficult to give workers incentives consistent
with the firm’s objectives is that the conditions workers face change frequently, so that the
actions that are correct from the employer’s point of view also change. If management knew
conditions precisely, it could order workers to do exactly what was needed or it could
include the conditions in the specification of incentives. However, often only the workers
observe the relevant changes in circumstances. Managers said that one of the benefits of
good morale is that it induces workers to share information with each other and with
superiors. This advantage can be introduced into the above model by having company
revenues depend on random variables observed by the workers alone. For instance, assume
that worker n observes the random variable n and that company revenue depends on all the
n, so that utility function (4.5) becomes
Un(wn(yn(en))) % Fn2[R(y(e1, ..., eN); 1, ..., N)) & w1(y1(e1)) & @@@ & wN(yN(eN))],
If all workers reveal the values they observe of the n, then workers can cooperate more
effectively and expected profits and hence expected individual utilities earned from
cooperation may increase and will not decrease, provided the parameters Fn2 are all positive.
Hence, workers have a positive incentive to share their observations with each other and
with management.
Morale versus Coercion Managers explained that the chief disadvantage of using threats
to obtain cooperation is the loss of worker initiative. Though force may succeed in making
people work with great intensity, people working under such pressure may only make a
show of cooperation and may not use their heads to help the firm. I was told that coercion
works well for tasks that are easily monitored and when management knows what employees
should do; managers said that compulsion is inefficient when workers know best what they
ought to do because of information they alone receive. I express these ideas formally using
an example in which I suppress mood, the unconscious, and the distinction between
decisions and realized effort, since these are irrelevant here. Suppose a worker may do one
of two types of tasks, A and B, and that these are performed with intensities, IA and IB,
respectively, where IA and IB are non-negative numbers. The action e = (i, I) is task i done
with intensity I, where i = A or B. Let the disutility of doing either task, i, with intensity I
be –V(i, I) = I2 and let the utility of wage, w, be simply U(w) = w. Suppose that one and
19
only one of the tasks is profitable, that management does not know which task is profitable,
and that the worker can learn which is profitable at a small cost in utility. Suppose further
that management observes the intensity level, that task A is profitable with probability p,
where 1/2 < p < 1, and that a task done with intensity I earns revenues R(i, I) = , when I
it is profitable, and earns no revenue otherwise. Finally, suppose that to retain the worker,
management has to offer a reservation utility level of at least 1/16. If the firm obtains
cooperation through threats, morale is zero and the worker cannot be counted on to do the
task that is profitable. In this case, optimal management strategy is to set the wage, w, equal
to [1 + (2p)4/3]/16, to fix the task to be A, and to require work intensity, I, to be (2p)2/3/4, for
these values solve the profit maximization problem
max
w, I
[pR(A, I) & w]
s.t. U(w) % V(I) $ 1/16 or
max
w, I
[p I & w]
s.t. w & I2 $ 1/16.
The firm fires the worker if work intensity is less than (2p)2/3/4, in which case the worker
earns his or her reservation utility level of 1/16. The firm’s expected profits are the positive
number [3p(2p)2/3/8] – 1/16, and expected revenues are [p(2p)1/3]/2.
Suppose management does not threaten, but depends on positive morale. Assume that
in this case the morale parameter, F2, equals 1/2. Then, the worker’s total utility function
is
U(w) % V(I) % F2[R(i, I) & w] ' w & I2 % 0.5[R(i, I) & w],
minus a small quantity if the worker verifies which task is profitable. Assuming the worker
knows which task is profitable, he or she solves the problem
max
I
[&I2 % 0.5 I],
so that work intensity is I = 1/4, which is less than the intensity in the previous case with
compulsion and no morale. However, because the worker chooses the profitable task, the
firm’s expected revenues are = 1/2, which exceeds the level with no morale. If the I
firm continues to pay wage w = [1 + (2p)4/3]/16, then total expected worker utility, U(w) +
V(I) + F2[R(i, I) – w], is at least 1/16, and expected profits are higher with positive morale
than with no morale, unless [p(2p)1/3]/2 > 1/2, i.e., unless p > 0.51/4 ï 0.84. That is, coercion
20
is more profitable than dependence on morale alone only if management knows with high
probability which task is profitable, a result that corresponds to the intuition I wish to
express.
5. Testing the Model
The proposed model of work motivation might be tested by psychological experiments.
One implication of the model is that the utility or disutility of work effort depends on
expected reward. In testing this implication, it would not be correct to measure the disutility
of effort by offering people a choice between effort and something else, such as having to
pay a certain amount of money, for that choice would affect the context of the work and
hence might affect mood. However, something might be learned by asking people how they
feel about their efforts. By looking for consistency in people’s reactions to various work
and reward situations, it might be possible to test for the existence of an unconscious utility
function and even to estimate it.
6. Conclusion
The usual model describes a worker’s trade-off between financial reward and the
disutility of labor and has no place for morale. However, neither managers nor labor leaders
dwelled on the unpleasantness of work, but rather stressed its benefits. Managers spoke as
if one of their primary tasks was to maintain good morale, and labor leaders also emphasized
its importance. In view of these observations, it seems appropriate to replace the usual
model with one more consistent with the observations of people running work places. I do
not know whether my own suggestions are correct. Perhaps further empirical inquiry will
give a firmer basis for theory.
 
Re: WORST CASE SOME ONE!!!

Job Analysis is a process to identify and determine in detail the particular job duties and requirements and the relative importance of these duties for a given job. Job Analysis is a process where judgements are made about data collected on a job.
The Job; not the person An important concept of Job Analysis is that the analysis is conducted of the Job, not the person. While Job Analysis data may be collected from incumbents through interviews or questionnaires, the product of the analysis is a description or specifications of the job, not a description of the person.


Purpose of Job Analysis
The purpose of Job Analysis is to establish and document the 'job relatedness' of employment procedures such as training, selection, compensation, and performance appraisal.
Determining Training Needs
Job Analysis can be used in training/"needs assessment" to identify or develop:

training content
assessment tests to measure effectiveness of training
equipment to be used in delivering the training
methods of training (i.e., small group, computer-based, video, classroom...)
Compensation
Job Analysis can be used in compensation to identify or determine:

skill levels
compensable job factors
work environment (e.g., hazards; attention; physical effort)
responsibilities (e.g., fiscal; supervisory)
required level of education (indirectly related to salary level)
Selection Procedures
Job Analysis can be used in selection procedures to identify or develop:

job duties that should be included in advertisements of vacant positions;
appropriate salary level for the position to help determine what salary should be offered to a candidate;
minimum requirements (education and/or experience) for screening applicants;
interview questions;
selection tests/instruments (e.g., written tests; oral tests; job simulations);
applicant appraisal/evaluation forms;
orientation materials for applicants/new hires
Performance Review
Job Analysis can be used in performance review to identify or develop:

goals and objectives
performance standards
evaluation criteria
length of probationary periods
duties to be evaluated


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Methods of Job Analysis
Several methods exist that may be used individually or in combination. These include:
review of job classification systems
incumbent interviews
supervisor interviews
expert panels
structured questionnaires
task inventories
check lists
open-ended questionnaires
observation
incumbent work logs
A typical method of Job Analysis would be to give the incumbent a simple questionnaire to identify job duties, responsibilities, equipment used, work relationships, and work environment. The completed questionnaire would then be used to assist the Job Analyst who would then conduct an interview of the incumbent(s). A draft of the identified job duties, responsibilities, equipment, relationships, and work environment would be reviewed with the supervisor for accuracy. The Job Analyst would then prepare a job description and/or job specifications.

The method that you may use in Job Analysis will depend on practical concerns such as type of job, number of jobs, number of incumbents, and location of jobs.


What Aspects of a Job Are Analyzed?
Job Analysis should collect information on the following areas:
Duties and Tasks The basic unit of a job is the performance of specific tasks and duties. Information to be collected about these items may include: frequency, duration, effort, skill, complexity, equipment, standards, etc.
Environment This may have a significant impact on the physical requirements to be able to perform a job. The work environment may include unpleasant conditions such as offensive odors and temperature extremes. There may also be definite risks to the incumbent such as noxious fumes, radioactive substances, hostile and aggressive people, and dangerous explosives.
Tools and Equipment Some duties and tasks are performed using specific equipment and tools. Equipment may include protective clothing. These items need to be specified in a Job Analysis.
Relationships Supervision given and received. Relationships with internal or external people.
Requirements The knowledges, skills, and abilities (KSA's) required to perform the job. While an incumbent may have higher KSA's than those required for the job, a Job Analysis typically only states the minimum requirements to perform the job.
 
Re: WORST CASE SOME ONE!!!

:SugarwareZ-191: :SugarwareZ-191: nice one.............................for a change........................................
 

Attachments

Re: WORST CASE SOME ONE!!!

In knowing yourself, you should aim to take control of your career. There are three reasons why you should take control of your own career: today's reduced security of employment, new employment opportunities and the move away from linear careers. By taking control you are better placed to achieve an appropriate balance between work and family commitments, between remuneration and job satisfaction and between security and opportunity.



To achieve this balance you will need to understand your values, preferences and assumptions in relation to your work. These will affect the way you view your work, your commitment to it and the ways in which you work. Your values and preferences, however, will change over time as your family and financial circumstances alter. So you are likely to want different things from work at different stages of your life.
three interacting cycles that affect individuals' work at different stages of their lives:

Bio-social. The changing physical capacities and emotional states that individuals have as they age. For instance, younger people may have the health and energy to cope with fast paced jobs.

Family relationship. The different needs, expectations and responsibilities that family circumstances present during an individual's life. For example, the need to care for elderly parents may limit where and how much someone can work.

Career. The various societal expectations of work and career patterns that individuals respond to in different ways as they age.

term 'career anchor' to describe the different key values that people hold in relation to work. In his view people try to find a way to live that accords with the values that are most important to them.identified eight career anchor categories, and although not everyone fits easily into a single category, this classification can provide useful insights.



Technical/functional competence. Because they are talented and enjoy being regarded as an expert, people in this category have a sense of identity arising from the content of their work, and seek to develop and increase their skills.




General managerial competence. These people tend to view specialisation as a trap, and recognise the importance of knowing about several functional areas. They develop expertise at the level of their business or industry. Opportunities for leadership, high income, higher levels of responsibility and contributing to the success of their organisation are key values and motives.
Autonomy/independence. These individuals find it difficult to be bound by other people's rules, procedures, working hours and so on. They like to do things in their own way, at their own pace and to their own standards. They do not like work to interfere with their private life, so they prefer to make independent careers on their own terms. They may opt for a lower-grade job rather than give up autonomy and independence.




Security/stability. Some people need safety, security and predictability and will seek jobs with permanence and a minimal redundancy record. These individuals tend to identify with their jobs and careers. Their need for security and stability constrains alternative career choices.




Entrepreneurial creativity. Some people like to create new organisations, products or services that can be identified with their own efforts.




Sense of service/dedication. This describes those who enter occupations because of central values they want to embody in their work. They are often concerned more with these values than with the areas of competence involved in the work.
Pure challenge. These individuals define success in terms of overcoming apparently impossible obstacles, solving apparently insoluble problems or just winning. For some the challenge is in terms of more difficult jobs or tasks; for others it is in competitive and interpersonal terms.




Lifestyle. For these people career must be integrated with total lifestyle, balancing individual needs, family needs and career needs. They look for an organisational attitude that reflects respect for personal and family concerns
 
Re: WORST CASE SOME ONE!!!

Think back over your career to date and jot down some notes in answer to the following questions:

How did you secure your present job?

What skills and experience did you have at the time?

Which job or position would you like to be holding in: a) five years' time b) ten years' time?

What skills, knowledge, experience and qualifications will you need to achieve these goals?

What will you need to have achieved in three years' time?

What is the next step and when should you take it?

What three or four key actions do you need to take to move along your identified career route?

What alternative career outcomes would meet your needs?
 
Re: WORST CASE SOME ONE!!!

DOES this sound like where you work: Most people pay only lip service to orders from on high, knowing there are rarely unpleasant consequences.

Conversely, people with initiative wait endlessly for go-aheads and when approval finally comes are subjected to endless second-guessing.

If these examples describe your company, you are working for a ''passive-aggressive organization,'' according to Karen E. Van Nuys and Gary L. Neilson, consultants for Booz Allen Hamilton, and Bruce A. Pasternack, president and chief executive of the Special Olympics, writing in the current Harvard Business Review.

The authors surveyed the landscape and concluded only 31 percent of companies could be classified as ''healthy'' -- that is, ''their managers have access to good, timely information, the authority to make informed decisions and the incentives to make them on behalf of the organization, which promptly and capably carries them out.''

While they could not reach a conclusion about 15 percent of the companies they evaluated, the authors classified the remaining 54 percent as ''unhealthy,'' and exactly half of those fell into the passive-aggressive category, which ''takes its name from the organization's quiet but tenacious resistance, in every way but openly, to corporate directives.''

Can these companies be rehabilitated? The authors have their doubts, since ''passive-aggressive organizations are, by definition, uniquely resistant to change.''

The article is adapted from the book ''Results,'' written by Mr. Neilson and Mr. Pasternack, being published this month by Crown.

AGGRESSIVE-AGGRESSIVE -- There is nothing passive about Eli Broad's approach to philanthropy, Alpha magazine reports in its current issue.

Mr. Broad created two Fortune 500 companies -- KB Homes and SunAmerica -- and today devotes much of his time and money to the Broad foundations, three philanthropic organizations trying to improve education, finance medical research and promote the arts.

The Broad foundations have combined assets of $1.4 billion, writes Stephen Taub, and Mr. Broad wants to double that in the next three years.

''To that end he plans to donate more of his billions,'' Mr. Taub adds. ''He is also looking to a far riskier source of capital: hedge funds.''

That is consistent with the history of Mr. Broad, whom Mr. Taub said is ''one of the biggest individual hedge fund investors in the world.''

The chief investment officer for the Broad foundations and the family's personal funds ''oversees about $5 billion, including a whopping $1 billion in hedge funds.''

''Hedge funds provide greater reward over time with less risk than stocks and bonds,'' Mr. Broad, 72, said.

EXTRA DIVIDENDS -- ''The idea that dividends can foreshadow earnings sounds illogical, like using a sore backside to predict a kick in the pants,'' writes Jack Hough in Smart Money.

He's right. Since dividends are paid from money a company makes, you would expect earnings growth to predict dividend increases, not the other way around.

But Robert Arnott, a money manager, and Clifford Asness, who runs a hedge fund, studied the relationship between percentage of earnings paid as dividends -- the payout ratio -- and subsequent earnings growth. They found higher payout ratios predicted faster earnings growth over the next 10 years by a wide margin.

The authors of the study offered two possible explanations. First, since managers hate cutting dividends -- something that invariably causes the stock price to fall -- growing payout ratios signify extraordinary confidence in future earnings.

Explanation two is that paying so much out in dividends keeps managers from having money to make dumb acquisitions.

FINAL TAKE -- A very simple question yielded intriguing results. American Baby asked: ''Who is more worried about money, Mom or Dad?'' The findings were: Mom 46 percent and Dad 27 percent, while 27 percent said, ''We worry equally.''
 
Re: WORST CASE SOME ONE!!!

Causes and consequences of perceived goal differences between departments within manufacturing organizations.

Abstract:

Differences between departments' perceptions of goals are assumed to impede interdepartmental coordination because they are often biased and therefore likely to be related to interdepartmental conflict. Results from a study in 11 manufacturing organizations among 120 employees in manufacturing, planning and marketing departments show that employees believed that they pursued goals that are valuable to the organization more strongly than other departments. Manufacturing and marketing employees perceived the largest goal differences with regard to their own department goals. Planning employees perceived the largest goal differences with the manufacturing department with regard to the goals of marketing, and with the marketing department with regard to manufacturing goals. This suggests that the `boundaries' of the social identity of planning employees seem to change depending on which comparison is salient. The more an organization had an integrative strategy of competing on both low cost and high customer service, the smaller were some of the perceived goal differences. Furthermore, perceived goal differences were positively related to interdepartmental conflict frequency and seriousness. This study demonstrates the importance of reducing perceived goal differences, which can be achieved partly by interventions at the organizational level.


Full Text :COPYRIGHT 2001 British Psychological Society


Organizations are purposeful in nature, pursuing goals such as profit maximization, survival, and benefit to society (Miller & Arnold, 1998). As organizations grow larger, the overall organizational goals have to be split up into several different subgoals and divided over organization divisions, units, departments and people. As soon as goals are distributed over different departments within the organization, the problem of coordination arises. Organizations face the difficult problem of how to coordinate the goals and activities of all their members in such a way that overall company goals, such as making a profit and guaranteeing survival, are met. This is a serious problem because the goals of different departments not only tend to be different, but can also be incompatible (John, 1991).

A lot of research and many interventions have been carried out on the question of how to solve coordination problems within organizations (e.g. Bazaraa & Jarvis, 1977; Burns & Stalker, 1966; Galbraith, 1973; Mintzberg, 1979; Ouchi, 1980; Walton & Lawrence, 1985). Examples of possible solutions to the coordination problem include changing the organizational climate in such a way that all members are focused on common objectives (Dahler-Larsen, 1998), introducing `soft' human resource management (Beer, Spector, Lawrence, Mills, & Walton, 1984), developing performance control systems such as management by objectives (John 1991; Lawrence & Lorsch, 1967), and restructuring the organization from a functional to a process-oriented layout (Christopher, 1998; Majchrzak & Wang, 1996; Mintzberg, 1979). In fact, all these solutions share the same purpose: to make the organization perform as one well-integrated organism, in which all parts contribute to the overall goal of the organization.

Although it is widely acknowledged that the division of goals and tasks over different departments causes coordination problems, little research has been conducted on employees' perceptions of these goal differences. This is a serious limitation, because research on intergroup relations has shown that perceptions of intergroup differences, especially when they are biased, are one of the main sources of intergroup problems and conflicts (cf. Brewer, 1986; Brown, Condor, Matthews, Wade, & Williams, 1986; Fisher, 1990; Rubin, Pruitt, & Kim, 1994; Tajfel, 1970). We propose that perceptions of goal differences between departments can be a major source of interdepartmental coordination problems such as interdepartmental conflict because perceptions of goal differences often imply the belief that the respective group goals are incompatible as well. By studying this proposition, experimental research on intergroup relations and perceptions is applied to the field setting of interdepartmental coordination. Moreover, we will investigate not only the consequences of perceived goal differences in terms of interdepartmental conflict, but also some of their potential causes. The following research problem is addressed: are there differences between departments within organizations with regard to perceptions of their own goals and those of other departments? What are determinants of these perceived goal differences? And finally, what are the consequences of perceived goal differences in terms of interdepartmental conflict?

