Managers As Moral Subjects Decision Making
Managers As Moral Subjects Decision Making
Abstract
Introduction
Management and organization theory has long been driven by a dominant and ego-
centred conception of rationality. Inspired by the transliteration of a Cartesian logic
(Descartes, 1954) from the thinking subject (I think, therefore I am) to the acting
organization (It thinks, plans, does and reviews, therefore it is) there is a taken for
granted assumption of ‘the organization as super-person, as a single powerful decision
maker’ (Czarniawska 1997: 42). Nowhere is this more readily observed than in the
study of organizational decision-making. Decision-making is a process compounded
from analysing, comparing, deciding, doing and finally controlling (see Fulop et al,
1999). Put briefly, from this perspective organization is the incorporation of
rationality into the routinization of habit (March, 1988): that place where the French
philosophical tradition unleashed by Rene Descartes meets American pragmatism,
informed by William James. With the concept of decision-making under uncertainty
and ambiguity (March, 1988), management and organization theory acknowledged
the limits of the rational in this process as they sought to ward off the unknown
through the familiar habits of organizational routines – whether they be constituted in
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the form of rules, policies, values, or simply understandings of ‘the way we do things
around here’. However, while decision-making under uncertainty reflects the
complexity of the environment and the bounded rationality of the actor, it still builds
on the same principles as its predecessor: the omnipotence of the ego-logical subject
as actor. What is innovative is that it tempers egoism with the habits of organizations:
the stress on routines and their recurrent review as the egoists think, plan, do and
review (Weick 1969; 1979; 1995).
While the importance of the division of labour is a folk-tale that stretc hes back at least
to Adam Smith (1723–1790), with his praise for the rationally divided pin-factory and
its labours in The Wealth of Nations (1976), the stress on the importance of division in
execution has usually coexisted with an even more classical conception than Smith’s.
In the history of management and organization theory belief in the division of labour
as a necessary principle of management for the 'hands' sits alongside the classical
concept of rationality, formulated by Descartes (1596-1650), as appropriate for the
'head'. Take Descartes’ reflections on architecture as a sample:
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One of the first things I thought it well to consider was that as a rule
there is not such great perfection in works composed of several parts,
and proceeding from the hands of various artists, as in those on which
one man has worked alone. Thus we see buildings undertaken and
carried out by a single architect are generally more seemly and better
arranged than those that several hands have sought to adept, making
use of old walls that were built for other purposes. Again, those ancient
cities which were originally mere boroughs, and have become large
towns in process of time, are as a rule badly laid out, as compared with
those towns of regular pattern that are laid out by a designer on an
open plain to suit his fancy; while the buildings severally considered
are often equal or superior artistically to those in planned towns, yet, in
view of their arrangement – here a large one, there a small – and the
way they make the streets twisted and irregular, one would say that it
was chance that placed them so, not the will of men who had the use of
reason (Descartes 1954: 15)
The architect ideally sits down in a chamber and starts his work ‘from scratch’,
planning every mark carefully. Historically pre-existing elements are perceived as
disturbing as they might not serve the function in the architect’s mind. Clearly we can
see the res cogitans-res extensa division at work: the mind plans, whereas the body,
the merely extended, passive and inert material, is to be formed according to this plan.
Its many hands are at their most consequential only when subordinated to one head.
Indeed, the dominance of structure as an organizing metaphor for organizations,
places architecture (as the designing and building of structures) in a direct relationship
with how we understand organizations.
Decartes’ architect is the rational planner of buildings and cities while the manager
became the rational planner of work processes and organizations. By corollary the
modern manager is a ‘man who has the use of reason’, who leaves little to chance in
structuring the optimal arrangements for work. As if foreshadowing the modern
management consultant, Descartes developed a method to implement this philosophy
appropriately: in his Discourse de la methode (1637/1977) he defines four steps that
the human mind has to follow carefully in order to produce proper solutions – or, as
he puts it: ‘the Method of rightly conducting one’s reason and reaching the truth’. His
precise instructions for analysing and decision-making provide (consciously or not)
the template for mainstream management models.
