Robert Locke and J-C Spender – Confronting Managerialism

Confronting Managerialism: How The Business Elite & Their Schools Threw Our Lives Out of Balance

Robert R. Locke and J-C Spender, Confronting Managerialism: How The Business Elite & Their Schools Threw Our Lives Out of Balance (Zed Books, 2011)


Robert Locke and J-C Spender have written a rather excellent book focusing on the history of what they call “managerialism” (a term they adapt from Alfred Vagts‘ concept of “militarism”) in the United States.  Their specific formulation of the concept of “managerialism” is quoted from an earlier article by Locke; it is:

“What occurs when a special group, called management, ensconces itself systematically in an organization and deprives owners and employees of their decision-making power (including distribution of emoluments) — and justifies that takeover on the grounds of the managing group’s education and exclusive possession of codified bodies of knowledge and know-how necessary to the efficient running of the organization.”

Much of the book consists of comparisons of businesses and schools in the United States (plus the UK), Japan and Germany.  What they conclude is that the ideology of short-term, predatory financial gain without regard for a firm or economy as a whole that predominates in the United States is not as prevalent in Japan or Germany.  They find better outcomes, in terms of factors like firm longevity and well-being of workers, outside the United States.  Their strength is a very even-handed tone, backed by ample research.  The cover of the book and the series title “economic controversies” perhaps make this seem like a harsh screed or a sensationalist tract.  No doubt, this is polemic to a point, but the authors largely let history speak for itself, and spend most of their effort pulling together data that tends to be ignored or concealed by business schools.  Nothing about that approach is inflammatory, and their conclusions are extremely moderate (nowhere do the authors suggest abandoning capitalism, for instance).  Ultimately, their conclusion is that business schools in the United States, which don’t exist in the same form elsewhere in the world, have an overall negative effect on business and society, and they think management in U.S. companies should be more inclusive of people with backgrounds in production.  Although they don’t spend many pages advocating any particular system of business management, other than to try to discredit the application of neoliberalism, one detects sympathies for the kinds of Rhineland capitalism of Germany (as Locke has written about elsewhere) or the W. Edwards Deming-inspired, engineering-led “total quality” management approaches of Japan.  They see those other countries as providing better “balance” between competing interests of managers, owners and employees than in the United States.  For that matter, they see the software and computer companies of Silicon Valley in the United States outperforming East Coast businesses.

The book’s rather direct treatment of morality and ethics, as a symptom of business school ideologies, is welcomed.  There is a fairly frank discussion of how much of contemporary business practice has to do with power — who has it and who doesn’t.  Management in the United States acts as a caste that posits they have valuable but still generic “management” skills that uniquely position them to hold a disproportionate amount of power, to the exclusion of workers, etc.  The authors contrast Japan, where management tends to rise through the ranks and have a greater understanding of substantive operations across entire companies.  They carry this analysis over to the ways in which business schools operate, and note how academic “prestige” is a rather direct counterpart to the more purely economic power of businesspeople.  The authors also delineate how religious practices contrast sharply with the types of amoral, ethics-free neoclassical economics adopted by modern American business schools.  They provide intriguing evidence of how religion in America has shifted from ones that emphasized social responsibility and charity to ones (often located in suburbs) with an egotistical focus on the salvation of believers. They also mention the reintroduction of Confucianism to Chinese state capitalism, and resistance of Islamic economics to neoclassical economics.  It is somewhat unclear whether the authors believe religion, either generally or in specific forms, is a countervailing force that can push back against business in a pragmatic sense, or if it even should — more interesting questions since the Catholic Pope Francis started speaking out against unfettered capitalism and inequality in 2013.  This is somewhat of a loose end in the book.

The comparisons being limited to Japan and Germany naturally provides only a limited range of data.  We get nothing from Spain, Brazil, India, Canada, or France, for instance.  It would be informative to take Locke and Spender’s analysis and apply it to other countries, to see how they compare.