These research issues are examined in an organizational context which is well known for its coordination difficulties (Konijnendijk, 1994; Shapiro, 1977): we are focusing on perceived goal differences between manufacturing and planning departments as well as between planning and marketing departments.

Perceived goal differences

Shapiro (1977) wondered whether departments responsible for manufacturing (back-office departments) and departments responsible for marketing (front-office departments) could ever coexist. There is a structural conflict between back-office and front-office departments. While back-office departments usually aim at cost reduction by producing efficiently, front-office departments usually aim at revenue maximization by adapting to customer demands. Front-office goals tend to disrupt a swift and even flow of operations processes and are therefore to some extent incompatible with back-office goals (cf. Argyris, 1964; John, 1991; McCann & Galbraith, 1981; Schmenner & Swink, 1998; Shapiro, 1977; Skinner, 1974). However, the integration of back-office and front-office goals is very important to meet the overall goal of the organization. As John (1991) wrote: `If operating level decisions are guided by parochial rather than organization wide goals, the overall pattern will be inconsistent and counterproductive' (p. 213; see also Goldratt & Cox, 1993; McCann & Galbraith, 1981).

In this article, we examine two interfaces in which the structural conflict between the back and front office plays an important role: the interface between manufacturing and planning and the interface between planning and marketing.

An important goal of manufacturing departments is usually to produce high-quality products in efficient ways, an important goal of planning is usually to make efficient production schedules that guarantee quick and on-time delivery of products, and an important goal of marketing is usually to serve the customers by adapting flexibly to their demands and ensuring quick and on-time delivery (Nauta, De Dreu, & Van der Vaart, 2000). The role of planning is a special one, since planning represents the front office when dealing with manufacturing and the back office when dealing with marketing.

We assume that an important impediment to the effective coordination and integration of goals in the manufacturing-planning and in the planning-marketing interfaces is that employees of different departments tend to perceive larger goal differences than actually exist, due to psychological processes. Social identity theory (Brewer, 1986; Brown, 1988; Fisher, 1990; Hogg & Terry, 2000; Sherif & Sherif, 1953; Tajfel, 1970; Tajfel & Turner, 1979; Turner & Giles, 1981; White, 1977) can explain this psychological tendency.

According to social identity theory, the mere awareness of being a member of one department and not other departments creates perceptions that favour one's own group and reject other groups to some extent (Brewer, 1986; Fisher, 1990; Sherif & Sherif, 1953; Tajfel & Turner, 1979). Social identity theory proposes that individuals partly define themselves in terms of their group membership. Moreover, they seek a positive social identity by distinguishing their own group positively from other groups. People tend to perceive members of their own group as `good' and members of the other group as `bad' (Tajfel, 1970; White, 1977). By doing so, they not only create positive social identities but also justify their own attitudes and behaviour towards other groups. A study by Brown et al. (1986) indeed showed that subgroups within an industrial organization tend to differentiate their own group positively from other groups, as each group believed that it contributed more strongly to the overall functioning of the organization than the other subgroups.

From social identity theory we derive the proposition that employees in organizations will simultaneously overestimate the degree to which they themselves pursue goals that are valuable to the organization and underestimate the degree to which members of other departments pursue these goals. Moreover, such perceived goal differences are likely to increase in situations of conflicting interests (Brown et al., 1986; De Dreu, Nauta, & Van de Vliert, 1995; Thompson & Loewenstein, 1992). In this study, we will examine the extent to which employees perceive goal differences between their own and other departments, possibly increasing coordination problems. The following hypothesis is therefore formulated:

Hypothesis 1: In both the manufacturing-planning and the planning-marketing interfaces, employees believe that they are striving harder to achieve goals that are valuable to the organization than the members of the other department.

Social psychological research on biased in-group-out-group perceptions usually focuses on one evaluative dimension and shows in general that people tend to see the in-group as better than the out-group. However, in the reality of organizations, it can be assumed that what counts as good and as bad is viewed differently by different departments, since they are rewarded for different goals. Manufacturing is usually rewarded for efficiency and quality, planning for delivering fast and on time, and marketing for flexibility and customer service (cf. Nauta et al., 2000; Slack, Chambers, Harland, Harrison, & Johnston, 1998). As a consequence, it is likely that the three departments differ in the degree to which they find the different department goals to be important. Research has shown that self-serving biases are largest on dimensions that people find most important (cf. Alicke, 1985). For these reasons, it is likely that perceived goal differences are largest for the goals that are ascribed to one's own department, and smallest for the goals ascribed to the other departments. We will test the following hypothesis:

Hypothesis 2: The belief of employees that they are striving harder to achieve goals that are valuable to the organization than the members of the other department is stronger when their own department goals are concerned than when the goals of the other department are concerned. This applies to both the manufacturing-planning and the planning-marketing interface.

Causes of perceived goal differences

The organizational literature on resolving coordination problems can be viewed as descriptions of the organizational determinants of perceived goal differences. Various organizational characteristics, such as the type of strategy, structure, culture, manufacturing system and planning system, are all assumed to determine the degree of perceived goal differences. For example, it is likely that, in a functional structure with clear boundaries between manufacturing, planning and marketing departments, perceived goal differences will be larger than in a process-oriented structure in which manufacturing, planning and marketing work together in a multifunctional order-processing team (cf. Christopher, 1998). We assume that these various organizational characteristics, such as structure, culture, and technology, are to some extent aligned with each other (cf. Chandler, 1962; Lawrence & Lorsch, 1967; Porter, 1980; Skinner, 1974; Smith & Reece, 1999; Thompson, 1967) and that they come together in the specific organizational strategy (Sparrow, 1994). As adherents of a contingency approach to organizations argue, there is--or should be--a `fit' between strategy, structure, culture, and technology within an organization (Drazin & Van de Ven, 1985; Tosi & Slocum, 1984; Woodward, 1965). When assuming relationships between strategy, structure, culture and technology, it follows that strategy can be seen as an indicator of all other organizational aspects. We therefore examine the influence of organizational strategy on perceived goal differences.

The literature conceptualizes organizational strategy in many different ways (Mintzberg, Ahlstrand, & Lampel, 1998): e.g. strategy as the planning of activities (e.g. Johnson & Scholes, 1988), strategy as the vision of management (e.g. Westley & Mintzberg, 1991), or strategy as an organizational course recognized after the fact, deduced from its apparent actions (Weick, 1979). In this article, the strategy of an organization refers to the major distinctive competencies of the organization: that is, the aspects with which an organization attracts its customers and competes with other organizations, e.g. offering low prices or offering a high customer service (cf. Bowman & Asch, 1996; Miller & Roth, 1994; Porter, 1980, 1985; Skinner, 1974; Wheelwright, 1984). We assume that the distinctive competencies of an organization determine--and resemble to a large extent--the content of its structure, culture and technology. Furthermore, since corporations seldom have only one strategy, we focus on strategy at the level of the plant: that is, a medium-sized manufacturing unit at one physical location in which a range of products are made and sold.

Depending on the market in which organizations operate, two extreme types of organizational strategies can be found. At one extreme, there are organizations that compete solely based on low cost, whereas, at the other extreme, there are organizations competing based on high customer service (cf. Porter, 1980, 1985; Smith & Reece, 1999). Organizations with a low cost strategy operate in markets in which customers demand large volumes of products in low variety, whereas organizations with a high customer service strategy operate in the opposite type of markets: low volume/high variety (Slack et al., 1998).

A low cost strategy implies that manufacturing and planning functions play a dominant role, for these functions emphasize low cost, high efficiency and standardization (cf. Peelen, Van Goor, & Den Breejen, 1991). A high customer service strategy implies that the marketing function is dominant, for marketing emphasizes high customer service, high revenues, and differentiation (Peelen et al., 1991; Porter, 1980, 1985). Both strategies imply that priority is given to one goal above the other goal. Having clear priorities is to some extent an advantage: it gives clear guidelines for the design of various organizational parts. However, the disadvantage of clear priorities is that business opportunities that do not fit into these priorities are easily neglected. Companies competing on low cost are likely to miss opportunities to serve the customer better, whereas companies competing on high customer service run the risk of ever-increasing costs. Therefore, organizations may benefit from having an integrative strategy (Follett, Metcalf, & Urwick, 1941), which means that companies compete based on low cost and high customer service simultaneously (Pino & Van't Eind, 1990; Porter, 1980, 1985). The concept of `mass customization' (Gilmore & Pine, 1997), in which companies attempt to provide unique value to customers at a relatively low cost, fits well into an integrative strategy.

An integrative strategy implies that low cost and high customer service are equally important. The organization constantly assesses how to adapt to customer demands while achieving low cost, high quality and high delivery performance simultaneously. In this situation, departments are likely to be equally powerful and highly interdependent, for they have to make decisions in which their respective goals are integrated. Hence, employees must look further than the boundaries of their department to consider the consequences of their decisions for the goals of other departments (cf. Parker, Wall, & Jackson, 1999). This requires flexible and well-integrated organizational processes and structures, in which perceived goal differences between departments are minimized. The following hypothesis is therefore formulated:

Hypothesis 3: The more the organizational strategy is characterized by a combination of high customer service and low cost, the smaller the differences between departments in perceptions of their own goals and those of other departments.

Consequences of perceived goal differences

As mentioned earlier, effective coordination of the different departments' goals is crucial for organizational performance. However, many problems may arise that hinder coordination. Many of these coordination problems can be viewed as conflicts or dilemmas, in which one target, such as flexibility, is met at the expense of another target, such as efficiency (cf. John, 1991; Shapiro, 1977). To achieve effective coordination, therefore, it is important for organizations to manage conflicts between the goals of different departments. Although conflict issues are not in themselves detrimental to organizational effectiveness (De Dreu & Van de Vliert, 1997), it is important to manage them effectively to ensure positive outcomes for the organization as a whole. Hence, to some extent, the frequency and seriousness of conflicts in the manufacturing-planning and planning-marketing interfaces must be managed in order to keep their intensity at an optimal level (De Dreu, 1997).

Intergroup conflicts are well-known consequences of perceived goal differences as described above. For example, marketing employees who believe strongly that while they are aiming at customer service, their colleagues from planning are not, will approach their planning colleagues with suspicion and will interpret many of their actions and decisions as evidence that they do not care about serving the customer. The relationship between perceived goal differences and conflict is even more complex, because it is reciprocal and becomes easily entrapped in a downward spiral, in which perceiving goal differences increases conflict, which furthers the perception of goal differences, and so on (Rubin et al., 1994). For example, the marketing employee who argues with a planning colleague who refuses a customer order perceives this refusal as further evidence that the planning employee does not care for the customer, which increases perceived goal differences with planning and therefore the consequential likelihood of conflicts.

In this study, we examine to what extent there is a relationship between perceived goal differences and conflict (frequency and seriousness) within organizations. Our study contributes to existing knowledge because we examine perceived goal differences and their consequences in relation to actual department goals. The following hypothesis is formulated:

Hypothesis 4: The more perceived goal differences between departments, the more frequent (Hypothesis 4a) and serious (Hypothesis 4b) the conflicts between departments.

Method

Sample

Eleven Dutch manufacturing plants in the semi-process industry participated in the study. The plants had a minimum of 70 and a maximum of 1000 employees (M = 286; SD = 299). Only one of the 11 plants was an autonomous organization. The remaining 10 plants were semi-autonomous parts of 10 different (multinational) corporations. All plants had manufacturing, planning and marketing departments at the same physical location.

Overall, 41 managers and 120 low-level employees were interviewed. All managers were male. Their average age was 48 and 95% of them had a college degree. They had worked at the plant for 12 years on average and in the current position for 6 years on average. Of the low-level employees, 73% were male. Their average age was 38 years and 25% had a college degree. They had worked in the current plant for 15 years on average, and in the current position for 7 years on average. Of the 120 low-level employees, 35 (29%) worked in the manufacturing department, 41 (34%) in the planning department, and 44 (37%) in the marketing department.

Procedure

Organizations were recruited via the network of (colleagues of) the first author, using phone calls, informational flyers about the research subject and oral presentations to promote the research. During initial conversations with one or more contact persons (usually the planning manager and/or the marketing manager) of a participating organization, agreements were made about which employees would be interviewed. Within each organization, the management level employees to be interviewed consisted of the manufacturing manager, the planning manager (if this position existed), the marketing manager and the general director. The low-level employees consisted of all employees working at the lowest hierarchical level in the areas of manufacturing, planning, and marketing. The first author interviewed all 41 managers, using structured interview schemes. Two interviewers, including the first author, interviewed all 85 low-level employees. The managers answered questions about organizational strategy. The low-level employees were questioned about their own goals and the goals of their neighbouring department, as well as about the frequency and the seriousness of their conflicts of interests with the other department. At first, we planned to collect data in all possible interfaces (i.e. manufacturing-planning, planning-marketing, and manufacturing-marketing). However, it appeared that most manufacturing employees did not directly deal with marketing employees, and vice versa. Instead, all task-oriented communication between manufacturing and marketing went via planning. Therefore, the manufacturing-marketing interface was not considered any further.

Measurements

Own and others' goals. In the literature on operations management, which deals with the daily business of how to control manufacturing processes, there is general consensus that there are six major goals that all manufacturing organizations strive for (e.g. Slack et al., 1998). These are efficiency, quality, delivery speed, delivery reliability, flexibility, and customer service. With regard to these six goals, we measured the extent to which employees found themselves as well as their colleagues from other departments to be aiming for each goal. The six goals were explained to the participants as follows: efficiency was defined as minimizing costs; quality as making good products; delivery time as delivering fast; delivery reliability as delivering on time; flexibility as delivering a variety of products, quantities, and delivery times; and finally, customer service was defined as offering services to the customer such as product information. To measure their own goals, they were asked the following question: `For each of the goals, can you indicate the degree to which you are actually aiming for it? This may be, for example, because the goal is part of your job, because you are rewarded for achieving it, or because you believe the goal to be important for another reason.' Answers on every goal ranged from 1 (`I am certainly not aiming for it') to 5 (`I am certainly aiming for it'). To measure their perceptions of others' goals, they were asked the following: `For every goal, can you indicate the degree to which manufacturing (or planning, or marketing) employees are actually aiming for it? We are not interested in goals that they should aim for, but in goals that you watch them striving for in reality.' Answers on every goal ranged from 1 (`They are certainly not aiming for it') to 5 (`They are certainly aiming for it').

The goals of delivery time and delivery reliability were averaged into one goal and labelled as delivery performance because of the high correlations on both self-measurements (r = .68; N = 120; p [is less than] .001) and other-measurements in the manufacturing-planning interface as well as in the planning-marketing interface (r = .83; N = 71; p [is less than] .001 and r = .59; N= 83; p [is less than] .001 respectively). Hence, five goals remained; efficiency, quality, delivery performance, flexibility, and customer service. Finally, indices for perceived goal differences were created by subtracting the five others' goals from the five self-reported goals.

Organizational strategy. First it was explained to the 41 managers of the 11 companies that there are six performance dimensions (comparable to the goals described above) that customers find more or less important: price, quality, delivery time, delivery reliability, flexibility, and customer service. The definitions of these dimensions (see above) were also given. We used managers' perceptions of how important their customers found the various performance dimensions as an indicator of organizational strategy: e.g. an organization in which the managers believed that price was very important to the customers was believed to focus on low cost. Thus, managers were asked to rate the degree to which they believed their customers found the performance dimensions important. Answers ranged from 1, very unimportant, to 5, very important. Factor analysis of the six performance dimensions revealed two factors with eigenvalues above 1.0, which together explained 66% of the variance. Four performance dimensions loaded high ([is greater than] |.70|) on factor one and low ([is less than] |.40|) on factor two: quality, delivery time, delivery reliability, and customer service (see Appendix 1 for the precise factor loadings). These dimensions were averaged into one measure labelled `high customer service strategy' (Cronbach's [Alpha] = .82; N = 40). Only one performance dimension, price, loaded low on factor one and high on factor two. This item was labelled `low cost strategy'. The two strategy measures were relatively independent (r = .13; N = 40, n.s.). Within each organization, the standard deviations of both strategy measures were low enough to justify aggregation of the answers of managers to the organizational level (low cost strategy: SD [is less than] .85 for 10 of the 12 organizations; one organization had SD = 1.04, another organization had SD = 1.56; customer service strategy: SD [is less than] .95 for all organizations). The cross-product of the two centred strategy measures was used as a measure of integrative strategy, i.e. combining a low cost strategy with a high customer service strategy.



Frequency and seriousness of conflicts. To measure the frequency and seriousness of conflicts of interests between the respondents' own and other departments, employees were first asked to describe an example of opposing interests between themselves and an employee of the other department, about which they had spoken with each other. It was stressed that the example should represent how things were generally going between themselves and employees of the other department. Employees gave examples such as the following: `Marketing does not grasp how much work they saddle us with when they come up with a rush order', `Efficiency is very important for planning and this conflicts with rush orders', `Marketing sometimes promises things to customers that are not feasible', `Planning wants to schedule large batch sizes, whereas marketing prefers small ones', `Sometimes marketing does not take costs into account; they order new packaging while the old ones are far from out of stock', `Marketing forces us to use inefficient set-ups of the machines', and `Marketing often gives orders which, in terms of their format, run inefficiently on the machines'. Subsequently, the following question was asked to measure conflict frequency: `How often do these kind of conversations occur?' Answers ranged from 1, almost never, to 5, several times a day. To measure conflict seriousness, employees were asked: `How serious do you find it that these types of opposing interests exist between you and the manufacturing (planning, marketing) employees, in the sense that you feel obstructed by them?' Answers ranged from 1, certainly not serious, to 5, certainly serious.