Thus for early modern management theorists such as Fayol (1949: 181) ‘the
soundness and good working order of the body corporate depend on a certain number
of conditions termed indiscriminately, principles, laws, rules’. Such principles relate
to that unity of direction and command centrally promulgated by management to and
for a subordinated, divided, and disciplined workforce. This centralised management
and its principles are not authoritarian but authoritative in source. They derive not
from managerial fiat or the social fact of capital ownership but they belong ‘to the
natural order; this turns of the fact that in every organism, animal or social, sensations
converge towards the brain or directive part, and from the brain or directive part
orders are sent out which set parts of the organism in movement’ (Fayol 1949: 193).
An organic metaphor serves to legitimate a new organon.
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Fayol and Ford were not singularly unusual. Their sentiment were shared by that
father of modern management, Frederick Winslow Taylor, when he insisted that ‘all
of the planning which under the old system was done by the workman, as a result of
his personal experience, must out of necessity under the new system be done by
management’ (Taylor 1967/1911: 38). Here decision-making is taken to be the
domain of the superior intellect of the manager such that he (usually) can deploy a
scientific rationality in order to find the infamous ‘one best way’ proposed by
Taylor’s approach. Management makes such decisions in such a way that the
managerial brain, in a mixed metaphor, is both at the centre and the top of the
organization. Managerial identity is this defined in terms of a prowess for rational
decision-making against the alterity of the stupid worker. Management did not have
greater authority because they were in a more powerful organizational position so
much as they were in a more powerful position because they had greater authority,
where their authority was meretricious, due to their superior intelligence. As Taylor
(1967/1911: 59) so famously wrote of one of his favourite workers:
Now one of the very first requirements for a man who is fit to handle pig
iron as a regular occupation is that he shall be so stupid and so
phlegmatic that he more nearly resembles in his mental make-up the ox
than any other type … the workman who is best suited to handling pig
iron is unable to understand the real science of doing this class of work.
He is so stupid that the word 'percentage' has no meaning to him, and he
must consequently be trained by a man more intelligent than himself into
the habit of working in accordance with the laws of this science before
he can be successful.
the strategic intent that gives organization its direction. Maybe it is just an irony or
perhaps the truth of etymology that lurks in language: it is the headquarters that makes
decisions that the organization is supposed to follow. Structure follows strategy; form
follows function (Chandler, 1962). Like a healthy body with a sharp mind, its organs
move in response to the application of rational decision-making processes. Such
rationality is the hallmark of the modern organization
time (and motivation for such use of time) are scare resources: it is for this reason that
satisfactory decisions will be made rather than optimal ones. Facing the 'bounded
rationality' of human beings, Simon and March found decision-makers working under
constraints that make optimal decisions impossible.
Cohen, March and Olsen (1972) pushed March and Simon’s critique one step further
announcing that the decision-making process in organizations is organized according
to the logic of what they call the garbage can. As they argue provocatively, decisions
are made when solutions, problems, participants and choices flow around and
coincide at a certain point. Like garbage in a can these adjacencies are often purely
random: yesterday’s papers end up stuck to today’s dirty diapers just as downsizing
attaches itself to profit-forecasts. William Starbuck (1983), to mention a third critical
spirit, turned this logic completely upside down and argued that organizations are not
so much problem solvers as action generators: instead of analysing and deciding
rationally how to solve problems organizations spend most of their time generating
problems to which they already have the solutions. It’s much more economical that
way: they know how to do what they will to do so all they have to do is work out why
they will do it. Or, rather, as Weick (1979) suggests, why they have done it – for,
taking a cue from Schutz (1967), how is it possible for organizations to know what
they are doing until they have decided what they have done by making a reflective
glance back at what they were just doing? Finally, putting Weick together with
Lindblom (1959), we can argue that organizational decision-making processes are not
really rational but follow the concept of 'muddling through' as organizations follow
the sense of things that they made in the past as they try and make sense of the here-
and-now while they construct their future.
Drawing strongly on Nietzsche, the French philosopher Michel Foucault analysed the
interface of power and knowledge. Knowledge accumulation is the first step in the
decision-making process. Without information leading to knowledge – as a result of
ratiocination – about specific local circumstances there will be no sound decision.