As is common with writing of this sort, there are some recommendations at the end.  And as usual, it is possible to accept all the detailed analysis of historical parameters without necessarily accepting the policy recommendations.  Still, Locke and Spender suggest reforms of corporate management structures into discrete supervisory and management levels that require employee participation (as in Germany) and that prevent control of both levels by a single CEO.  They make an intriguing argument there, noting that business schools and business leaders would absolutely fight these things because they would diminish their power.  Yet they also present a compelling basis for why so many other groups, like ordinary workers and absentee shareholders, have aligned interests that might provide a path around the business school trained managers.  Still, in the last few pages they make statements about how no one today is advocating for centrally planned economies.  Really?  (though perhaps this depends on what you interpret “central planning” to mean).  Contemporary evidence from Venezuela, Bolivia, Cuba, even Egypt and Occupy Wall Street might suggest otherwise.  Even just within Germany, a recent poll found that a majority of residents of the former East Germany would prefer to return to communism.  A major publisher also released a book about imagining living in a socialist USA.  While Locke and Spender advocate for flatter, more equal management structures than predominate today in the USA (Spender co-wrote a later book, Strategic Conversations, along those lines), there is a curious lack of evidence as to whether Germany and Japan present any sort of optimal balance in that regard.  The German school system may be better than the United States, but could Germany do even better?  What would a comparison to the worker-owned cooperative Mondragon in Spain add to the discussion, when it potentially has an even flatter organizational structure than is typically found in Germany and Japan? Do the sorts of German employee participation is supervisory roles resemble the kinds used in the former Yugoslavia, which arguably pitted workers against each other? Hasn’t the German works council and co-determination model been exposed as something of an illusion, using Volkswagen as an example?  Or perhaps take this critique:

“Today, the two superpowers, the USA and China, relate more as Capital and Labour.  the USA is turning into a country of managerial planning, banking, services, and so on, while its ‘disappearing working class’ (except for migrant Chicanos and others who work predominantly in the service economy) is reappearing in China, where the majority of US products, from toys to electronic hardware, are manufactured in ideal conditions for capitalist exploitation: no strikes, limited freedom of movement for the workforce, low wages. . . . Far from being simply antagonistic, the relationship between China and the USA is, at the same time, deeply symbiotic.  The irony of history is that China fully deserves the title ‘workers’ state’; it is the state of the working class for American capital.”

The authors don’t really get into the modern practice of using outsourcing to shed responsibility, inscribing discrimination, exploitation and an imbalance of power into the mere existence (but precisely not the explicit terms) of contracting agreements across national borders.

These questions would require a much lengthier book.  It is, however, fair to raise these concerns because the subtitle of this book posits that managerialism “threw our lives out of balance.”  This implies that our lives used to be in balance, or at least that the authors know what a proper balance would look like.  It also raises the question of whether, say, Chinese and East Asian laborers are part of this “us” (“our”).  The pseudo-global perspective of the book does come up a bit short there, fitting the theoretical frame to the author’s geographically-constrained background knowledge — like a tailor fitting a suit to the available cloth regardless of whether the suit fits the wearer.  But, on the other hand, contrary to the book’s provocative subtitle and cover image, the book sets its sights on something rather more specific: proving that — contrary to its claims — U.S. business school managerialism is not optimal on its own terms (they don’t try to quantify how sub-optimal it is).

Suffice it to say, Locke and Spender present convincing evidence that the current organization of business management and business schools in the United States is not optimal.  The current system benefits only management and its academic cohorts.  They obliterate the notion that the system of business management used in the United States is inevitable, or that there is no alternative (TINA).  The authors’ exposition of the issue is as clear as can be hoped, in an area in which obfuscation too often dominates.  Most importantly, they draw out the question of power that is routinely (and, for some, conveniently) ignored in the business world.  They also provide more extensive historical research than most commentators in this area who have drawn similar conclusions.

Further reading: Edward S. Herman, Corporate Control, Corporate Power; Adolph Berle & Gardiner Means, The Modern Corporation and Private Property; James Burnham, The Managerial Revolution (this book earlier coined the phrase “managerialism”); Willard Enteman, Managerialism; Alfred Chandler, Jr., The Visible Hand; Matthew Stewart, The Management Myth; V.I. Lenin, Imperialism: The Highest Form of Capitalism

Julius Hemphill – Dogon A.D.

Dogon A.D.

Julius HemphillDogon A.D. Mbari MPC 501 (1972)


Although lots of narratives about jazz history ignore the Midwestern United States, Julius Hemphill and crew came along in the early 1970s in St. Louis, along with the AACM organization in Chicago, and made a case for the region’s relevance and importance.  This is an amazing debut, released on Hemphill’s own M-Bari record label.  The most distinctive feature is Abdul Wadud bowing and strumming his cello to a regular beat, which is matched against R&B tinged avant garde jazz soloing from the wind players.  This music comes from a very different place than a lot of other jazz of the era, because it doesn’t seem to take the same sources of inspiration as artists operating on either coast.  In forty years this hasn’t aged a day.