Results

Perceived goal differences

We performed two multivariate analyses of variance, one for the manufacturing-planning interface and one for the planning-marketing interface. In the manufacturing-planning interface (see Fig. 1), the factorial design was 2 x 5 x 2 (Department: Manufacturing vs. Planning x Goal: Efficiency, Quality, Delivery, Flexibility, Customer Service x Target of Judgment: Self vs. Average member of the other department). The type of department varied among participants, and goal as well as target of judgment varied within participants. The dependent variable was the degree to which one actually aimed at the goal: 1 (`I am/the others are certainly not aiming at this goal') to 5 (`I am/the others are certainly aiming at this goal'). The same factorial design was used in the planning-marketing interface, except that the factor department now consisted of planning versus marketing.


Manufacturing-planning interface. The multivariate analysis of variance revealed a main effect of `goal' (F(4,62) = 10.03; p [is less than] .001), showing that goals differed in importance. Averaged across department and target of judgment, it appeared that, in the manufacturing-planning interface, delivery (M = 4.26) and efficiency (M = 4.24) were found most important, followed by quality (M = 4.11), flexibility (M = 3.81) and customer service (M = 3.51). There was also a general effect regarding the target of judgment (F(1,65) = 42.56; p [is less than] .001), showing that ratings for employees themselves were, on average, higher than those for members of the other department (M = 4.29 vs. M = 3.68). This last finding supports Hypothesis 1, that employees believe that they are striving harder to achieve goals that are valuable to the organization than the members of the other department. The main effect of goal was qualified by the interaction of Goal x Department (F(4,62) = 4.31; p [is less than] .005), showing that different goals are aimed at in different departments. Manufacturing employees aim most strongly at efficiency and quality, whereas planning employees aim most strongly at delivery performance. Finally, the three-way interaction of Goal x Target of Judgment x Department was significant (F(4,62) = 23.59; p [is less than] .001). As can be seen in Fig. 1, manufacturing employees believe most strongly that they are striving harder for goal achievement than the other department when efficiency and quality are concerned, whereas planning employees believe most strongly that they are striving harder than the other department when delivery performance and customer service are concerned. This partly supports Hypothesis 2, in which it was expected that perceived goal differences are largest in favour of oneself when one's own department goals are concerned. Hypothesis 2 was supported among manufacturing employees. However, among planning employees, the perceived goal difference was not only very large when their own department goal, delivery performance, was concerned, but also when one of the two marketing goals, customer service, was concerned.

Planning-marketing interface. At the planning-marketing interface (see Fig. 2), there was a main effect of goal (F(4,75) = 13.29; p [is less than] .001). Averaged across department and target of judgment, it appeared that delivery performance was found most important (M = 4.48), followed by customer service (M = 4.21), quality (M = 4.07), flexibility (M = 4.06), and finally efficiency (M = 3.76). There was also a main effect of the target of judgment (F(1,78) = 48.94; p [is less than] .001), showing that ratings for oneself were, on average, higher than those for members of the other department (M = 4.41 vs. M = 3.82). Again, Hypothesis 1, in which it was expected that employees overstate their own goal pursuit by believing that they are striving harder to achieve goals than the members of the other department do, received support. The main effect of goal was qualified by the interaction of Goal x Department (F(4,75) = 3.14; p [is less than] .05), which means that different goals are aimed for in different departments. Planning employees aim most strongly for delivery performance, whereas marketing employees aim most strongly for both customer service and delivery performance. There was also an interaction effect of Goal x Target of Judgment (F(4,75 = 3.57; p [is less than] .05), showing that perceived goal differences are somewhat stronger for some goals than for others.


Finally, the three-way interaction of Goal x Target of Judgment x Department was significant (F(4,75) = 13.05; p [is less than] .001). As can be seen in Fig. 2, planning employees believe most strongly that they strive harder to achieve goals than the other department where efficiency and quality are concerned, whereas marketing employees most strongly believe that they strive harder than the other department where customer service and flexibility are concerned. This partly supports Hypothesis 2, in which it was expected that perceived goal differences are largest in favour of oneself when one's own department goals are concerned. Hypothesis 2 received support among marketing employees, but, again, not among planning employees. The latter perceived the largest goal difference where manufacturing goals, efficiency and quality, were concerned.





Causes of perceived goal differences

Indices were created for perceived goal differences by subtracting others' goals from self-reported goals. To test Hypothesis 3, that an integrative organizational strategy leads to smaller perceived differences between employees' own and other departments' goals, Spearman rank correlations were computed between low cost strategy, high customer service strategy, and integrative strategy on the one hand, and departmental averages of perceived goal differences on the other hand (N = 11 organizations; see Table 1).


Table 1. Spearman rank correlations of organizational strategies
and perceived goal differences (N = 11 organizations)

Interface

Manufacturing-Planning

Organizational strategy

Low cost High CS Both

Perceived goal difference
Efficiency .06 .66(*) -.35
Quality .22 .73(**) .12
Delivery -.04 .11 -.10
Flexibility -.54(*) .16 -.69(**)
Customer service -.61(*) -.39 -.16

Interface

Planning-Marketing

Organizational strategy

Low cost High CS Both

Perceived goal difference
Efficiency .12 -.37 .02
Quality .06 .11 .23
Delivery -.50([dagger]) .05 -.77(**)
Flexibility .09 -.02 -.22
Customer service -.05 .06 .34

([dagger]) p<.10; (*) p<.05; (**) p<.01 (one-tailed).

Key. CS=customer service; Both=both low cost and high customer
service strategy (=integrative strategy).
Manufacturing-planning interface. Within the manufacturing-planning interface, Hypothesis 3 was partly supported. An integrative strategy--that is, one that combines low cost and high customer service strategies--had a significant negative correlation with perceived goal differences in flexibility. Three of the four other correlations in relation to integrative strategy were also negative, although not significantly so. Moreover, in line with Hypothesis 3, it appeared that a high customer service strategy was positively related to perceived goal differences in efficiency and quality. Unexpectedly, it appeared that a low cost strategy was related negatively to perceived goal differences in flexibility and customer service within the manufacturing-planning interface.



Planning-marketing interface. Within the planning-marketing interface, Hypothesis 3 also received some support. The results reveal a significant negative correlation between integrative strategy and perceived goal differences in delivery performance. Two of the five correlations between integrative strategy and perceived goal differences were negative. Hypothesis 3 thus received a small amount of support at the planning-marketing interface. Furthermore, neither low cost nor high customer service strategy were correlated with perceived goal differences, with the exception of an unexpected significant negative correlation between low cost strategy and perceived goal differences in delivery performance.

Consequences of perceived goal differences

Hypothesis 4 concerns the relationship between perceived goal differences and conflict frequency (Hypothesis 4a) and the seriousness of the conflicts (Hypothesis 4b). These hypotheses were tested using multi-level analysis. Following a multi-level approach means that the analysis takes into account the hierarchical data structures (employees within organizations) by using a hierarchical linear model (Bryk & Raudenbush, 1992; Goldstein, 1995; Kreft & De Leeuw, 1998; Raudenbush & Bryk, 1986; Snijders & Bosker, 1999). The hierarchical linear model is a statistical model for hierarchically structured data that takes into account within-group variability as well as between-groups variability. It is similar to a regression model but in addition includes random effects to represent the unexplained differences between groups: in this case, organizations. Using ordinary least squares regression analysis would lead to unreliable results because employees within the same organization have common influences, so that the assumption of independent observations, required for ordinary regression analysis, would be violated (Bryk & Raudenbush, 1992).

In multi-level analysis, the variance in the dependent variable is divided into variance that can be accounted for by the organizational level--in this case the integrative strategy--and variance that can be accounted for by individual variables--in this case the perceived differences of the five goals. Fixed effects are entered into the model on the basis of theoretical considerations, as in multiple regression analysis. In addition, we estimated random effects at the level of the organization: we assumed that organizations differ randomly in their overall level on the dependent variable, and we allowed that organizations differ randomly in the regression coefficients of the variables on the level of the employees (random slopes). In this study, the presentation of results focuses on fixed effects. According to the hypotheses, most attention is paid to the fixed effects of the perceived goal differences on the individual level, while controlling for the integrative strategy of the organization at the level of the organization. Multivariate significance of effects was tested by computing the increase in model fit compared with the previous step. The increase in model fit (represented by the decrease in deviance) follows a chi-square distribution, with the number of added predictor variables as the degree of freedom (Goldstein, 1995). The fixed effects of single predictor variables are comparable with regression coefficients in ordinary regression analysis. These were tested by means of one-side z tests to the ratio `estimate/standard error'. The MLwiN program was used (Goldstein et al., 1998).

The dependent variables in these multi-level analyses were the frequency and seriousness of conflicts as reported by the employees, separately for the two interfaces. For each dependent variable, two analyses were conducted. In the first analysis (model 1) the perceived goal differences were included, and in the second analysis (model 2) the integrative strategy of the organization was added. As said before, attention is paid to the effects of the perceived goal differences, while controlling for the organizational strategy (that is, the second model). The results of the multi-level analyses are presented in Table 2.


Table 2. Results of a regression comparison with conflict frequency and
seriousness of the conflict as dependent variables (multi-level
analysis), at both the manufacturing-planning interface and the
planning-marketing interface

Interface

Manufacturing-Planning

Conflict

Frequency Seriousness

Model 1 2 1 2

Integrative strategy -.09(*) -.24
Perceived goal
difference
Efficiency .05 .06 .01 -.09
Quality .10 .14(*) -.01 -.08
Delivery .06 .21(*) -.23 -.07
Flexibility .06 .03 .33(*) .28(*)
Customer service -.15 -.06 -.05 .04
(Constant) 2.61(*) 4.55(*) 3.06(*) 3.50(*)

Deviance 165.8 160.9 197.1 193.1
Difference in deviance 5.5 4.0(*) 3.4 4.0(*)
Difference in d.f. 5 1 5 1

Interface

Planning-Marketing

Conflict

Frequency

Model 1 2

Integrative strategy -.08(*)
Perceived goal
difference
Efficiency .07 .11(*)
Quality .08 -.08
Delivery .24(*) .24(*)
Flexibility .08 .07(*)
Customer service .21(*) .18(*)
(Constant) 4.09(*) 3.63

Deviance 159.1 156.8
Difference in deviance 10.4([dagger]) 2.4
Difference in d.f. 5 1

Interface

Planning-Marketing

Conflict

Seriousness

Model 1 2

Integrative strategy -.40(*)
Perceived goal
difference
Efficiency .25(*) .12(*)
Quality -.04 -.02
Delivery .42(*) .41(*)
Flexibility -.07 .01
Customer service .12 .16(*)
(Constant) 3.07 5.52

Deviance 191.8 189.0
Difference in deviance 8.7 2.8([dagger])
Difference in d.f. 5 1

([dagger]) p<.10;

(*) p<.05.

Note. Non-standardized coefficients are reported. The difference in
deviance for Model 1 refers to the difference compared to the null
model, i.e. the model without any predictor variables.
For the manufacturing-planning interface, the results show that the integrative strategy of the organization contributed significantly to the explanation of the frequency and seriousness of conflicts (difference in deviance from the first model respectively 4.04(1), p [is less than] .05, and 3.95(1), p [is less than] .05). For the planning-marketing interface, the integrative strategy contributed significantly to the explanation of the seriousness of conflicts, but not significantly to the explanation of the frequency of conflicts (difference in deviance from the first model respectively 2.81(1), p [is less than] .10, and 2.37(1), n.s.). Furthermore, with the exception of the seriousness of conflicts in the manufacturing-planning interface, an integrative strategy within an organization had a significant negative effect on the frequency and seriousness of conflicts. Conflicts were less frequent and less serious in organizations that had a `low cost and high customer service' strategy.

Within the manufacturing-planning interface, controlling for the integrative strategy of an organization, perceived goal differences with regard to quality and delivery were significantly positively related to the frequency of conflicts: the higher the perceived differences in quality and delivery goals, the more conflicts employees reported. Regarding the seriousness of conflicts within this interface, only perceived goal differences with regard to flexibility had a significant positive relationship with the seriousness of conflicts.

Within the planning-marketing interface, controlling for the integrative strategy of an organization, perceived goal differences with regard to efficiency, delivery, flexibility and customer service were all significantly positively related to conflict frequency. Furthermore, perceived goal differences with regard to efficiency, delivery and customer service had significant positive relationships with the seriousness of conflicts.

On the basis of these results, it can be concluded that Hypothesis 4, that perceived goal differences are related to conflict frequency (Hypothesis 4a) and seriousness (Hypothesis 4b) was partially supported, and that this support was stronger within the planning-marketing interface than within the manufacturing-planning interface.

It is also relevant to consider the effects of individual characteristics of employees, such as age, education, sex and years of experience. For this reason, the relationships between perceived goal differences and the frequency and seriousness of conflicts were examined, controlling for characteristics of the employees. For the manufacturing-planning interface, including these variables in the multi-level models shown in Table 2 produced no significant improvement of the fit of the models (no table). In addition, we did not find any significant effects of the individual characteristics of the employees on the frequency and seriousness of the conflicts.

For the planning-marketing interface, however, the addition of the individual characteristics--age, education, sex and years of experience--improved the fit of the models significantly (for frequency: difference in deviance = 7.21 (4), p [is less than] .01; for seriousness: difference in deviance = 5.78(4), p [is less than] .01). A significant positive effect of education was found with regard to the frequency of conflicts (coefficient = .46, p [is less than] .01): controlling for perceived goal differences and the integrative strategy of the organization, the higher the education of an employee, the more conflicts the employee had. A significant negative effect of education was found with regard to the seriousness of the conflicts (coefficient = -.56, p [is less than] .01): controlling for perceived goal differences and the integrative strategy of the organization, the higher the education of an employee, the less serious the conflicts the employee had. Most important, however, is the question of whether by adding the individual characteristics to the models, the effects of the perceived goal differences on frequency and seriousness of the conflict changed. We found that this was not the case for any of the models. This means that our conclusion is upheld: Hypothesis 4a and Hypothesis 4b are partially supported, more so for the planning-marketing interface than for the manufacturing-planning interface.

Discussion

In this article, we examined perceived goal differences in the manufacturing-planning and the planning-marketing interfaces as well as their causes in terms of the overall organizational strategy and their consequences for coordination problems such as the frequency and seriousness of interdepartmental conflicts. The results of the current study showed, first, that employees indeed perceived interdepartmental goal differences. Secondly, some of these perceived goal differences appeared to be smaller the more an organization had an integrative strategy (low cost combined with high customer service). Thirdly, some of the perceived goal differences tended to increase the frequency and seriousness of interdepartmental conflicts.

Our finding that people in organizations tend to perceive goal differences between themselves and members of other interdependent departments can be interpreted in two different ways. On the one hand, the perceived goal differences may refer to actual goal differences, because different departments are actually rewarded for different goals. On the other hand, perceptions of goal differences may be biased, in that employees believe that they are aiming more strongly at goals that are valuable to the organization than are the members of the other department. The results of the current study demonstrate that perceived goal differences were indeed somewhat favourably biased. Employees believed that they pursued their `own' department's goals more strongly than employees of other departments did (which can be labelled as perceiving a `realistic, non-biased' goal difference), but employees also believed that other departments did not pursue `their' department goals more strongly than they themselves did (which can be labelled as perceiving a biased goal difference). These results support social identity theory (e.g. Brewer, 1986; Hogg 8: Terry, 2000), in that department members strive for a positive social identity by believing that they are striving for goals that are valuable to the organization, whereas they believe that members of other departments strive less than they do for goals that are valuable to the organization.

The perceived goal differences demonstrated in the current study were less strong than expected. Possible reasons for this are that organizational goals were not clearly communicated by the managers down to the level of the employees, or that employees at the bottom of the hierarchy did not identify with the manager of their department. Another possible explanation is that group boundaries are not equal to the boundaries of departments, which implies that members of other departments may not always be seen as out-group members. As Hogg and Terry (2000) propose, it is not immediately clear what kind of group boundaries and group identity are most salient to organization members--those of the department, of their demographic characteristics, of the organization as a whole, or something else. Future research, therefore, may benefit from measuring employees' perceptions of group boundaries, as social identity theory proposes that the more employees perceive boundaries between their own department and other departments, the more likely they will have biased in-group and out-group perceptions.

Our hypothesis that perceived goal differences are largest where one's own department goals are concerned was supported among manufacturing and marketing employees, but not among planning employees. As expected, manufacturing employees perceived the largest goal differences with planning when efficiency and quality were concerned; marketing employees perceived the largest goal differences with planning when flexibility and customer service were concerned. Contrary to our expectation, however, planning employees perceived the largest goal differences with manufacturing not only where their own goal, delivery performance, was concerned, but also where customer service was concerned. Planning employees perceived the largest goal differences with marketing where efficiency and quality were concerned. These results suggest that planning, being in between the other two departments, feels closer to marketing when comparing itself to manufacturing, but closer to manufacturing when comparing itself to marketing. The `boundaries' of the social identity of planning employees thus seems to change depending on which comparison is salient (cf. Hogg & Terry, 2000).

A limitation of this study was that we did not measure employees' perceptions of the importance of all six goals with regard to their contribution to overall organizational performance. It is plausible that manufacturing employees believe that efficiency and quality are most valuable for organizational performance, whereas planning employees believe that delivery performance is most valuable and marketing employees believe that flexibility and customer service are most valuable. Brown et al. (1986) indeed showed that employees of different departments within an organization all believed that their own department contributed the most to the overall functioning of the organization. By examining assessments of goal importance made by employees of different departments, more insight will be reached, not only in the kinds of biased perceptions employees have, but also in explaining the occurrence of interdepartmental conflicts.

The hypothesis that an integrative organizational strategy, which combines low cost and high customer service, reduces perceived goal differences between departments received weak support. This may be due to methodological problems, such as the small sample of organizations in our study. However, some significant negative relationships between integrative strategy measured at the management level and perceived goal differences measured at the operational level could be demonstrated, and these results could not be attributed to common method variance since measurements of strategy and perceived goal differences stemmed from two distinct sources. Our results thus suggest that organizational strategy may indeed serve as an important determinant of perceived goal differences. It would be interesting, therefore, to examine whether our findings can be replicated in future research using larger samples of organizations.