However, the process of knowledge creation is far from being a neutral, scientific or
objective process. Rather, the generation of knowledge is inextricably linked to and
with exercising power:
This challenges the dominant model in at least two respects: first, knowledge that
management needs to make informed decision is often found at the bottom, the edges
or the far periphery of the organizational hierarchy. In order to get access to this
knowledge, management has to exercise power, such as formalising tasks, collecting
experiences, and insisting that data be recorded as means for getting the necessary
knowledge out of employees, customers, and suppliers and making it available for
managerial scrutiny. Second, the process often evokes resistance as those in far-off
places are brought increasingly into focus and management is more and more forced
to adapt its strategy the better known they become. As the strategy guru Gary Hamel
(1996) suggests, strategy-making needs to become a bottom up process, driven by
outsiders, newcomers and underdogs. Only these people, normally pushed to and kept
at the margins or those who rarely and infrequently cross them, have different
perspectives to inform decision-making processes. As Hamel (1996) puts it, the
hierarchy of power and experience needs to be supplemented with a 'hierarchy of
imagination' – and this hierarchy of imagination turns the order of the organization
upside down. Thus, rethinking the fundamentals of decision-making in organizations
will necessarily effect organizational power relations. We will come back to this point
in our concluding remarks.
As we argued earlier the (albeit bounded) rationality of the ways that decision-making
is commonly understood rests on the presumption that their exists an approximation to
an ideal type of decision based on a thorough knowledge of the facts and the
application of rationality. Our concerns with this are twofold. First, we are
concerned that this fails to account for the non-rationality of decision. Thus
rationality as the guiding principle for understanding decision-making implies that
there exist decisions that can ultimately be judged as being better than others,
provided the appropriate technologies are applied to the appropriate data. Second,
rationality of decision implies a notion of the decision maker (e.g. a manager, or an
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It was Jacques Derrida who drew our attention to these issues of decision,
undecidability and responsibility when we read some of his recent philosophical
work. Once up on a time, it is clear, management scientists such as Simon, Weick and
March were well-informed readers of the current philosophies of their day. However,
over fifty years have elapsed since March and Simon (1952) first published
Administrative Behaviour, and over thirty years since Weick (1969) first published
The Social Psychology of Organizing. In that time new philosophies and philosophers
have emerged on the scene whose thinking has implications for management and
organization theory: however, there is little evidence that the vast majority of
management academics have any passing knowledge of the philosophy of recent
times – indeed, we are tempted to say that there is little evidence in citations to
suggest that the vast majority have much knowledge of any philosophers –even those
long dead ones whose writings buttress some of their fundamental views about
phenomena such as causality, ontology and epistemology. Of course, there are
honourable exceptions (see the debates contained in Westwood and Clegg 2003).
For Derrida, the philosophical possibility of there being such a thing as a decision
relies on a prior condition, which he refers to as ‘undecidability’. He suggests that in
order for a decision to be named as such it must involve some form of choice: a real
decision can be made only if one encounters different possibilities for courses of
action. Thus, decisions are not about the application of a heuristic formula or
calculation (e.g. Taylor’s scientific management methods) in order to assert or predict
the outcome of a course of action – to do this would be to make no decision at all as it
would entail following a pre-determined logic rather than choosing amongst
competing possibilities. Thus, the application of a heuristic process to define what to
do is not really a process of decision-making – it is rather better defined as the
application of a calculable program. Conversely,
Decisions may occur within the context of rules but cannot be reduced to their
application. A ‘decision that didn’t go through the ordeal of the undecidable would
not be a free decision, it would only be the application or unfolding of a calculable
process’ (Derrida 1992: 24). Such a calculable process of rationality is thus placed in
opposition to what Derrida wants to privilege as the real notion of decision, tying
decision-making closely to democratic notions of choice and freedom, where each
case in which a decision is to be made ‘is other, each decision is different and requires
an absolutely unique interpretation, which no existing, coded rule can or ought to
guarantee absolutely’ (Derrida 1992: 23). Indeed, the rationality of their being ‘only
one possible choice would make a joke of the very notion of choice’ (Laclau 1996:
59). A person who knows everything does not make decisions. Decisions involve the
person being moved, temporally, into the ‘unknowability of the future’ (Derrida
1994). In summary, Derrida’s position is that if a decision were based on the
application of rationality to an unbounded knowledge, it would not be a real decision
– merely the application of a rule.
It is worth noting that the term ‘undecidability’ is not synonymous with indecision or
with non-decisions; instead undecidability is defined in opposition to calculability.