Meet Me in St. Louis

Meet Me in St. Louis

Meet Me in St. Louis (1944)

MGM

Director: Vincente Minnelli

Main Cast: Judy Garland, Margaret O’Brien, Tom Drake


Probably the scariest movie I’ve ever seen. The plot revolves around a family so fearful of any and all changes from their preconceived notions of life in America (without the family ever questioning those preconceived notions) that they are literally doomed to live in the aftermath of the past. Horrifying. A good movie.

Tiny Tim With Brave Combo – Girl

Girl

Tiny Tim With Brave ComboGirl Rounder 9050 (1996)


Well, this album has finally given me the idea of the proper time to yell out, “Play ‘Stairway to Heaven!'”  Dinner theater.  I have one Robert Goulet album, a live one, and he takes the time between songs to mention that the next number is one he sang on Broadway, and how he’s going to do a song that’s about love, and he somehow conveys — on vinyl — the way he’s leaning down to suggestively hold the hand of some swooning woman in the audience.  Tiny Tim plays “Stairway” the way Goulet would have, but that’s not enough, so there is a vocal chorus reminiscent of The 5th Dimension‘s “Age of Aquarius” for good measure.  Oh, then Tiny Tim does a cha-cha-cha version of “Hey Jude” and you wonder why you didn’t sing it that way along with the similar pre-programmed beat from your late 1980s Casio synthesizer.  Tiny Tim’s voice isn’t the ridiculous falsetto you remember, but deepened to something more like Bobby “Boris” Pickett of “Monster Mash” fame, with a lot more fantastically odd vibrato.  He’s swooping from rock era hits to forgotten vaudeville numbers to old show tunes, and more.  Tiny Tim could be kidding and completely serious at the same time.  Yes, god bless Tiny Tim. Head for a Neil Hamburger record next.

The Dirtbombs – Ultraglide in Black

Ultraglide in Black

The DirtbombsUltraglide in Black In the Red ITR-079 (2001)


Pretty good album of garage-rock-oriented soul covers.  It makes for good party music.  Mick Collins has a good voice for this stuff, even he is a bit rough around the edges.  Highlights are “Your Love Belongs Under a Rock,” “Ode to a Black Man,” “Got to Give It Up,” and “Do You See My Love.”  It’s kind of funny that the song “Kung Fu” opens with a nod to Bauhaus‘ “Bela Lugosi’s Dead”.  These guys kick the crap out of some similar but lame bands like The Detroit Cobras.  Try this if you’re into garage rock from Oblivians, The Gories, Reigning Sound, etc.

Dinosaur Jr. – Farm

Farm

Dinosaur Jr.Farm Jagjaguwar JAG150 (2009)


When Beyond reunited the original MascisBarlowMurph Dino Jr. lineup, it was jolt of the best sort of rock energy.  Here were guys well past the usual cut-off for the young person’s rock game pulling off something that hardly seemed to lose a step from an era twenty years prior.  They still were the same screw-ups singing songs that endearingly begged, “please like me,” and “please be my friend.”

Farm takes a turn in a different direction though.  This is a more conventional indie rock album.  The hallmark warbles and fuzzy guitar solos of J. Mascis are held in check within a wall of sound.  Lou Barlow’s bass is unusually prominent.  One song blends into the next, and by the end of the album it’s hard to remember anything about it.  This is the album for people who never liked Dinosaur Jr. to begin with, but want a competent, if rather faceless, guitar rock album to add to the pile of others.  But it is a rather competent faceless guitar album!  The opener, “Pieces,” is the best thing here, though it comes up short of the most memorable of the group’s songs.  Don’t fret though.  The follow-up I Bet on Sky turned things around in a more promising direction, and Mascis’ guitar thundered back to the forefront.

Sharon Van Etten – Are We There

Are We There

Sharon Van EttenAre We There Jagjaguwar JAG255 (2014)


Sharon Van Etten operates mostly in the tradition of singer-songwriters from the 1970s, with vocals a little more breathy and quaking in the style of contemporary indie rock.  Almost all of Are We There is a look at the sadder, more difficult parts of relationships–bad ones mostly.  Where she shines, though, is incorporating a rhythm box and primitive keyboards.  She takes what could be sad sack, mopey music and enlivens it with a patina of making more than expected from sort of stock elements.