However, even at this early stage our results raise an interesting issue that questions work in the field of strategy management (cf. Porter, 1980, 1985). Authors in this field generally stress the importance of having a clear organizational strategy and clear priorities, often formulated in slogans such as `let's serve our customers better'. This study reveals the dark side of such presumed goal clarity: it seems to increase perceived goal differences between departments and, as a result, conflicts of interest, because a clear strategy often means that one goal, e.g. low cost, is given priority above other goals, e.g. customer service. Giving low cost priority above customer service means that the interests of back-office departments that strive for low cost are generally considered more important than the interests of front-office departments that strive for high customer service. Conversely, when customer service has priority above low cost, the interests of the front-office departments will be considered more important than those of the back office. Only when low cost is given equal weight with high customer service will the back and front offices have equal power and be able to trade off and solve problems constantly on the best possible integration of low cost and customer service. Therefore, structural conflicts of interests and interdepartmental differentiation will be smallest in organizations with an integrative strategy. Indeed, a study by Brown et al. (1986) has shown that intergroup differentiation is larger the more there are structural conflicts of interests.

Our hypothesis that perceived goal differences are related to the frequency and seriousness of interdepartmental conflicts was partly supported. We were able to replicate findings from social-psychological experimental studies on intergroup conflict in the field of interdepartmental coordination within organizations. Moreover, our study reveals that some perceived goal differences have larger effects on coordination problems than others do. Specifically, it appeared that perceived goal differences on marketing goals, such as delivery performance, flexibility and customer service, are related more strongly to interdepartmental conflict frequency and seriousness than perceived goal differences on manufacturing goals, such as efficiency and quality. An explanation for this finding is that marketing goals are often more complex and ambiguous than manufacturing goals. Efficiency and quality targets are usually easy to quantify and measure, whereas delivery, flexibility and customer service targets can be interpreted in a number of ways. As a result, efficiency and quality are less likely to be sources of conflict than customer service and flexibility because members of different departments may have equal definitions of what high efficiency and high quality mean, whereas their definitions of high flexibility and high customer service may differ much more. For example, a planning employee may define high customer service as delivering products as fast as possible, whereas a customer service employee may define high customer service as giving extra services and handling complaints satisfactorily. Therefore, marketing goals might be more likely sources of conflicts than manufacturing goals.

In sum, our study reveals that perceived goal differences between organizational departments deserve the continuous attention of both researchers and practitioners, for they appear to be an important impediment to the functioning of organizations as single integrated wholes. Therefore, practitioners have to work hard to influence perceived goal differences, e.g. by means of management by objectives (John, 1991; Lawrence & Lorsch, 1967), job rotation (Herzberg, 1968), training and education in taking the perspective of other departments (Galinsky, 1999), and other means to increasing mutual understanding and decreasing intergroup differentiation. Finally, our results suggest how perceived goal differences can be diminished in a structural, conditional sense: at the plant level, attention should be paid to the integration of goals in the formulation of organizational strategy.

Acknowledgements

The authors would like to thank Migiel de Lange for his valuable contributions to the research project, and Brain P. Buunk and Carsten K. W. de Dreu for their valuable comments on earlier versions of this article.

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Re: WORST CASE SOME ONE!!!

Critical reflexive practice in teaching management communication.(INNOVATIVE PRACTICES


CRITICAL THEORY has been a distinguishing feature of the research program at the Waikato Management School, but significant reflection is required to translate the theory into meaningful classroom experiences. The need for reflection comes from two key tensions in teaching management communication: One is the tension between teaching practical, career-focused skills versus critical and/or interpretive analysis; the second is the multicultural classroom environment where students, educated in a monocultural context, are exposed to other interpretations and critiques of their own cultural predispositions and values.

In addition, there is no clearly defined notion of a management communication student in a graduate or MBA program. The how and what of graduate management communication programs are constantly in question as we prepare these graduates for an increasingly complex, ambiguous, and multicultural workplace (Mintzberg, 2004). Therefore, reflecting critically on our practices as educators is essential (Cunliffe, 2004; Grey, 2004). This article briefly describes the context of teaching management communication at the Waikato Management School and the key tensions experienced in that context. We then explain the concept of critical reflexive practice and its implications for teaching. Finally, we illustrate the framework through several critical incidents in the classroom.

SETTING THE CONTEXT

The context for this study is the Department of Management Communication within the business school of the University of Waikato in New Zealand. The department is a research center, not primarily a service department; it fosters creative, critical, interpretive, and practice-relevant scholarship and interdisciplinarity (e.g., Cockburn-Wootten, Henderson, & Rix, 2005; Holmes, 2004; Motion & Weaver, 2005; Munshi & McKie, 2001; Roper, in press; Zorn, 2002).

The department offers undergraduate and graduate programs in management communication and public relations. Students may undertake research courses at the master's level for the Master of Management Studies (MMS) degree and a doctorate by thesis. The department's expertise is also applied within the international and executive MBA degree programs, both of which integrate theory and practice. MBA courses, however, are more vocationally oriented, whereas the MMS degree program is more academically oriented, providing students with a theoretical and critical grounding for doctoral research, as well as the critical problem-solving knowledge to be effective communication specialists in the work place.

In addition, the department is characterized by cultural diversity. The 13 faculty represent 8 different nationalities and have diverse research approaches and interests. The graduate student body is both bicultural (consisting of New Zealand Maori and non-Maori) and multicultural, including many international students, predominantly from East and Southeast Asia. In New Zealand, "biculturalism" acknowledges the equal partnership between Maori--the indigenous people--and non-Maori. According to the Treaty of Waitangi (1840), the founding document for the governance of New Zealand people, education of Maori and non-Maori (including international students) must take place in a framework of participation, protection, and partnership.

The faculty's critical and interpretive research orientations can sometimes be seen to clash with student expectations for a traditional "functionalist" business education. In addition, the pedagogies and practices of faculty are required to acknowledge and cope with both student and faculty diversity. Herein lie two key tensions experienced in teaching management communication in this context. In the next section, we explain an approach for managing these tensions.

THE CRITICAL REFLEXIVE FRAMEWORK

Our goal as educators is to empower students to participate effectively in both the organizations and communities in which they reside. To achieve this goal while managing the tensions identified above, we embrace a framework of critical reflexive practice (e.g., Cunliffe, 2004). We mean critical to suggest both the sense of questioning, as in "critical thinking," as well as in the sense of critical theory--unmasking hidden tensions and meanings with a goal of emancipating thinking and action (e.g., Alvesson & Deetz, 2000). By reflexive, we mean an awareness of and questioning of one's own assumptions and constructions of reality.

This framework embodies three underlying principles. The first is that knowledge is both socially constructed and competing. As teachers, we want students to "question assumptions and taken-for-granted actions, think about where/who [they] are and would like to be, challenge conceptions of reality, and explore new possibilities" (Cunliffe, 2004, p. 411).

The second principle is praxis. Jun (1994) defined praxis as the need for self-conscious and ethical actions where individuals question their past behavior as well as future possibilities. Students need to draw on their lived experiences and values while attending to interpersonal relations, communication, conflicts, feelings, and politics. In management communication education, praxis encourages students to reframe past behavior and, by linking to theory, to open up new possibilities for management practice. Thus, we are teaching students a process of reflection and analysis for future action.

The third underlying principle is a critique of values and culture, especially those of the dominant culture. Students analyze and discuss the broader social, cultural, and political issues and critically deconstruct them in light of management communication theory and practice.

The critical reflexive framework requires a teaching methodology that employs tools such as dialogue, decentering, and experiential learning. Dialogue is an exchange of ideas among teachers and students--a moment where we become "struck" by an idea, so that we are then moved to change our ways of talking and acting (Cunliffe, 2004). Dialogue and critical thinking requires students to think more humanistically about the impact of their actions as they are learning (Freire, 1972; Pezone & Singer, 1997). In management education, dialogue is a central way of connecting the individual with the whole organization (Senge, 1992). In classroom practice, dialogue is promoted by positive student/teacher relationships and classroom activities that promote learning opportunities (Brookfield & Preskill, 1999; Giroux, 1987).

The second tool, decentering, aims to provide opportunities for students to recognize conflicting perspectives on a topic, and that the truth is something that is socially constructed (Bean, 2001). Through role play and readings that expose different voices, and by challenging insights through dialogue, students are required to adopt a standpoint on a topic that is different from, and sometimes contradictory to, their own beliefs.

Finally, experiential learning can create opportunities in which students experience conflicting values and perspectives, are forced to make and question choices, and then reflect on the assumptions and constructions that led to their choices. Such tools enable students to realize that there are no "right" answers to problems.

These principles and tools all lead to critical reflexive practice. As critical/interpretive scholars, we encourage students to question existing power structures, knowledge, and conditions in the wider society (Pennycook, 2001). To achieve this goal, Banks (1991) argued that "we must engage students in a process of attaining knowledge in which they are required to critically analyze conflicting paradigms and explanations and the value assumptions of different knowledge systems, forms, and categories" (p. 126). Furthermore, Grey (2004) reinforced this style of critical engagement in his call for critical management education. He emphasized the importance of drawing on student (lived) experiences and values while attending to interpersonal relations, communication, conflicts, feelings, and politics. This approach aims to develop managers who demonstrate moral and political responsibility.

The critical reflexive framework not only challenges students but also challenges us as educators to evaluate how we teach management communication. It is also useful for managing the tensions we see as central to our teaching of management communication in the MBA and MMS.

APPLYING THE FRAMEWORK

In the following sections, we present three critical incidents and discuss how the tensions are reflected in these critical incidents. We then describe how the teacher's response to the incident reflects the principles in the framework of critical reflexive practice and what further possibilities the framework presents.

Critical Incident 1: Using Dialogue

In an executive MBA class where students were examining corporate identity, a student challenged the notion that an organization, when developing an identity strategy, should aim for consistency in messages--a notion that is prominent in the corporate identity literature (e.g., Olins, 1989). He argued that his organization did not have consistency of message and yet the stakeholders were all satisfied with the messages they were receiving. Rather than defend the consistency view, the teacher encouraged the questioning. In the ensuing discussion among students and teachers, the consistency approach was further challenged.

After that session, the CEO of the student's employing organization was contacted and a research project established to understand exactly the meaning in the messages that the organization was sending out to its stakeholders. The researchers found that the strategy was based on consistency but that consistency occurred at the level of brand values and not in content communicated or presentation of message (Leitch & Motion, 1999). This was an important finding for the study of corporate identity.

This critical incident demonstrates the critical-practical tension where students and teachers challenged understandings of corporate identity through dialogue. Students, by drawing upon their lived experiences, challenged established understandings of corporate identity as well as the theoretical perspectives the teachers had put forward. In being "struck" by an idea, students and teachers were able to reframe their understandings. By engaging in critical reflection and analysis, they could develop further possibilities for how they thought about management theories and practices.

The incident led to further reflections and possibilities, including an action learning approach. In addition, the dialogue enabled students to engage in cultural critique of the theory and readings from the perspective of their own Asian-Pacific business practices. Students viewed the critiques as salient because they had evolved from their own lived experiences.

Faculty later used the incident as a teaching example of how dialogue can contribute to scholarship. Readings from faculty publications were then used in the MMS and provided students, who had minimal work experience, with examples of theory and cases that applied to the contemporary multicultural business world.

Critical Incident 2: Using Praxis

The second critical incident arose when MMS students in a public relations course felt frustrated with materials that seemed too theoretical and devoid of practical value to their future careers. Furthermore, a focus on critical reflection had led students to question contemporary practices to such an extent that some no longer wished to work in the field of communication, especially in public relations. When students were asked to analyze and apply critical discourse theory, they questioned whether any practitioner used the theory and how practitioners reconciled a critical understanding of public relations with the practical requirements of the role.

The incident reflects the critical-practical tension. Students expected to learn practical, career-focused skills, whereas the teacher's goals were to bring a critical and/or interpretive analysis, through the application of theory, to practice. To resolve this tension, the teacher invited a number of practitioners to participate in a panel discussion with the class. The teacher and students were thus able to explore the implications of critical theory for practice. The practitioners, alumni of the department, first talked about how they used such theory in their campaign work; then reflected on some challenges they had encountered; and finally explained how an understanding of critical discourse analysis, for example, had helped them understand and resolve the challenges.

The incident illustrated the value of praxis as students were able to critically reflect on alternatives to practice and, as a result, see new directions for public relations practice. The teacher could bridge the gap between students' desires for materials that are vocationally oriented and teachers' commitments to critical pedagogies (Pennycook, 2001). Above all, the outcomes from the incident reinvigorated students' interests in working in the industry.

The incident presents further possibilities for teaching and learning. Bringing in practitioners enables the teacher to adopt experiential learning by asking students to apply critical discourse analysis to real campaigns. A further activity, where students engage in decentering, may require students, through role play, to take on the role of a public relations manager or a stakeholder role such as a community member or activist. Enacting a different role enables students to see conflicting perspectives and thus promotes a more complex understanding.

Critical Incident 3: Negotiating Diversity

In the third incident, two New Zealand Maori students related the experiences of their parents who were not allowed to speak Maori in school. Then a Korean student stated that her own mother had experienced exactly the same form of cultural suppression from the Chinese. The revelation of similarities came as a surprise to all the students, but in particular to the Chinese students, who had a different understanding and experience of their history and who felt uncomfortable at what could have been a criticism of them. The Maori students, who had long believed that their culture was alone in their historical treatment by a colonizing power, were fascinated to learn otherwise.

Although this dialogue was initially unsettling for some students, the teacher addressed the issues from a more general and theoretical perspective, rather than allowing any form of specific criticism. Historically, language suppression has been a widely used tool for invading or colonizing people and cultures. People in Wales, for example, describe similar experiences (Jones, 2004). Instead of avoiding the discomfort that existed in the classroom, the teacher used dialogue to expose the students' perspectives of international politics and public relations. That dialogue led to greater understanding of the vital role of language as a source of power in cultural expression and/or suppression. Through this engagement the students were able to understand how experiences, beliefs, values, and identities can be socially constructed and that "they play a role in constituting their [the students'] everyday organizational realities" (Cunliffe, 2004, p. 411).

The incident illustrates the monocultural-multicultural tension as students began to critique their own cultural assumptions and values as well as those from other cultures. This tension raises three challenges for teachers engaging in critical reflexive practice. The first focuses on the teaching and learning climate. Giroux (1997) claimed that students need the classroom to be a safe place where they can "cross ideological and political borders to clarify their own moral visions ... and move beyond cultural borders in order to approach other cultural patterns, interpret them critically and eventually challenge their own common-sensical assumptions" (p. 262). Part of negotiating these borders is creating a climate of trust through positive teacher-student relationships where students and teachers can engage in praxis. The teacher in the critical incident eventually achieved this state.

Second, students must manage face, particularly international students from East and Southeast Asia, where communication is predicated on face-preserving strategies (Gao & Ting-Toomey, 1998). The Chinese students experienced discomfort because they perceived the attack on their culture as an attack on their personal identity (as members of that culture). Such an attack resulted in a loss of face for them.

The third challenge is managing the dominance of one cultural group over others. Where students feel they have greater cultural license to speak, they may be silencing others. This cultural license may be validated by an overreliance on British and North American readings. It may also be validated by the privileging of one teaching and learning style over another. Many of the students, particularly those from East and Southeast Asia, come from traditional learning backgrounds where the teacher holds the power and knowledge. This monologic approach protects the status quo and promotes competition among students. By contrast, a dialogic approach encourages dialogue and communication. Learning is student centered and collaborative, and knowledge is created/coconstructed though reflection and critical thinking (Freire, 1972; Hammond & Gao, 2002). For the Chinese students, critiquing knowledge through reflection and critical thinking was neither a familiar nor an accepted practice, unlike the Maori students who, more recently, have been encouraged to critique colonial practices. The dialogue also enabled the students to see how knowledge had been socially constructed according to the history of the respective cultures.

CONCLUSION

All three critical incidents illustrate the value of critical reflexive practice as a framework for teaching management communication. Embedded within the framework is the need to question knowledge, to engage in praxis, and to critique our understanding of culture and values within the classroom. Through the tools of dialogue, decentering, and experiential learning, teachers and students can "examine critically the assumptions underlying [their] actions, the impact of those actions, and from a broader perspective, what passes as good management practice" (Cunliffe, 2004, p. 407).

As Guilherme (2002) argued, in practice, it is not a question of depriving teachers and students of truth, certainty, accuracy, and completeness but of offering ideals and principles, showing directions and possibilities, and providing ways and methods for empowerment. Critical reflexive practice enables us to focus on communication rather than persuasion, on empowerment rather than assertion. In addition, this framework helps us to develop managers/practitioners who demonstrate moral, social, political, and cultural responsibility. It can help us infuse students with "civil aspirations"--to have higher expectations of the world and their role in it, "to courageously navigate the moral potholes," and to recognize the world's resources are finite (Giacalone, 2004, p. 419). They need to be able to participate effectively in a society that is increasingly messier and more complex (Grey, 2004).

Teachers and students need to engage in dialogue to allow the emergence of different perspectives, admit when we are unsure of the answers, and critique all types of knowledge and values. Through critical reflexive practice, we can prepare students to be effective communicators in a business environment that is increasingly challenging and changing.

REFERENCES

Alvesson, M., & Deetz, S. (2000). Doing critical management research. London: Sage.

Banks, J. A. (1991). A curriculum for empowerment, action, and change. In C. E. Sleeter (Ed.), Empowerment through multicultural education (pp. 125-141). Albany: State University of New York Press.

Bean, J. C. (2001). Engaging ideas: The professor's guide to integrating writing, critical thinking, and active learning in the classroom. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.

Brookfield, S. D., & Preskill, S. (1999). Discussion as a way of teaching: Tools and techniques for democratic classrooms. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.

Cockburn-Wootten, C., Henderson, A., & Rix, C. (2005). Learning from the apprentice: An account of action learning in a university department. Action Learning: Research and Practice, 2(1), 71-78.

Cunliffe, A. (2004). On becoming a critically reflexive practitioner. Journal of Management Education, 28(4), 407-426.

Freire, P. (1972). Pedagogy of the oppressed. Hammondsworth, UK: Penguin.

Gao, G., & Ting-Toomey, S. (1998). Communicating effectively with the Chinese. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Giacalone, R.A. (2004). A transcendent business education for the 21st century. Academcy of Management Learning and Education, 3(4), 415-420.

Giroux, H. A. (1997). Pedagogy and the politics of hope: Theory, culture, and schooling. Boulder, CO: Westview.

Grey, C. (2004). Reinventing business schools: The contribution of critical management education. Academy of Management Learning and Education, 3(2), 178-186.