Undecidability is not opposed to decision, but rather there can be a non-decision
without undecidability (Derrida 1999b). Deleuze and Guattari (1987) analysed the
consequences of undecidability, and concluded that it is the very precondition of
every 'revolutionary decision'. Instead of being paralysed by undecidability and seeing
it as a negative lack of reason, Deleuze and Guattari suggest that we understand it as a
starting point for radically new and groundbreaking action. If decisions were made
only on the basis of established frames of references, their outcome would remain
within the realm of the already known, the calculable and predictable. Undecidability
challenges these frames with revolutionary implications. Decision-making is that
which is not programmed or predictable – decisions represent a free choice where the
singularity of the decision is made in the face of the heterogeneity of possibilities. On
this basis, we now move on to consider decision-making in terms of its relationship
with responsibility and ethics.
such as Lukes (1974) and Clegg (2002), in seeing the ethical responsibilities of power
as always involving decisions. Where they do not, or where the author of some
actions seeks to pass them off as structurally determined, then the abdication of
ethical responsibility is usually a trick to deceive just consideration of the choices that
have, in fact, implicitly been made.
'For a decision to be worthy of the name, it must be more than the simple
determinative subsumption of a case under a rule. Looking up the rule
for the case and applying the rule is a matter of administration rather
than ethics. Ethics begins where the case does not exactly correspond to
any rule, and where the decision has to be taken without subsumption.
A decision worthy of its name thus takes place in a situation of radical
indecision or of undecidability of the case in question in terms of any
rules for judging it' (Bennington 2000: 15)
One writer on the Holocaust is Kelman (1973) who suggests that three organizational
attributes, at a minimum, make it easier to deal prejudicially with other people
through obedience to routine organizational actions:
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Each one of these strategies of power involves the application of rules: of authority; of
routine, and of identity. Let us deal with authorization first, a fundamental tenet of
Weber’s (1978) definition of modern bureaucratic organizations. What does authority
mean? One version of authority would bathe it in a warm glow of legitimated,
rightful and righteous domination. For those who are subject to it, authority appears
most simply as that to which we owe obedience. We obey authority: authority is
exercised when others obey it – for if they defy it, then it ceases to be authority. So,
all the mechanisms that produce active consent on the part of the ruled are essential to
authority and obedience. Active consent is premised on the 'demand to obey
commands of the superiors to the exclu sion of all other stimuli for action, to put the
devotion to the welfare of the organization, as defined in the commands of superiors,
above all devotions and commitments' (Bauman 1989: 21). As Bauman suggests, for
some, indeed many organizations, such ded ication to organizational service is often
regarded as a moral virtue.
Doing routinized organization work is often tedious, boring and repetitive: filling in
forms, entering data, assembling strategies and participating in meetings, doing things
according to the rules. The outcomes of this ceaseless round of activity are frequently
quite remote from the conceptions of the people performing the mundane tasks. Most
organizational members are in the middle of organizational chains whose links are not
always clear. Their actions are mediative and mediated. They perform tasks for
others and others perform tasks for them; the tasks are just a part of endless and often
very partial gestalt round of action. People are not always aware of the consequences
of that which they do and do not do: after all, most of the time, they are just doing
what they are told – shred those files, write those cheques, despatch those troops,
maintain those train schedules.
The greater the psychic and physical distance between what a people do and their
ultimate effects, the easier it is to do it. Shooting someone dead is much harder than
cutting off their power and water for non-payment of debt, even though the effects
might ultimately be the same. There is immediacy where there is a moral code that
states 'Thou shalt not kill', while in the other circumstances one simply applies the
rule: well, it is just a job, where you monitor accounts and take appropriate – and
authoritative – action. Long chains of functional dependencies insulate you from
moral consequences – as Eichmann argued and modern functionaries in high-
technology warfare would no doubt agree. The Nazi’s realized this well: at their most
efficient they turned the concentration camps into crude killing machines where
willing victims, desiring a shower after a long journey, were serviced by sanitation
officers who simply poured in chemicals developed by scientists in laboratories
elsewhere.
Divisions of labour (as we have seen, an essential prerequisite for Smith’s conception
of efficiency) enable us to keep a distance from effects; to represent them in terms of
intermediary forms of data – kill-rates, efficiency statistics, and so on, enabling
distantiation to become normal. It reinforces the sense of the minuteness of the cogs
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that our labour moves and their necessary intermeshing with so many others, it makes
us just an element in an overall scheme of things such that we don’t even have to try
and understand in its totality. The system of which we are part is responsible, not us.