One of the best songs is “Our Love.”  Against a slow, monotonous, almost drone-line synthesizer (which could almost pass for “Kip Waits” on the Napoleon Dynamite soundtrack) and a lithe, slick guitar note bent slowly, she sings again and again, “It’s our love” with a faint, warbling voice.  The tension from the juxtaposition of those elements are what make the song.  The lyrics, which are minimal, suggest an abusive relationship. The keyboards suggest monotony.  The heavy vibrato on the vocals suggests tortured emotion.  Yet, the song doesn’t get around to pondering an end or escape.  Instead, it wonders, “Still don’t know what I have found,” then repeating, “In our love.”  It ends repeating the line, “It’s all love.”  What makes the song something other than than a meek submission to abuse is that it ponders, without knowing, what the good parts are mixed in with the bad.  Repeating the same lyrics so many times, with little flourishes of percussion, and slowly changing guitar riffs, subtly makes the point that there is more to the story than what the words explicitly say, and that there is a need to find our own deeper meaning.  That takes an effort.  But the song is fundamentally about making that effort.  It isn’t a cheery song, and maybe the deeper meaning is that what the song conveys was never really “love”.

“Break Me” continues the theme of an abusive relationship.  This is one of the bleaker tunes on the album.  Powerlessness and dependency are recalled with a forceful touch of frustration, and perhaps even bewilderment.  What makes the song listenable, is that it looks at the situation being described in repose, as something already conquered.  Those synthesizers are back, with an ascending two-chord pattern repeating, with a slight addition of another note, then resolving with a middle chord and a higher one.  These ostinato passages clash with washes of cymbal and a drum beat, probably a snare, processed with gated reverb (a kind of echo that doesn’t fully resolve; frequently used in heavy metal records of the late 1980s).

“Tarifa” adds horns.  There is a hint of R&B flavor, and a huskiness to Van Etten’s voice.  Just like a lot of the songs, the theme is again the uncertainty of knowing whether a situation is right: “Tell me when / Tell me when is this over? / Chewed you out / Chew me out when I’m stupid / I don’t wanna / Everyone else pales / Send in the owl / Tell me I’m not a child.”  Unlike “Our Love,” this song tells of someone trying to find confidence, which is to say to connect inner, subjective feeling to some kind of external validation.

It might have helped to have something on the album other than hard looks at romantic relationships.  It fades to black a bit too much for its own good.  The sense of deliberateness, the sort on the percussive chords bashed out repeatedly on the piano on “Your Love is Killing Me” typify it, give this weight but also weigh it down.  There also is too much reliance on the sorts of affected vocalizations that litter indie rock recordings of the day (Josephine Foster comes to mind as a comparison point), and even the kind of aching cries (“You Know Me Well”) that Bono trades in regularly.   Are We There is still better than much in its milieu.  Hopefully Van Etten has more and better things to come.

Joni Mitchell – Blue

Blue

Joni MitchellBlue Reprise MS 2038 (1971)


Blue tends to be cited as one of Joni Mitchell’s best albums, if not her very best.  This is difficult to understand.  She has better albums: Ladies of the Canyon, Court and Spark, The Hissing of Summer Lawns.  Her vocals are a little shrill here too.  That’s not to say that this is a bad album, by no means, but in a larger context it falls short.  What is interesting is how the songwriting makes Blue sort of emblematic of the failures of the post-1968 hippie culture.  With introspection providing almost hermetic boundaries, the endless navel-gazing wallows in newly-permitted formal freedoms to “live your own life” without really challenging structural constraints or, more to the point, the people who set the ground rules and contours of those permitted freedoms.  In other words, this sets up the failure to truly have self-determination and re-make the world in a new way.  There is an element of settling for positive but (relatively) small concessions that in the long term further dependence on the forces of misery granting those concessions.  The problem, of course, is that none of this is recognized in Mitchell’s songs.  They have a satisfaction that implies the job is done and all there is left is to get on with life outside of the problems others create.  But it doesn’t work that way.  Maybe Mitchell’s true self is paradoxically creating and participating in the situations and relationships she (rightly) sees as unfulfilling and hurtful?  It’s the same troubling short-sightedness that plagues things like Jack Kerouac books — Dharma Bums especially.  So you “get away.”  Then what?  You might say this confuses the starting line with the finish line.

Five Minutes With Colin Crouch

Link to an interview with Colin Crouch:

“Five minutes with Colin Crouch: ‘A post-democratic society is one that continues to have and to use all the institutions of democracy, but in which they increasingly become a formal shell'”

Four a counterpoint, asserting that there was always only oligarchy and not democracy, see: Paul Le Blanc, “What Do Socialists Say About Democracy?”