Guilherme, M. (2002). Critical citizens for an intercultural world: Foreign language education as cultural politics. Cleveland, UK: Multilingual Matters.

Hammond, S., & Gao, H. (2002). Pan Gu's paradigm: Chinese education's return to holistic communication in learning. In X. Lu, W. Jia, & D. Ray Heisey (Eds.), Chinese communication studies: Contexts and comparisons (pp. 227-244). Westport, CT: Ablex.

Holmes, P. (2004). Negotiating differences in learning and intercultural communication: Ethnic Chinese students in a New Zealand university. Business Communication Quarterly, 67(3), 294-307.

Jones, G. (2004). History and status of the Welsh language. Retrieved February 25, 2005, from http://users.comlab.ox.ac.uk/geraint.jones/about.welsh/

Jun, J. S. (1994). Philosophy of administration. Seoul, Korea: Daeyoung Moonhwa International.

Leitch, S., & Motion, J. (1999). Multiplicity in corporate identity strategy. Corporate Communications: An International Journal, 4(4), 193-199.

Mintzberg, H. (2004). Managers not MBAs: A hard look at the soft practice of managing and management development. San Francisco: Berrett Koehler.

Motion, J., & Weaver, C. K. (2005). A discourse perspective for critical public relations research: Life sciences network and the battle for "truth." Journal of Public Relations Research, 17(1), 49-67.

Munshi, D. & McKie, D. (2001). Towards a new cartography of intercultural communication: Mapping ideas, business and diversity. Business Communication Quarterly, 64(3), 9-22.

Olins, W. (1989). Corporate identity: Making business strategy visible through design. London: Thames & Hudson.

Pennycook, A. (2001). Critical applied linguistics: A critical introduction. Mahwab, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.

Pezone, M., & Singer, A. (1997). Empowering immigrant students through democratic dialogues. Social Education, February. Retrieved October 14, 1999, from http://web4 .searchbank.com

Roper, J. (in press). Symmetrical communication: Excellent public relations or a strategy for hegemony? Journal of Public Relations Research.

Senge, P. (1992). The fifth discipline field book: Strategies and tools for building a learning organization. New York: Doubleday.

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Address correspondence to Prue Holmes, Department of Management Communication, University of Waikato, Private Bag 3105, Hamilton
 
Re: WORST CASE SOME ONE!!!


Communities of practice and habitus: A critique. Alistair Mutch.
Organization Studies
Abstract

Pierre Bourdieu' s concept of habitus is frequently drawn upon in work on learning and knowledge in organizations. However, this use is much looser than Bourdieu's emphasis on habitus as generative structure. This tension is explored in an examination of the work of UK public house managers, using the notion of communities of practice. The issues that this raises about habitus are developed through a consideration of the work of Basil Bernstein. His work indicates the value of a concept that emphasizes durable dispositions to act, but such a concept needs to be embedded in a relational conception of the agency-structure divide.

Keywords: Bourdieu, Bernstein, habitus, communities of practice, public house managers

Introduction

This article has its origins in fieldwork on the way in which a particular group of managers used information. In the course of this fieldwork, Pierre Bourdieu's notion of habitus seemed attractive in making sense of influences on that use of information. Habitus crops up in a number of treatments of managers, learning and knowledge (Lave and Wenger 1991; Von Krogh et al. 2000). One such context for the use of the term is work on communities of practice (Wenger 1999; Delamont and Atkinson 2001). However, in contrasting the use of the term by Bourdieu and by others some contradictions and tensions emerge. In particular, there is a tension between Bourdien's use of the concept as a generative structure that conditions practice and the focus in the literature on communities of practice on structures that emerge from practice. This article explores these tensions in order to consider further the value and use of Bourdieu's concept.

In so doing, we have to bring to the foreground a running subtext. That subtext is the way in which we employ concepts. We can, following Walsham (2001), suggest that we can use concepts in a number of ways. We can use them as sensitizing devices that suggest to us areas of concern on which to focus during our investigations. Alternatively, we can use them as structuring devices to make sense of the results of those investigations. If we use our concepts in these ways, then the way in which we use them does not necessarily have to be 'faithful' to the sources. That is, we can use familiar concepts in new ways, or take concepts from one context to another and play with them. Such playfulness can give us creative new insights. However, there is also a use of concepts which sees them being used in a more rigorous fashion, a fashion which rules some things in and some things out of our investigations and which means that we have to pay more attention to the logical connections between, and entailments of, the con cepts we use (Stones 1996). Such an approach means that we have to pay careful attention to our sources, making sure that we give due care to the consequences that the use of a concept brings with it. Of course, such an approach runs the risk of textual exegesis, with the dangers of dogmatic and sterile adherence to the received word. However, by returning to what Bourdieu says about habitus, it is hoped to reach a balanced assessment of the value of the concept in investigations of contemporary managerial practice.

At the same time, it is hoped to present a picture of managerial use of information in one particular group of managers. The concept of communities of practice is used to present the world of this group of managers. We look at a variety of potential communities of practice, considering the boundaries between each. This enables us to point to the lack of treatment in the literature of dispositions that managers bring into these communities from their life experience and to suggest that habitus might be a fruitful means of pursuing these. This leads us to a brief exposition of Bourdieu's use of habitus, showing how central it is to his thought. The characteristics, as Bourdieu sees it, of a durable, unconscious and embodied set of transposable dispositions are compared to use by others and shown to reveal a tension as outlined above. However, such a tension in turn suggests some problems with habitus itself, notably the difficulty of dealing with change and the vague nature of the concept for use at more detail ed levels of analysis. These weaknesses lead us to an examination of the work of a rather less well-known writer, the British sociologist of education Basil Bernstein. The parallels between his work and that of Bourdieu are explored, with the suggestion that his work provides ideas for more detailed examination of the problematic suggested by Bourdieu. The way in which this work has been applied to managers is briefly explored in order to point to some difficulties. The article closes by suggesting some implications of the discussion for further research. Throughout, the aim is to use the field material to illustrate the potential value of, and the difficulties involved in applying, theoretical notions. As well as helping us understand the case material presented, the objective is also to contribute to the debate on influences on learning in organizations.

The research site for this work was the United Kingdom licensed retail sector. This sector grew out of the brewing industry and comprises the complex of public houses, bars and other outlets that are licensed by the state to sell alcohol for consumption on the premises. While many of these outlets are owned by individual business people, and many others are run by tenants, an increasing proportion are owned by large national companies and run by salaried managers (Mutch 2000a). Such managers form the focus of attention of this research. The research was set in the North East of England district of Whitbread Inns, a division of Whitbread that at the time of the research in 1999 owned 1,700 outlets across the country. (The division and company no longer exist in the same form, the managed houses having been sold off together with most of the other public houses in 2000.) The research involved interviews with 25 individuals, most of them pub managers, but some area and other managers. These were supplemented wit h analysis of company documents, observation of a range of meetings and a survey to capture basic data unavailable from company records. The impetus behind the research was work in the area of information literacy (Mutch 2000b). The focus on habitus, therefore, was an emergent one and, in this sense, this article is a piece of reflexive sociology which does not aim to present fully formed research solutions, but to reflect the contradictions and tensions that emerged in practice.

Communities of Practice and the Pub Manager

When we consider pub managers in the context of communities of practice, a number of potential communities suggest themselves. The following discussion uses four such groupings -- the functional group, the local group, the manager and staff in the pub, and the manager with customers -- to both introduce and elaborate on the working domain of the pub manager and to frame the treatment of habitus. In each case, we trace out the major contours of the suggested community of practice; each could be the focus of detailed exploration, but this is not the concern of the present treatment.

The first such group is that created by the company itself, which we will call 'functional groups'. Managers are grouped into areas of between 14 and 18 houses, each headed by an area manager. The smaller groups tend to be allocated to either area managers with other responsibilities (such as training) or more recent recruits. Companies are keen to encourage the sharing of practice between managers within these groups, having devoted some effort to changing the traditional role of the area manager (Preece et al. 1999; Mutch 2000c). Historically, the pubs were run in considerable detail by area managers, who used information about stock levels and other disciplinary mechanisms (such as personal style) to control their house managers (Cooper 1970; Berkeley 1955). In the words of one area manager who operated in the 1960s and 1970s, when asked about letting house managers know about how much profit they were making: 'Right, knowledge is power so the district manager wouldn't take that back down to the house' (Al f Cross, area manager, Bass, 1965-80). In current practice, house managers received detailed information and area managers were expected to discuss this, seeing their role as encompassing development and facilitation of change in a much more cooperative fashion. House managers in the fieldwork had noticed and welcomed this change of style. However, there were considerable limits on the functional groupings as communities of practice. The groupings were based on a variety of considerations: type of house, roughly equivalent turnover, and geographical location. This meant that managers were often spread over a considerable geographical area, making contact other than by telephone difficult (Mutch 2000c). According to Susan:

'We don't really have -- apart from at area meetings -- we don't really have a lot of contact unless you're good friends with someone. We don't really have a lot of contact and I don't have a lot of time. I have Sundays off... everybody has Wednesday off. So if I went up to visit somebody else they'd be working anyway and I have Sundays off because it's the only day I get to spend with my son because he's at college all week. But I've got two friends who've got pubs the other side of Sheffield and they come down here on their day off and have a chat and what have you, but apart from that it's just people in your own area.' (Susan Milner, house manager, single)

In addition, functional groups changed composition rather too frequently for stable relationships to be established, not least because of a fairly regular turnover of area managers. Area managers, in turn, tend not to be drawn from the ranks of house managers, but from auditors and stock takers. Despite the attempts of the companies, then, there are difficulties in regarding functional groupings of house managers as successful communities of practice.

An alternative sharing of practice took place in the networks of house managers that took two forms. One was that in the locality, where there might be contact and support between managers whose houses fell into different area teams. For Susan Milner, this was another manager who:

'If you ever get problems you just phone John up. But when it comes to things like margins, GPs, anything to do with menus, really anything to do with the business and he's spot on.... People have said, I get really stuck, phone John up, and John is one of these, even if he's still on the phone to you at four o'clock in the morning he'll not stop until you understand it. Then he'll probably turn up in your pub the next morning to see if there's anything else he can do. He's very good.'

This local support was clearly limited by the existence of houses from the same company within reasonable distance. Contact with house managers or tenants from other companies tended to be limited, especially with the atrophy of licensed trade organizations in many areas. A more potent network was with trainer managers, where help and advice was sought: 'So I think yes me and Andy are very similar and because he's been here, poor lad, poor lad. I'm the downfall of his career' (Paul Potter, trainer manager, married couple). However, this contact was often, again, at some physical distance. Such spatial considerations mean that powerful influences on practice were those present during the working day: staff and customers.

All the houses employed staff to different levels, generally on a part-time basis. These employees were enormously important sources of information about both customers and competitors, and the company encouraged the development of this resource. Training schemes were devised which had a crucial role for the house manager in staff development, underpinned by elaborate reward schemes (Arkin 1996). This potential community of practice could develop in two ways. In some cases, the transfer of information seemed to be fairly one way, with little attempt to secure deeper involvement, a process explained by the managers as due to the lack of commitment of part-time staff. As Joanne argued:

'Your greatest pool of ideas, in a sense that my employees are my greatest resource. I know that I have, we try to talk about lots of different ideas but my particular staff, and this is going back some time, I didn't seem to get much back from them. It's now that I'm sort of thinking about why. At the end of the day it's mainly because some of the staff I have employed... I think it's very difficult for any house manager to try and find anybody that isn't behind that bar just for the fact that they need a job.' (Joanne Slater, single, female manager)

In other cases, however, there were attempts to develop deeper understandings of practice. For example, the task of supplying competitor information was regarded as a chore by many managers, to be completed with more or less enthusiasm by themselves. Some, however, sought to involve staff directly. as in the following:

'They find it very interesting, you know, we get, they go in pairs not on their own, so they don't find it uncomfortable. We give them some money for a drink, you know, some drinks or something and I'll look after the bar and I'll say I want you to do a survey for me. There's a sheet of paper and three pubs, the Jockey, the Star and the Earl Grey, and I want to know what products they sell, how they're selling it. So that's product knowledge they're fetching back.' (Margaret Stuart, manager, married couple)

It was noticeable that these attempts involved either a single, female manager or the female partner of a married couple, a distinction that we will return to. However, we have also to consider the potential for house managers to be involved in another 'community of practice' -- that with their customers.

To call this a community of practice might seem to be stretching an already elastic concept a little too far. However, it is useful to consider the way in which customers in this case intrude deeply into the working environment of the manager. They do so perhaps in ways that are not paralleled by other managers, meaning that managers are deeply embedded in their 'environment'. Indeed, that environment comes into the work setting every day. And these are not abstract customers, but embodied individuals who may have been using the house for many years. Indeed, the social setting of the pub is one that is open to constant negotiation and renegotiation between manager, staff and customers (Smith 1981). The clearest evidence of a clash here comes with the use by the company of 'mystery visitors' who check that laid down quality standards are being met. League tables are drawn up based on scores from such visits and form an important part of discussions with area managers. The clash comes when a centrally derived s tandard of practice, such as always asking a customer what she or he would like to drink, is brought up against the local knowledge that a certain regular always has the same drink in the same glass and is offended if asked to change. We can locate the manager on the boundary between two sets of practice, but the pull of the locality is strong. It is this pull of the local that we can see reflected in the following discussion at an area meeting:

'Why does it have the actual wage written on it so every member of staff knows exactly what everyone else is getting paid? You'd end up having to change your staff every week.'

'Signing sheets should be individual or signed so that people can't see what other people are getting.'

'That would never happen in a steelworks or something like that, you would never ever...'

'It shouldn't need to happen basically. It shouldn't need to happen. They shouldn't need to sign for it.'

'That would never ever happen in a factory.' (Emphases added.)

What is instructive here are the comparisons made to steelworks and factories, comparisons that relate to the local conditions of these managers, but that might point to interpretative schemes that might go beyond these being simply reference points drawn from the local context. Certainly, we can attribute such comparisons to such a context, or to individual biographies, but there seems to be something more than this that Bourdieu's notion of habitus might help with. Others who have used the notion of community of practice certainly seem to agree. For example, in their discussion of the socialization of doctoral science students, Delamont and Atkinson argue that 'Tacit knowledge is grounded in knowledge and skills acquired through membership of a particular social group. It includes the taken-for-granted and embodied competence of habitus' (2001:101). The embodied aspect of habitus is indeed attractive in the context of our house managers, who spend much of their day in embodied practice, with both staff and customers. However, there are issues about the relationship between communities of practice and habitus that need to be explored. It is this exploration that forms the basis of the next section, but put simply the tension is as follows. Bourdieu's notion of habitus is not just about embodied forms of practice, but modes of thought that are unconsciously acquired, that are resistant to change and are transferable between different contexts. The communities of practice literature, by contrast, focuses on changes brought about through practice itself. If the use of habitus is a more general one (and the word is not, of course, exclusively that of Bourdieu (Smith 2001)), then we could argue that communities of practice develop their own embodied forms of practice. However, this does not seem to be the sense in which Bourdieu uses the term. To explore this tension, it is worth looking in more detail at Bourdieu' s use of habitus.

Bourdieu and Habitus

The notion of habitus has been a central one in Bourdieu's massive oeuvre. A recent formulation that can act as a starting point for our discussion is the following:

'The conditionings associated with a particular class of conditions of existence produce ha bit us, systems of durable, transposable dispositions, structured structures predisposed to function as structuring structures, that is, as principles which generate and organize practices and representations that can be objectively adapted to their outcomes without presupposing a conscious aiming at ends or an express mastery of the operations necessary in order to attain them. Objectively "regulated" and "regular" without being in any way the product of obedience to rules, they can be collectively orchestrated without being the product of the organizing action of a conductor.' (Bourdieu 1990: 53)

If we explore this statement, we see, first, an explicit link between patterns of thought and social conditions. Particular forms of social condition produce particular forms of habitus. The habitus is in turn not so much a content as a set of principles, principles which are embodied, expressed in the hauteur of the aristocrat or the stance of the peasant. Rather than a focus on particular contexts in which principles can be employed, the emphasis is on the way in which a similar set of principles is employed across contexts, is 'applied, by simple transfer, to the most dissimilar areas of practice' (Bourdieu 1986: 175). A crucial factor in this application is then whether they are appropriate to the particular rules of the game. Bourdieu is particularly concerned to stress the practical mastery of the rules of the game and the effortless performance of rules without the recognition that such rules are being followed. The rules emerge from the ebb and flow of practice and are inherent in the relations that o perate in a particular field. 'There is', argues Bourdieu (1990: 50), 'an economy of practices, a reason immanent in practices, whose "origin" lies neither in the "decisions" of reason understood as rational calculation nor in the determinations of mechanisms external to and superior to the agents.' However, the ability to employ the appropriate strategies depends on the tacit acquisition of generative principles that depend on social position. Those from different social conditions will tend to respond in the same way, because of the objective conditions of existence that they share (Bourdieu 1990: 58). Their early experiences will be crucial in determining their future responses, as they will tend to react to new experiences by assimilating them to the generative principles they acquired (Bourdieu 1990: 60). The focus on practice is clearly attractive to those developing the notion of communities of practice (Wenger 1999: 281 note 6), but we need to recognize that for Bourdieu habitus is prior to practice a nd regulates it. This seems to give problems for conceptions that privilege the development of modes of operation through practice. If habitus, as Bourdieu has it, is acquired at an early stage in an unconscious fashion and is resistant to change, then the issue is the interaction between habitus and practice, rather than its creation through practice.

Habitus is initially attractive in considering our pub managers not only for its focus on embodied practice, but also for its attention to their social origins. The dramaturgical aspects of the house managers' practice are ones recognized and valued by many managers. Each session is a performance to be carefully orchestrated by them. As Paul explains:

'Some days you think to yourself, "oh bloody hell I've got work again today" and it becomes a drag -- and then you walk in that evening at eight o'clock, the pub, you know your pub's buzzing, people are enjoying it and it clicks you on straight away.' (Paul Potter)

For the company, there may be evidence, drawn from customer surveys, that the landlord should take a more backstage role, but this is resisted in concrete practice by many managers. In Paul's direct terms, 'It's crap, the landlord should be seen in every pub.' Elaborating on this. Doug argues strongly that his actions have direct consequences for success:

'I mean, I do the bar normally three until six and the crowd that come in they come and see me and we have them all sat behind the bar and everybody knows each other and they have a laugh. We've got a local tax inspector there haven't we? We've got a couple of accountants and we've got a couple of lads that work on a building site and what have you and I can relate to all of them or they can all relate to me. We all get involved and we have a laugh like, you know, and we have a couple of beers with them and that's most probably put five thousand a year on my profit you know. If I just worked to the policy which they want me to do, you know, "Would you like Heineken or Stella?" and all stuff like this, they wouldn't come in here.' (Doug Jess, managers, married couple)

On top of this embodied practice are the social origins of many managers, who are not only in daily contact with their 'audience', but are also a product of it. Traditionally, the move into pub management has been a 'career' change, generally happening from the mid-30s onwards. Many managers were drawn from the ranks of those whose initial career choice forced such a switch -- notably the services and sport (Ferguson 1999). Others came from predominantly manual craft backgrounds, often having experienced a variety of occupations. Mary contributes both her and Doug's trajectories:

'No qualifications at all. You've done this work on building sites and foundry. You worked in a foundry didn't you? I was a secretary, well I was a receptionist secretary for five years and then I left to have a baby. Then I worked in a supermarket on the checkout, you know, dealing with people.' (Mary Jess, manager, married couple)

Such recruits often have little or no formal education: their skills have been acquired in practice and they put their focus on the necessity of such skills (Mutch 2001). However, this situation is subject to change, and such changes suggest problems with the use of habitus.

Part of our problem rests with the level of our analysis. Bourdieu's use of habitus has to be seen in the context of his broader project, 'whose ambition is not simply to combine, articulate or join structure and agency but, more fundamentally, to dissolve the very distinction between these two seemingly antinomic viewpoints of social analysis' (Wacquant 1993: 3). This leads to analyses at a broad level of generalization, but problems occur when one seeks to apply the ideas at a more detailed level of analysis. Before examining such issues, however, and given the central place which habitus occupies in Bourdieu's project, it is necessary to recognize a more general critique. This has seen accusations of a functionalist approach, in which social practices are explained by the effects they produce (Callinicos 1999; De Certeau 1984). This form of circular argument allows little purchase on the levers of change. While Bourdieu's concern has been to incorporate active, practical action into his perspective, the fo cus has tended to be, argues Fowler, on the dominant' classes. Habitus, she contends, 'possesses a fatalistic consequence, particularly acute in depicting the subordinate class, whose habitus is simultaneously defensive and the product of a colonised sense of inferiority' (Fowler 1997: 4). So while valorizing particular aspects of working-class thought and culture in opposition to dominant codes, it allows little space for their generalization as a force of change. Language is seen as a powerful socializing force, with oppositional sites being restricted to arenas such as the prison and the pub. The notions that Bourdieu adopts in respect of patterns of thought, on this argument, are better at explaining transmission and reproduction than at explaining change. To summarize crudely: if patterns of thought are established through tacit acquisition at an early stage, if such patterns of thought are durable and transferable, and if they reflect and reproduce existing patterns of social structure, then how are the y to change? If the existing social structures are made possible through patterns of thought which have their inevitability built in to the very bodily positions adopted, how can they be changed, other than by exogenous shocks (Douglas 1996: 160)? How can patterns of thought emerge which challenge existing modes of thought, at a macro-level, or how can individuals, at a micro-level, escape the habitus which they have acquired? How, in LiPuma's (1993) words, can we explain Bourdieu? How is it that a postman's son from a remote peasant area of France can ascend to the heights of Parisian academic life and proceed to write in such detail about the academic habitus?

This is to raise issues with change at an individual level. There are also changes, changes that we can track in the domain of the pub manager, which might be thought to challenge the links between conditions of labour and dispositions to think and act. Calhoun (1993: 85) argues that 'The roles of information technology, very large-scale administrative organizations, and impersonal markets are all important, both in their own right and as factors militating for basic changes in habits and fields.' In the context of our pub managers, the spread of IT-based information systems has seen, as in many industries, the growth of data available to the pub manager (Baker et al. 1998). Each manager received a monthly profit and loss account for the house and was expected (in theory) to use it to plan their activities. In turn, this report was based on the electronic gathering of data based on electronic point-of-sale equipment. In Lash's (1993: 204) terms, 'This means that agents must be reflexive in taking into account the very rules and resources of the productive situation itself.' Such changes, also noted by others (Zuboff 1988; Earl 1994; Lojkine 1986), are part of changes in recruitment practices that, in turn, colour the communities of practice that pub managers operate in. Companies have turned their attentions to new pools of recruits, focusing their attention on both graduates and on part-time staff (Mutch 2001). The latter route is particularly important in the expansion of the number of single, female managers. The result has been a much more heterogeneous workforce. One implication of such changes, changes which lead both to changing structural conditions of work and the potential for much greater change during an individual's life, is that the notion of a basic, 'foundational' habitus might be harder to sustain. As an illustration of the sort of difficulties we can get into, it is interesting to examine Brubaker's (1993) essay on 'Social Theory as Habitus'. In this he argues for the existence and necessity of a sociological habitus, a collection of dispositions which encourage one to see the world sociologically. A prime component of this habitus is, or should be, a conscious reflection on these dispositions. Of course, we have already seen that habitus is distinguished by its early acquisition, in largely tacit fashion. As a result, it is both embodied and largely unconscious. It represents a series of interrelated durable and transposable generative practices which are generalized across contexts. Recognizing this leads Brubaker to argue for a stratified habitus: 'The sociological habitus, then, is a tertiary or higher-order habitus, overlaid on, transforming without superseding, a primary familial and a secondary scholastic habitus' (1993: 226). But if this is the case, do we not lose what seems to be central to the concept, the durability and transferability of practices? We risk the creation of one, two, many habituses and so splintering the concept beyond recognition. It could be a cogent argument that the g rowth of instrumental reason weakens the grasp of the primary habitus and increases the need for abstract reasoning -- as Calhoun (1993) seems to be arguing. One response in these circumstances is to reject habitus in Bourdieu's sense. However, our observation in the case of the pub managers is that habitus, in the sense of durable dispositions to act, has something to offer, if we can find more precise ways of conceiving of its formation and impact. Such ways might in their turn help us examine the impact of previous experience on the ability to negotiate identity and meaning that plays a central part in Wenger's (1999) conception of communities of practice.

The issue, then, is trying to think through this previous experience in ways that are less vague than Bourdieu's usage, but still retain the emphasis on tacit acquisition and durable existence. We can draw upon Bernstein's critique here:

'Habitus is described in terms of what it gives rise to, and brings, or does not bring about. It is described in terms of the external underlying analogies it regulates. But it is not described with reference to the particular ordering principles or strategies, which give rise to the formation of a particular habitus. The formation of the internal structure of the particular habitus, the mode of its specific acquisition, which gives it its specificity, is not described. How it comes to be is not part of the description, only what it does. There is no description of its particular formation.' (1996: 136)

This indeterminacy of concepts is argued by some to be a strength of Bourdieu's thought, by others to be a passing irritation that has to be lived with (Delamont et al. 1993: 321). The problem comes with operationalization, with uses being as a convenient form of shorthand or as a theoretical gloss that explains little (Reay 1995; Corsun and Costen 2001). Such uses seem to fall under Stones's (1996: 107) critique when he suggests that 'Characterising labels are often attributed to individual agents, or to supposedly like thinking cabals (aggregate groups), in order to fix the theorist's interpretation more firmly and to camouflage the lack of appropriate evidence.' If such an accusation is not to stick, are there ways of rescuing habitus? The following section suggests that there are, if we place it in the context of a rich and complex ontology and if we develop its scope by drawing upon the ideas of others.

Writing Grammars for Habitus?

Fittingly, the first of these others that we draw upon is Basil Bernstein (Atkinson 1985; Sadovnik 1995). Fittingly, because of a shared interest in education (Bourdieu and Passeron 1977; Coffins 1993) and a brief period of shared workspace. There are other parallels (Archer 1983; Harker and May 1993), but Bernstein's work, compared to that of Bourdieu, has had relatively little influence outside the sphere of educational studies (with the important exception of those looking at changes in capitalism from the perspective of sociolinguistics, such as Gee (1996) and Gee et al. (1996)). Accordingly, a brief outline of his work is in order. Bernstein's work originates from his experience in teaching young apprentices in the East End of London. His first explanation of the discrepancies in performance between those from different social backgrounds revolved around the distinction between 'restricted' and 'elaborated' codes (Bernstein 1971). The restricted code was related to a specific context, with a use of langu age which rested heavily on shared assumptions about that context. It would, therefore, be restricted in the terms and concepts used. An elaborated code, by contrast, would be appropriate to contexts where such assumptions were not shared and where language would have to make explicit its claims. Some speakers, Bernstein argued, had access to two codes and such access was crucially related to social class. For the social division of labour gave rise to conditions which favoured and reinforced a restricted code. Such codes are entirely appropriate to some contexts, but not to others. Those who only have access to a restricted code are, therefore, at a disadvantage when an elaborated code is required. However, the issue is not that one code is inherently 'better' than another, but that the performances produced by one are more appropriate in certain circumstances than others. Centrally, for Bernstein, such a circumstance was the school and his attention turned to the ways in which the school could modify such o rientations to meaning. Restricted or elaborated meanings were initially acquired, he argued, through largely tacit modes, chiefly in the family. The existence of such modes of acquisition was powerfully demonstrated in the work of Hasan (1995) in her analysis of large volumes of natural speech. If an orientation to meaning were to be acquired in the home that was legitimated and encouraged by the official institutions of education, then pupils from such a background would be at an advantage. Bernstein's focus, therefore, shifts to the school and the analysis of the pedagogic process (1977).

The work of Bernstein and his collaborators supplements Bourdieu's work in a number of ways. It reinforces through some detailed empirical work (Morals et al. 1992; Daniels 1995) the emphasis on unconsciously acquired dispositions that profoundly affect subsequent performance. This work has produced further elaboration which makes it possible to specify in much more detail how these dispositions might be formed. Indeed, Bernstein has suggested his notion of 'code may be regarded as an attempt to write what might perhaps be called pedagogic grammars of specialized habituses and the forms of their transmission which attempt to regulate their acquisition' (1990: 3). (What Bernstein means by code is as follows: 'A code is a regulative principle, tacitly acquired, which selects and integrates: (a) relevant meanings (b) forms of their realization (c) evoking contexts' (1990: 14).) Lastly, the scope of these ideas has been broader than the perceived focus of Bourdieu on elites. Much of Bernstein's work has been on c hanges in the new middle class. This has given rise to an interesting application of his work in which Savage et al. (1992) have drawn on Bernstein's notion of an 'invisible pedagogy' to explore differences between managers. An invisible pedagogy is one that stresses individual development and lacks clear rules for measuring achievement. In such a pedagogy, the rules that help us recognize particular contexts as requiring the application of a particular performance are not clearly specified, but are recognizable by those from a particular background. We can distinguish such 'recognition rules' from rules which govern the 'realization' of competent performances. Work on these rules in a school setting argues that while realization rules can be acquired and modified by particular pedagogical strategies, recognition rules seem to come from outside school. An invisible pedagogy is that, argues Bernstein, favoured by the professional fraction of the new middle class that is associated with 'progressive' forms of e ducation. In this, argue Savage et al., it tends to favour that fraction of the managerial and professional class that has access to stores of cultural capital and against what we could broadly term 'operations' managers -- into which latter category our pub managers would fall. That is, Savage et al. (1992: 128) identify the latter grouping with a 'stolid "undistinctive" -- or just plain boring -- lifestyle' (a distinction that has some parallels with the work on food consumption by Warde et al. (1999) that draws on Bourdieu for its categories). Again, the work of Savage et al. is at a rather broader level of analysis than the individual organization and it could be criticized for some confusion in its categories. (The problem is that their 'professional' grouping includes managers in, for example, marketing and personnel, who would be grouped with pub managers and other operations managers in occupational classifications. In other words, like is not being compared with like.) However, their work is suggesti ve of a need, as we have argued above, to be careful about treating managers as a homogenous group and to explore their social origins. Given the origins of the distinctions that Bernstein draws, it might be rather easier to apply his notions of rules of recognition and realization to issues of managerial education and development (Mutch 2002), but one would suggest that any body of work that seeks to develop a social theory of learning, as does the communities of practice literature, ought to look carefully at what he has to offer.

Bernstein's work, then, offers ways in which we might connect the rather slippery and vague categories of high theory with the detailed investigation of concrete situations (Stones 1996). However, we have to recognize a major criticism that parallels the criticism offered of Bourdieu above: that his work emphasizes reproduction over transformation. Bernstein's argument would be that the possibilities of change are built in to tensions in the classification system itself. That is, classification schemes have to deal with the thinkable and the unthinkable, but in delineating a class of phenomena that are unthinkable, they allow the possibility of those things being thought by those with access to the code. Hence the importance of the acquisition of the rules which allow agents to produce elaborated performances, for these allow them to produce oppositional arguments. Classification rules, therefore, which reflect organizations of power in society, contain the seeds of their own downfall, if oppositional agents can acquire the rules by which to subvert the code. However, quite how they do this is problematic. Bernstein is clear in arguing, for example, against Foucault's formulation of discourse, that there is a place for agency and that his concept of the code does not determine human action (Bernstein 1990: 6). He suggests at one point that oppositional codes can emerge from the activities of organizations such as trade unions (Bernstein 1990: 111), although precisely how, given the tacit acquisition of rules at an early stage, is not clear. The problem is expressed more clearly in the following:

'The successful have access to the general principle, and some of these -- a small number who are going to produce the discourse -- will become aware that the mystery of discourse is not order, but disorder, incoherence, the possibility of the unthinkable. But the long socialization into the pedagogic code can remove the danger of the unthinkable, and of alternative realities.' (Bernstein 1996: 26)

So only those who have undergone a long pedagogic process can unlock the mysteries of the code. But having the keys to the code does not mean that they will be used, for we will have forgotten why we have been striving to find them. The working class is condemned to reproduce their position in the existing scheme of things, for they only rarely enter the long process. But the middle class, too, will reproduce their position, for they cease to think the unthinkable. The process of change seems to be dependent on changes in the social division of labour. What we lack is a sense of active and creative agency, of agents operating with free will in conditions that are not of their own choosing, but which they can transform (or reproduce) by their activity.

One source for such a perspective, mentioned a number of times in passing by Bernstein, is Paul Willis's (1977) work on the opposition of working-class lads to schooling. Willis argued that their opposition is a positive act of resistance, which builds on alternative conceptions of work that are deeply implicated in notions of masculinity and manual labour. Some of these children may well, to use Bernstein's concepts, recognize the context. Some may also possess the rules to realize a competent performance, but they choose not to, in solidarity with an oppositional concept. This is far from all gain, of course. At the heart of this opposition is a crippling opposition to mental labour, formed by the attachment to masculinity that gives the resources for opposition, but also prevents the opposition being fully realized (Thompson 1988). However, what is important about this account is its focus on agency and the possibility of change. Of course, Willis's work was concerned with white, working-class boys; in our case, what seems interesting is the difference between what we might style 'traditional' approaches to the use of information, typified by a view of information as a static product, and approaches which take a more 'processual-relational' (to use Watson and Harris's (1999) terminology) view. The latter seemed in the fieldwork to be associated either with female, single managers or managing couples in which the woman took an equal role in the running of the house. We might in this case want to set this in the context of the strong identification of male managers with their traditional customer base (Smith 1981). In this setting, it is women that are in the peripheral locations, operating on the boundaries. Perhaps these locations enable them to escape the conditionings of the habitus that receive reinforcement in the case of their male counterparts in day-to-day encounters and so promote a localized set of understandings.

Conclusion

Drawing upon the resources offered by Bourdieu and Bernstein might seem out of proportion to the examples offered by our pub managers, but their notions are useful in taking our investigations further. In turn, trying to apply the concepts drawn from their work points to a need for clarification and care in use. What, then, does habitus offer us in the context of managers and their practice? If we see theory as sensitizing us to aspects that require our attention, then habitus suggests that we need to pursue the social and educational origins of our chosen group of managers in order to examine their effects on current practice. In the case of our pub managers, this reveals the existence of two broad groups of managers -- those recruited in the traditional manner from the (predominantly) male, skilled working class and those from a much more heterogeneous group in which women play a more important part. This suggests that interesting light can be shed on practice by looking at the antecedents to practice, but in turn such a focus suggests a tension with the use of a notion such as habitus. This tension only exists if we are using habitus in a particular sense, that is, in the sense that Bourdieu uses it. If we regard concepts as devices to play with, ways in which to think differently, then this distinction might be thought to be unimportant. However, if we wish to take Bourdieu's concept in the context of his overall work, then we need to do so recognizing the main characteristics of his use of the term, characteristics that are given some support by the rather more detailed work of Bernstein and associates. These are that the habitus is related to the social conditions of its production, that it is unconsciously acquired, that it is durable and embodied, and that it transcends different social circumstances to produce characteristic dispositions to act. In Wenger' s terms, it is a 'generative infrastructure' which has to be contrasted with the focus in his concept of communities of practice of habitus as 'an eme rging property of interacting practices' (1999: 96). For Wenger, experience gained outside a particular community of practice is important, but it can be modified by that community of practice. Indeed, he argues, 'we engage in different practices in each of the communities of practice to which we belong. We often behave rather differently in each of them, construct different aspects of ourselves, and gain different perspectives' (Wenger 1999: 159). Again, we can see the tension between this perspective and Bourdieu's emphasis on dispositions to act in very similar ways in very different circumstances. This focus on knowledgeable actors is one that appears in Giddens (1991), whose resolution of the agency-structure dilemma in structuration theory is influential in Wenger's (1999: 281 note 4) treatment. Bernstein, by contrast, is concerned that such a focus, which he sees as having more general roots in the work of thinkers such as Chomsky and Piaget, emphasizes 'an in-built procedural democracy, an in-built cr eativity, an in-built virtuous self-regulation. And if it is not in-built, the procedures arise out of, and contribute to social practice, with a creative potential'. Such perspectives, he argues, mean that we pay 'the price of abstracting the individual from the analysis of distributions of power and principles of control which selectively specialize modes of acquisition and realizations' (Bernstein 1996: 58). The problem with the approach taken by both Bernstein and Bourdieu, by contrast, is that they tend toward a sense of fatalism and an inevitable reproduction of existing patterns of thought and action.

The resolution of this tension might besought in approaches that emphasize not the either/or of agency and structure, but the both/and, recognizing not only their mutual constitution, but also the need to examine the interrelationships between them (Archer 1995; Willmott 1999; Carter and Sealey 2000). Such an approach could be applied to the notion of communities of practice, examining the relationships between the work of identification and negotiability that are supplied by them and those that actors bring with them. This is to argue that multi-membership is not necessarily a resource that translates into different perspectives. There are factors, and something like habitus is one of them, that condition the extent of difference between different contexts. The analytical interest lies in the extent to which such dispositions are challenged by and altered by different practices, or to what extent they remain immune to such influences. The notion of boundary here in the case of our pub managers seems fruitful ly to apply to women as being those who in these circumstances are crossing the boundaries and who are able to negotiate new ways of knowing within their communities of practice. This in turn might usefully be related to changes in the broader economy that, Cameron (2000) argues, can be seen as privileging ways of talking and acting that have come to be associated with women.

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Re: WORST CASE SOME ONE!!!

One Big Happy Family.(emotional intelligence in the office).


THE EMOTIONALLY INTELLIGENT ORGANIZATION

Organizations that lack Emotional Intelligence (EI) are at risk of failing to attain their strategic goals. Their style and culture inhibit spontaneity, prize only the routine, don't tolerate errors, devalue diverse views, stifle criticism of superiors or encourage secrecy and retribution.

The Emotionally Intelligent Organization (EIO), on the other hand, promotes a culture in which openness and transparency are the norm, and respectful assertiveness is commonplace. It also encourages diversity tolerates constructive disagreement, and values contained flexibility and multidirectional communication. The EIO has the capacity to exploit the creative tension that emerges from maintaining a balance between being flexible yet focused, independent yet socially responsible, optimistic yet realistic, spontaneous yet contained, and empathic though assertive. This tension and balance enable the organization to harness the contributions of its workforce and successfully respond to an ever-changing external environment.

An EIO has the capacity to plan for two years down the road, while remaining continuously alert and responsive to appropriate opportunities and significant threats. Harvard Business School Professor Rosabeth Moss Kanter notes the importance of that flexibility -- one of the 15 components of EI - when she talks about the organization's need to be fluid, responsive and agile. When she uses terms such as "building coalitions," "involving people" and "understanding the politics of change," she is identifying other key components of EI like empathy relationship building and reality testing. And when she underlines the crucial capacity of "making everyone a hero" -- or recognizing, rewarding and celebrating day-today accomplishments -- she is again speaking of empathy and relationship building. (Emotional intelligence is the social emotional, personal and survival skills that are essential to meeting the challenges of daily living.)

The EIO knows its "3 Rs." They are not reading, 'riting and 'rithmetic, but the capacity to recruit, retain and rouse its workforce. The EIO develops a profile of each new recruit's requirements for technical skills, industry knowledge and emotional intelligence. It can define which of the 15 components are crucial for any given position. For example, assertiveness and flexibility maybe required for a front-line worker and a CEO. But though it may be only useful for the front-line worker's success, it may be absolutely essential for the CEO.



Given that the social contract between organization and employee has been broken, retaining excellent new hires has become extremely important. An EIO's culture emphasizes relationship building, empathy and social responsibility, attributes that enhance trust, commitment and connection between a new hire and the organization. The CEO'S capacity to reality-test and problem-solve allows the organization to identify a poor fit early and work to make it better. Moreover, retention bolsters morale that otherwise would be severely undercut by rapid turnover. In this era of knowledge workers, retention is particularly vital because when knowledge workers leave, they take their intellectual capital with them.

While attracting and retaining exemplary employees is necessary, it is not the only thing an organization must do to maintain a competitive advantage. Also required -- even mandatory -- is the organization's capacity to rouse its workers -- to get them excited and passionate about their roles, their contributions and their organization. Inspiring and motivating employees has more to do with an organization's El than they do with money Money is a great demotivator: if people aren't paid enough, they will leave or become counterproductive. However, if they are paid enough, or even more than enough, they may also not work effectively, especially if they feel unacknowledged, exploited or confused by contradictory directions, inspiration is engendered mostly in a culture that recognizes employees' contributions, addresses their needs appropriately and involves them in decision making. The employees, in turn, manifest empathy, relationship building and social responsibility.

What factors help the organization nurture its potential to become an Emotionally Intelligent Organization? Two intertwining requirements facilitate that possibility The first is the CEO's emotional intelligence. The second is the presence (or lack) of certain crucial organizational structures.

EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE: THE CEO

The CEO's El drives the emotional intelligence of the organization. The research my co-author Steven Stein and I published in our book, The E2 Edge, notes that emotionally intelligent leaders have a strong sense of self-awareness, self-regard and self-actualization.

Self-awareness is the capacity to know what one feels, why one feels it and the impact these feelings have on others. Self-regard is the ability to know one's strengths and weaknesses and feel confident and comfortable, "warts and all." CEOs who have low self-regard either feel their strengths are not robust enough, believe they should have no weaknesses whatsoever or magnify the power of their weaknesses. Those with low levels of self-actualization are dissatisfied with what they have accomplished. They feel that whatever they have attained is not enough. They are like the student for whom anything less than 100 percent is equivalent to zero.

CEOs who lack these qualities feel threatened by exemplary colleagues and successful subordinates, and so tend to surround themselves with weaker colleagues and subordinates. These same CEOs, exhibiting behaviour that only reflects their lack of self-awareness, are oblivious to why they continually choose people who are less than competent. They similarly attempt to surround themselves with "Yes" people who bolster the CEO's sense of self-regard and self-esteem, and who are not a threat.

On the other hand, CEOs with a healthy or enhanced self-regard and self-actualization feel comfortable enough with themselves to acknowledge their mistakes and flaws. They have what the British educator and psychoanalyst Michael Balint describes as "the courage of one's own stupidity" We can also call this the capacity to tolerate not knowing all the answers. Such executives can withstand the frustration and anxieties of "not knowing" or remain unbothered by questions that can't be answered immediately, despite the pressure to resolve things quickly In so doing, they create a "reflective space," a sanctuary in which they can think creatively and problem solve.

The emotionally intelligent CEO exhibits another key attribute, empathy Empathy is the capacity to see the world from another person's perspective, not necessarily in order to agree with that perspective, but at least to briefly experience the other's views, thoughts and feelings. It is the ability to "read" where the other person is "coming from" -- without commenting on the appropriateness or inappropriateness of the other person's perspective.

Empathy is the sine qua non for building bridges. It has the potential to turn adversarial relationships into collaborative alliances. When you make an empathic statement to others they feel understood and soothed. As well, the collaborative relationship between the two of you is strengthened and nurtured. The CEO with empathic skills listens actively and deeply and leaves the speaker feeling that he or she is being attended to and understood.

However, an organization that hopes to become emotionally intelligent requires more than an emotionally intelligent CEO. It needs the crucial organizational structures that support and facilitate the spread of El throughout the organization.

ORGANIZATIONAL STRUCTURES

The structures that channel El through an organization must be clearly defined and agreed upon by all. These include the organizational chart, role descriptions, lines of accountability and authority, and formal channels of communication up and down the organizational chart. These components are understood -- wrongly -- to be inflexible, hierarchical and command-and-control relics. They are further understood -- wrongly -- to be obstacles to managing change, peer supervision, organizational flexibility and innovative thinking. These beliefs are myths. In fact, collectively these components form the foundation on which peer supervision, project teams and up-and-down decision making can efficiently take place. For example, they allow the organization to be flexible yet not impulsive. They also allow for bottom-up decision making, without incurring the risk of arbitrariness or fragmentation.

As Peter Drucker points out, "People must know and understand the organizational structure they are to work in....There are different ways to manage different people in different circumstances." A time of crisis requires an authoritative -- not authoritarian -- style of leadership. A consensual, bottom-up style is right for problem solving when a crisis is not at hand.

However, there is a another often overlooked, key reason why these components must be in place: They help employees experience and identify with the CEO'S emotionally intelligent competencies and thus support the spread of El throughout the organization.

HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN?

Consider what unfolds when such components are absent. When roles are not clearly defined, workers experience role ambiguity. And like all human beings in ambiguous situations, they begin to experience anxiety and a sense of uncertainty. A curious psychological phenomenon then begins to appear: Employees begin to develop a distorted view of the emotionally intelligent CEO. This puts the CEO at risk of having his or her behaviour misinterpreted and motives misconstrued. Similarly, when lines of accountability are unclear, role conflict occurs. Here too a sense of personal anxiety and subjective uncertainty emerges. And, again, influenced by these subjective feelings, employees begin to develop a distorted view of the CEO.

When groups begin to experience uncertainty and anxiety their perception of the leader changes, regardless of how impeccable that leader's behaviour, and despite his or her evident emotional intelligence. In these situations, even subliminal levels of anxiety and uncertainty can still profoundly cloud their vision. According to Wilfred Bion, the British psychoanalyst and group scholar, this shift can occur in two directions.

First, workers may start to see the CEO as their saviour, the only one who can solve all of the organization's problems. At the same time, these workers see themselves as inadequate. Such groupthink spreads among employees at all levels of the organization. An organization in the throes of such groupthink sees and believes the leader to be omnipotent. He or she is a figure that will take on all of their tasks, regardless of how emotionally intelligent the CEO is or is not, and of how he or she values or does not value delegation, decision sharing and employees who contribute continuously Workers increasingly become emotionally inept as a growing dependency replaces independence, passivity replaces assertiveness, unrealistic perceptions replace reality testing and healthy optimism gives way to a head-in-the-sand Pollyannaism. In such a scenario, the organization's effectiveness is seriously undermined.

An even more harmful form of groupthink takes hold when employees start to view their CEO as malevolent, controlling and as being driven by ulterior motives. At the same time, these employees start to feel they are under attack. Quite quickly, suspicion replaces empathy cliques supplant relationship building, defensive rigidity swamps flexibility and the organization's functions start to become fragmented.

And worse still, employees who view the CEO in a distorted way provoke the leader to behave just like they perceive him or her. Even the CEO with an enhanced capacity for El is at risk of losing this capacity, as he or she is subliminally pressed into behaving like an omnipotent saviour or acting in secretive, vindictive ways. This only fosters organizational ineptitude.

BUILDING AN EMOTIONALLY INTELLIGENT ORGANIZATION

Building an EIO requires the buy-in of the board and CEO. Without at least an attempted buy-in, the CEO will sabotage the EIO, regardless of how well-meaning he or she might be. As well, the organizational structures essential for supporting and facilitating the dissemination of EI throughout the organization must be present.

The CEO and senior executives must also be interested in assessing their own EI through the EQ-i evaluating tool. (The EQ-i is a valid, reliable self-reporting questionnaire of 133 questions that yield a respondent's profile for each of the 15 components that make up emotional intelligence.) The EQ-i should be administered by an organizational consultant who knows how to apply and interpret it, and also knows how to offer feedback. Feedback doesn't mean merely reporting the numerical score. It involves a number of things: an active, two-way discussion of the component being measured -- for example, flexibility; how much of a factor this component is in the workplace; and the CEO's response to this information. The consultant also continuously monitors the CEO's responses during this feedback to corroborate or disprove the robustness of the component under discussion. For example, a score that suggests that the CEO has a low capacity for flexibility might be confirmed if he or she behaves in a rigid, single-m inded manner throughout the feedback -- regardless of how many examples of workplace flexibility he or she cites.

Identifying, discussing and exploring these apparent contradictions and inconsistencies adds depth and tailored meaning to the assessment and understanding of the component under discussion.

The CEO needs to explore the idea of developing an ETO in an open, candid discussion with executives at the next lower level. This discussion subsequently cascades throughout the organization with the goal of obtaining buy-in from all employees.

Why start at the top? First, without a buy-in from the CEO, an attempt to develop an EIO will be dogged by failure. If the CEO does not have EI, his or her behaviour will undermine the development of an EI culture. A CEO who is autocratic, secretive and suspicious cannot nurture the development of empathy flexibility and relationship building in others. In fact, such a CEO will cause all employees to exhibit demotivated, unauthentic and compliant behaviour when dealing with those above them, and authoritarian, mistrustful behaviour with those below.

Although EI separates the successful from the less successful at all levels of the organization, the difference becomes more profound as one moves up the organizational chart. Why? Because as one moves up, the roles and tasks require relatively less technical skills and knowledge, and more self-knowledge, relationship building, flexibility and longer-range planning. For example, a CEO in the food industry may be able to cross over to the auto industry with much more ease than a front-line worker can.

The next phase in developing an EIO is to measure, first, senior executives' El by using the EQ-i, and then, the organizational EI by applying the Benchmarking Organizational Emotional Intelligence instrument (BOEI). This tool measures the important components of the organizational culture. In the real world, however, the most important benchmark is whether organizational targets are being met. Reaching those targets - increased sales, customer loyalty and satisfaction, staff retention, motivation and profitability - is associated with training employees to develop emotional intelligence.

One-to-one coaching sessions with senior executives and group-oriented teaching sessions throughout the organization is the next step. The focus in both cases is to identify those components of El that are the most relevant to the roles and tasks of senior executives and team members, and then to use real-world situations to strengthen their EI in dealing with those situations.

EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE IN THE 21ST CENTURY

Is emotional intelligence a fad? Have other models replaced EI? The answers seem to be "No."

The EIO has an enduring quality that does not contradict other models, but rather offers a foundation that can make them more effective. Consider Peter Senge's Learning Organization. One aspect of the Learning Organization emphasizes the importance of personal mastery through developing patience and seeing reality objectively. These two attributes speak to the competencies of impulse control and reality testing. When Senge writes of unearthing and scrutinizing certain mental models, he is referring to the capacities for reality testing and self-awareness. Team learning, another core aspect, is not possible without empathy relationship building and assertiveness.

Emotional intelligence is also very relevant when considering the roles of the knowledge worker and intellectual capital. When the knowledge worker leaves an organization, he or she takes intellectual capital along. In an EIO, the validation and acknowledgement that emanate from empathy strengthen the retention of knowledge workers, increasing the organization's intellectual capital.

Think, too, of e-commerce. One of the major challenges facing e-commerce - whether it is B2C or B2B - is loyalty. Without face-to-face contact, without seeing another human and relating to him or her, relationship building and loyalty become more difficult. Emotionally intelligent organizations are able to develop strategies that enhance rather than erode loyalty through their encouragement of relationship building, empathic validation and social responsibility.

Even innovative ways of conceptualizing the organization - such as Mintzberg and Van der Heyden's organigraphs (see article on page 24) - are not incompatible with Emotional Intelligence. The organigraph illustrates how sets, chains, hubs and webs are related to one another. As Mintzberg and Van der Heyden note, "Organigraphs have less to do with names and titles than with relationships and processes." And relationships do not develop without the competencies to be empathic, to behave assertively and to be socially responsible. "Managers have to be everywhere, out from behind their desks - in design studios, in airplanes, on the way to offices and clients, and other places where real work happens." Mintzberg and Van der Heyden confirm the value of the relationship-building skills that Kotter wrote about 20 years ago in his classic HBR article, "What effective general managers really do." This behaviour has more to do with El than with technical ability or industry knowledge. And as such it is more closely li nked to success for the organization and the people it employs.
 
Re: WORST CASE SOME ONE!!!

CAN there be thought before we have language, or does language define the way we think?

Many researchers believe that language dictates particular ways of thinking about the world, partly because concepts expressed in one language may not exist in another. But a study of infants has come up with a different explanation.

Psychologists Susan Hespos from Vanderbilt University in Nashville, Tennessee, and Elizabeth Spelke from Harvard University have found that babies brought up in an English-speaking environment can clearly understand a concept that is not expressed in English. This shows that while language may emphasise certain ways of thinking, the ability to think conceptually does not depend on learning a particular language.

The researchers considered a much-studied concept that is clearly defined in Korean, but not in English: whether one object fits tightly or Ioosely with another. In Korean, people use a different verb to describe placing something such as a shoe in a small box in which it fits tightly, or in a large box, where it is a loose fit. The team wanted to know whether the concept develops only as a result of learning Korean.

English-speaking adults didn't divide tight-fitting or loose-fitting displays into two clear groups, as Korean speakers would--and as English speakers do easily for the more familiar linguistic concept of "in" versus "on".

But five-month-old infants brought up in an English-speaking environment did seem to recognise the two distinct categories. The researchers probed the babies' thoughts by measuring how quickly they got bored with looking at successive pairs of objects grouped in either a tight-fitting or loose-fitting way. If the infants saw the second setup as being the same as the first, they got bored almost immediately. If they saw the second grouping as novel, the display recaptured their attention.

The researchers showed that the infants did indeed seem to consider two pairs of objects from the same conceptual category as more alike than pairs from different categories (Nature, vol 430, p 453).

"Some people suggest that babies don't have full-blown concepts, that they wait until language imposes categories on them," Hespos says. "But we specifically took a linguistic concept, and find that it does exist before language." While she has no doubt that language influences how we think, she says it seems to draw attention to certain relationships between objects that we already understand, rather than shaping new ways of thinking about objects.

"There is a huge debate now about the role that language plays in the formation of concepts," says Paul Bloom, a psychologist from Yale University. "This study backs the idea that what language does is allow us to communicate about concepts that we already have. It's not primarily a way to create new concepts."
 
Re: WORST CASE SOME ONE!!!

Succeeding in life requires having
a well thought out strategy.

"Positive thinking and having the belief that you can
succeed is a powerful strategy on its own,"
That's why it is vital to recognise the psyche of a winner,
as well as know the things one can do to become a positive thinker.

Why it helps

Your attitude is more important than your aptitude
in determining your success in life! Just how critical
is it to achievement?
Well, take the example of one of the greatest inventors -

Thomas Edison.
Edison tried 10,000 times to get his light bulb invention to work,
but failed each time. However, h
e had this to say about his lack of success.
"I have not failed.
I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work."

There is another old story about a big shoe company
that wanted to expand its sales into Africa.
It sent one salesman to East Africa and a second to West Africa.
The first salesman reported back,
"Forget doing business here, no one wears shoes."

The second salesman reported back,
"This is a great place to do business, no one wears shoes."
These two salesmen were exposed to the same situation
and both of them responded differently.
Their responses were based on what they already thought
and believed about themselves and their abilities.

Positive change

"We all have negative thoughts from time to time,
but it's possible to turn your negative thoughts into positive ones,"
Follow these simple guidelines to become a positive person.

• Identify your negative thoughts.
"Consider your excuses for the last idea you rejected,"
Maybe you thought about asking for a new assignment
at work but didn't ask for it because you've never
done anything like it before or didn't know
if you could handle the extra workload.

• Determine whether the excuses are valid.
Are there really obstacles that could block you from
achieving your goals,
or just excuses based on fear or procrastination?

• Examine your fears.
"Maybe your fears are trying to tell you that you are
going down the wrong path. Instead of ignoring
your fears, analyse them,"

• Engage in positive "self-talk".
"Self-talk refers to the endless stream of
thoughts that run through your head every day.

If you weed out misconceptions and irrational thinking
and challenge them with rational, positive thoughts,
your self-talk will slowly become realistic and self-affirming
and you will start becoming an optimist,"

• Focus on what you are good at and don't kill yourself on the rest
. "For example, if you are not good at computers,
focus instead on what you do have to offer to your team,
such as excellent speaking skills and a great client record,"

• Surround yourself with positives: positive friends,
upbeat music, happy thoughts, and your favourite memories.
Call your friends every once in a
while and get together to have fun.

• Nobody's perfect.
"Remember that failing is okay too, as long as you
can pick yourself back up and learn from the experience,"

• Think of ways to overcome your obstacles.
"Supposing you don't have the experience to take on a project.
Maybe you could share the project with someone who does,
so that you could 'learn the ropes',"

• Try again.
"Approach the situation which was bothering you once again,
and try to tackle it with a renewed positive mind-set this time,"

Life is what you make it out to be. If you are plagued
with persistent negative thoughts towards life,
try to replace this mindset with a new positive one.

Having positive thoughts will improve your quality of life and work,
so it is essential that you start thinking in a positive manner right away.
And this,
in fact,
is easier done than said!
 
Re: WORST CASE SOME ONE!!!

At Excel Industries in Mumbai, India, every working day begins with the company's all-religion prayer. At lunch, each member of staff, from the lowliest recruit to the executive chairman, gathers to eat the same meal at the same time in the same place (which is more than most British families, let alone workplaces, can achieve). The company practises 'spiritual values', and 'love and trust' are key components of its leadership ethos. Excel's approach is all the more surprising in that this is no dewy-eyed start-up, but an industry leader in the manufacture of biochemicals and agro-chemicals, which has been in business nearly 65 years and today employs 1,200 people.

Another hugely successful Indian company, SREI International Finance, has a temple area in the main office, altar spaces for work teams and begins meetings with silent prayers. Job candidates are interviewed to determine if their spiritual values are aligned with those of the organisation. There are spiritual quotations in each employee's day planner, in the elevators and every team meeting room.

Both these companies are past recipients of the US-based International Spirit at Work Awards, created to honour companies that have 'explicit spiritual practices, policies or programmes'. The driving force behind the awards is the Association for Spirit at Work, which provides information on this area through its website, conferences and other resources. The Awards are co-run by World Business Academy, the European Baha'i Business Forum and Spirit In Business.

Elisa Mallis, the Awards Committee Chair, says they look for companies that are 'nurturing the human spirit and are also very successful - increasing profitability and showing solid, positive direction in terms of growth'.

'Spiritual principles aren't necessarily religious ones,' says Judi Neal, founder and executive director of the Association for Spirit at Work. 'But we look for concrete evidence that all religious traditions are accepted, and that people with no religious tradition or faith at all are also accepted.

Most companies honoured since the Awards' inception four years ago are American, in particular healthcare companies. The list also includes a smattering of banks and manufacturing companies, and some from outside the States. With a total of four awards, India fares better than most. Excel's executive chairman Sri G Narayana explains this is because spirituality is not just a concept in India but a day-to-day reality. 'We practise spiritual values of togetherness, tolerance, mutual acceptance and belief in divine spirit. Because to serve man is to serve God,' he says, adding that this is not only true of Hindus but all Indians.

But, as the Spirit at Work Awards show, even in the more secularised and cynical West, many organisations are beginning to introduce spiritual values into the workplace. Certainly in the US, spirit at work is a 'movement of some significance,' say Sue Howard and David Welbourn, the British authors of The Spirit at Work Phenomenon. As well as dedicated networks like Judi Neal's Spirit at Work, there are innumerable websites, several journals and hundreds of books. The movement has also spawned many consultants, surveys and much scholarly interest, including courses on spirituality at business schools.

'Americans are more open to new ideas and this is pioneering work,' says Georgeanne Lamont, British author of The Spirited Business and managing director of organisational development company, Lamont Associates.

British universities were also among the early adopters of spirit at work, with the University of Lancaster running a conference entitled 'Working with Spirituality in Organisations' in 1991. More recently, the University of Surrey has run an 'International Conference on Organisational Spirituality' and offers a course on spirituality.

Though it's taken a while, the interest in applying spiritual values to the workplace appears to be moving beyond academia in the UK.

Winning over cynics

'I'm coming across more organisations who seem to be taking some aspects of this notion more seriously,' says Linda Holbeche, director of research and strategy at The Roffey Park Institute in Sussex. 'But things that have a sort of new agey feel or may have religious overtones, are a bit less acceptable over here.'

Holbeche is author, with colleague Nigel Springett, of the report, In Search of Meaning at Work. This brings together the results from analysis of Roffey's 2003 and 2004 Management Agenda surveys, focus group research, a further survey - Quest for Meaning at Work - and a literature study.

The topic arose from a variety of seemingly unrelated responses to Roffey's Management Agenda surveys since 2000. 'We noticed a very strong undercurrent of comment we didn't know how to group, of the type "there's something missing",' says Holbeche. 'We called the project to look into this sense of loss "Spirituality in the workplace".

However, Holbeche changed the project's name to 'Meaning in the workplace' because the 'spirituality' word was found to be an obstacle for many people - a point illustrated by Holbeche's own experience with the focus groups. The colleague who labelled the doors wasn't told of the name change. When the 150 or so participants, from the hundreds who responded, turned up to attend their focus groups, many exclaimed on seeing the doors labelled 'Spirituality in the workplace' that they wouldn't have come 'if I'd known it was going to be about that'.

Howard and Welbourn agree that the 'spirituality' word can be a turn-off. 'It's a risky topic to raise and discuss within the organisational setting.... It's considered fluffy or wishy-washy by much of the business community.'

They say instead that specific values of 'trust, integrity, authenticity and care of fellow employees' are more likely to attract a sceptical manager's attention.'

Indeed, if there's one thing that most participants in this area agree on it is that spirituality is difficult to define. 'There are almost as many definitions of spirituality as there are people writing about it,' say Howard and Welbourn. But they mirror the feelings of many when they say spirituality 'helps us to determine who we are and how to live our lives in this world. It combines our basic philosophy towards life, our vision and our values, with our conduct and practices.'

In the workplace, this is often translated as bringing our 'whole selves' to work and working for an organisation whose values and purposes are aligned with our own. It's about knowing what's important to us and incorporating it into our working lives. And it's also about recognising that we don't lead our lives in isolation and building worthwhile relationships with others.

For a few, this is tied up with religious faith - being allowed time to worship or having access to company chaplains - but for most, says Holbeche, it means having the chance to 'feed the human spirit through the intrinsic worth of the work they're doing'.

'Things like very good, open problem-solving approaches to dealing with office politics, or good team building, or the organisation thinking fundamentally about its values and purpose and really trying to shift its leaders' behaviour, in particular, to be more true to these,' she says. Seventy percent of the respondents to the report are looking for more meaning at work, with 42% currently looking for other employment.

There are several explanations for this workplace malaise. There is much cynicism over employers' hollow ethical policies and growing criticism that companies just exist to make profit for their shareholders. Issues such as 'fat cat' pay, unreliable pensions and financial scandals, like Enron and Worldcom, are causing employees to doubt the purpose of their organisations and integrity of their leaders.

Finding a balance

Globalisation and increased competition are putting businesses under pressure to be super-efficient, leading to cost-cutting, redundancies, downsizing, greater workloads and job insecurity. Eighty three percent of respondents to the Roffey report are working longer hours than contracted and 57% have had an increased workload in the last year.

'People feel increasingly disconnected at work,' says Holbeche. 'They're under pressure to be busy, perform and produce results. They sense a void and want a space where they can 'be' rather than 'do' all the time.'

Also, as traditional communities fragment, the workplace has become for many their main social network. But people want to belong to a community where they can make a meaningful contribution, helping to build a better world, and not just make money.

But all is not lost. Some organisations are reversing this unhappy trend by integrating spiritual tools and practices into their business, with great success. Among the many benefits, they're seeing increased morale and employee retention; a more engaged, energised and, therefore, productive workforce; reduced stress; lower absenteeism; and improved customer satisfaction. For many, this is translating into better financial performance.

Broadway Tyres, for example, briefed Lamont Associates to take a workforce with 30% absenteeism through a rapid expansion programme while keeping the family feel and buzz of the company, and simultaneously boosting profitability. By incorporating Lamont's spirit-based training and tools, Broadway achieved rapid expansion with a 42% increase in sales and 60% increase in profit within a year. And within just three months absenteeism was negligible. 'Our staff now treat each other with more respect and patience,' says Guy Beck, Broadway Tyres' general manager. 'Lines of communication are conducted openly and productively. Long-standing habits are being questioned and changed. Our staff are happier and more fulfilled.'

'There are many spiritual tools to help human beings make sense of their experience, reflect on it and integrate it into their lives,' says Georgeanne Lamont. 'They are tools that have been used over millennia by all cultures and that have a place in companies.'

'Celebration', for example, encourages employees to 'enjoy, be thankful, have fun' whatever the situation. Happy Computers is one of the UK's largest IT training companies, having doubled in size every three years and won a string of awards for customer service. Recently, the company remained true to its 'no-blame' culture when an employee inadvertently wiped out the company's entire accounts file. Her boss 'celebrated' the mistake and the company learnt to build security into the system.

'What the business wants to achieve in terms of business results and growth can be delivered though this very human-centred approach,' says Lamont. 'Just as we had new technology in the nineteenth century for mining down to remove coal, we now have new technology to mine down and tap into the very finest efforts of every human being, not to exploit them but to release them so they can contribute more at work.'

The spirit at work commentators agree that this approach has to be leadership driven, and that leaders have to have a real commitment to values and putting them in place. 'Spiritual leaders challenge taken-for-granted opinions and ideas but they want to work in a way that develops both themselves and those around them positively,' say Howard and Welbourn. 'They seek to build a shared understanding of vision, meaning and values. They use their influence and power to support others' growth.

Leaders like Roger Gundry of IMG, a highly successful building materials manufacturer, who acknowledges that the most important thing in people's lives is their family and not the business. Gundry builds his business on values such as honesty, forgiveness, tolerance, patience and kindness, which employees actively use in daily work situations. 'They are constantly looking at how they can do better using the values as a key,' says Lamont. 'They are doing this not because someone is making them... but because, in the process, they get to be the best they can that day, and that is what they enjoy.'

Spirit of success

This approach challenges IMG's staff to grow, continuously develop, and meet higher standards and financial targets. A key driver, says Lamont, is respect for their MD, who openly practises these values himself. 'They know they are in an environment where their best will be welcomed and recognised.'

'Spirit at work' clearly means different things to different people. It can be religion-based for those whose faith is a driving force in their lives. But for most it's about having a meaningful working life, where their values are aligned with their company's and they feel they're making a difference.

'Spirit isn't a Pollyanna-style panacea for all organisational woes,' say Howard and Welbourn. 'What it offers is a perspective to help us discern wisely and deal with our work lives, particularly in the face of current business realities.'

Spirited companies

A growing number of organisations, such as the Defence Science Technology Laboratory, are employing the services of a chaplain for employee counselling.

Staff at all levels at the Honda car company take part in communal physical exercises at the start of each day, to connect them and focus them collectively on the day ahead.

Asda sets great value on communication and has ritualised 'huddles' to bring staff together for team briefings.

Many companies incorporate volunteering as a means of contributing to the local community: IBM has a 'Days of caring' programme, and The Body Shop encourages employees throughout the world to volunteer their time in local action.

At Australia and New Zealand Banking Group (ANZ), their Breakout and cultural transformation programmes have led to dramatic improvement in employee satisfaction. Breakout incorporates a high-performance mind technique and several ANZ buildings have quiet rooms for people to practise this.

Eileen Fisher, a New York women's fashion company, allots each employee $1,000 a year to nurture themselves - popular uses include massages, yoga, nutritionists and gym memberships.
Medtronic, one of the world's leading medical technology companies, has an annual 'Holiday Party', attended by 1,600 employees and viewed by thousands more on closed circuit tv and video, where at least six former patients are invited to tell their stories about how the company's products and services changed their lives for the better.
At Shell, directors receive lectures from Buddhist monks, to align their priorities beyond the work part of working life.
Telus Mobility, a Canadian wireless solutions provider with over 5,000 members, conducts 'Transformation Workshops' for call centre employees with the focus on personal development. It also has an active Wellness Centre that conducts courses for integrating body-mind-spirit, including yoga, meditation and tai chi. Its turnover rate is less than 2%.
 
Re: WORST CASE SOME ONE!!!

Examples of brainstorming

The classic approaches to brainstorming include:

Writing a list of things and then numbering them to put them in groups or give them a priority
Creating a map or ‘spidergram’ of items so that you can see how they relate to each other in non-linear ways
Putting each item on a separate Post-It note and then organising them into groups that seem logical to you
Creating a matrix or graph that will group the items for you
Speaking things into a tape recorder as they occur to you
 
Re: WORST CASE SOME ONE!!!

IMplementing the new community care legislation presents a daunting challenge to managers in both health and local authorities. Their agendas are already full, focused on other substantive changes. Health service managers are tackling the consequences of the separation between commissioners and providers of hospital services, family health services authorities are only just beginning to establish a clear management role, and social services managers are preoccupied with the heavy demands of the Children Act 1989 and Criminal Justice Act 1991.

The community care legislation requires authorities to rethink fundamentally their approach to planning: to shift decisions about the provision of services from those providing them to those using them and their carers. Readjustments are needed at every level, from authority members down to operational service providers, and furthermore, authorities must collaborate in planning and delivering services. All this would tax the ingenuity of most managers, and, unsurprisingly, only minimal progress has been made in most districts to weld authorities together across the public sector divide.

The Audit Commission's new report, Community Care: Managing the Cascade of Change, sets out the mechanisms that might promote collaboration between agencies.[1] Of the high quality that we have come to expect of the commission, the report focuses on how these new arrangements might be set up. What is being demanded is the broaching of the solid wall that divides health from social services - not just at the level of senior management, which characterised the old joint planning system, but at all levels of the service. This would promote joint assessments of people's needs, joint planning of services at an operational level, coordination of the use of skilled and unskilled staff, and a unified strategic plan for using resources for health and social care in the community.

The Audit Commission's report is the first from a government agency to acknowledge that the new system will not necessarily be better than the old without the collaboration of the statutory agencies. "Any continuing failure of health and social authorities to work together will make more radical solutions increasingly unavoidable in the future," states the report. "If authorities wish to avoid further upheavals (as most do) the onus is on them to make the present arrangements work through active cooperation."

Just so; but how? The commission points to some successful examples of structural unification of local health and social services authorities in Norway, a federally funded project with similar aims in Arizona, and promising developments in Northern Ireland, where a single health and social services authority already exists. Currently in the rest of the United Kingdom consortium planning arrangements, in which budgets are pooled and true joint commissioning of care is planned, are in their infancy and confined to specific care group - for example, people with learning disabilities or people who use mental health services. These have been restricted to those few authorities where trust has been established between agencies. The problems of creating a joint finance pool and satisfactory system of financial accountability for using pooled budgets cannot be overstated. The creation of joint information systems has proved equally difficult.

Sadly, most authorities are nowhere near even considering such initiatives but are choosing instead to muddle along, collaborating to the minimum extent they find necessary. Doctors in acute hospitals have not yet understood the potentially disastrous consequences of this dilatory approach for their beds come next April. From that date no person requiring a publicly funded place in a residential or nursing home will move out of a hospital bed except by the decision of the local authority. Planning discharges is therefore likely to be the stick that drives health authorities and trusts to the planning table. Recognising this, the Audit Commission has chosen this as one of two topics to focus on in its auditing of collaborative arrangements between authorities. The other topic is the replacement of long stay hospitals for people with learning disabilities.

The commission's emphasis on monitoring interagency working should be warmly welcomed. Never before has an agency been charged specifically with this task, and as a result little has changed over the years. The commission's involvement should bring a considerable improvement in the planning of community care.
 
Re: WORST CASE SOME ONE!!!

Before writing, you need to put yourself in the shoes of the person who will be reading your writing. What is the particular problem, issue or idea? What does the recipient need to know?
Some common business situations and basic information required by the reader:

Conveying information

What’s this about?
What does it mean to me?
What are the details?
Which parts are most important?
What am I supposed to do about it?
How do I start?
What’s the bottom line?

Instructing a colleague

Why is this important?
What has to be done?
What’s the time frame?
How will progress be measured?
What help will I get?
Will I be recognised for doing a good job?

Making a recommendation

What’s the topic?
What do you recommend?
On what do you base your recommendations?
How strongly do you feel about it?
Do you want reactions from me?
What’s the next step?

Persuading someone who is leaning the other way

Why should I listen to your argument?
Do you understand my position?
What’s in this for you?
What are the elements of your case?
What happens if I accept your argument?

Selling an idea

What is the problem to be solved?
What is the opportunity if the problem is solved?
What is the idea?
Why do you think it will work?
Has it been tried elsewhere?
Why is your idea the best possible action?
Who else endorses your idea?

Conveying disagreement

What’s the subject?
What do you disagree with, and to what extent?
Why?
What do you think will happen if you are not heeded?
What is the evidence to support your position?
What alternatives do you suggest?

Fixing a problem

What is the problem?
How serious is it?
How do you support and document it?
What should I do to make things better?
Are you available for discussion?
What help will you provide?
What goals would you establish?
What’s the next step?
 
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