When we make decisions we just apply rules. Blame the rules – not the person, goes
the pleas – because the rules make the person ethically non-responsible even while
technically responsible. When we master techniques our skill has its own charm,
aesthetics and beauty, and we can take sheer delight in their practice, irrespective of
their moral effects. 'Technical responsibility differs from moral responsibility in that it
forgets that the action is a means to something other than itself . . . the result is the
irrelevance of moral standards for the technical success of the bureaucratic
operation' (Bauman 1989: 101). When technique is paramount then action becomes
purely a question of technical power – the use of means to achieve given ends. For
instance, as a master of logistics Eichmann was enormously proud of his
achievements in the complex scheduling of trains, camps and death.
The more dehumanised the objects, or the means of their representation, on which
organizational action works, the easier the application of pure technique becomes.
Distance – and distantiation – makes technical representation easier. When whatever
is being worked on can be represented quantitatively, as a bottom line calculation,
then it is so much easier to make rational decisions – cut costs, trim fat, speed
throughput, increase efficiency, defeat the competition – without concern for the
human, environmental or social effects of these decisions. If organizational power
consists of configuring social relations such that others will do what we want them to
so, perhaps even without expending any energy in the process, then making those
others technically accountable and responsible for results expressed in a purely
quantitative form has two profound effects. First, it makes them utterly transparent:
they have achieved their targets or they have not; Second, it relieves them of moral
indeterminacy – if they are authorized to do something and given targets to achieve by
superordinates working to guiding strategies and plans, then obedience surely is
appropriate and authority should be served.
‘we would not be justified in seeing here the unfolding of an egological immanence,
the autonomic and automatic deployment of predicates or possibilities proper to a
subject’ (Derrida 1999a: 24). Decision, as responsibility, invokes the question of to
whom one is responsible when making a decision – decision thus implies subjectivity
through an I-other relationship. Thus the creativity of decision – its ‘moment of
madness’ – is the ‘moment of the subject’ (Laclau 1996: 54), such that rather than the
subject being a ‘chooser’ who makes a decision, it is the act of decision through
which the subject position of the person making the choice emerges – not as an
expression of identity but as an act of identification. Organizations do not make
decisions at all – rather, particular organizational identities emerge through the
decisions made in their name, decision for which the organization becomes
responsible. Such an identity (organizational or otherwise) is ‘no longer a self-
identity, an ego, a consciousness, even an intentional consciousness’ (Raffoul 1988:
277) but rather an ethical identity emergent from the process of decision-making –
despite whatever protestations to the contrary.
The implications of Wittgenstein's idea for management practice are more tangible
than one might suspect at first glance. Several theoretical and empirical studies
emphasise the importance of diversity and heterogeneity in the process of decision-
making (Hamel, 1996; Fenwick and Neal, 2001; Glover et al, 2002) and integrate it
with a philosophy which stresses that ethical decision-making must be considered as
something existing beyond ‘the programmable application or unfolding of a
calculable process’ (Derrida 1992: 24). Thus, we suggest that management’s task is
not to do as modern conceptions of decision-making recommend, but instead should
be one of enhancing and maintaining structures within which moral agents can
understand the conditions of undecidability with which they are faced as opportunities
and responsibilities (rather than as threats and fears) and that actively foster a more
democratically responsible decision-making process (Charan 2001). Such democracy,
however, needs to take into account decision-making in terms of responsibility – that
is to ask both who gets to make the decisions and how and to whom one might be
responsible when making decisions.
Discussing Derrida has thus brought decision-making squarely into the realm of the
ethical. What, then, should be the relationship between decisions, organization and
ethics? There is a conventional view that the decisions made can be related to
variables associated with individual decision-makers (e.g., read off from gender,
class, education, occupation, etc.) and to variables which define the situation in which
decisions are made (e.g. organizational culture, governance structures and so on) (see
for example Ford and Richardson 1994; Loe, Ferrell and Mansfield 2000). Here
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organizational ‘rules’ for ethical conduct are seen to be located in a corporate culture
‘that explicitly promotes and encourages ethical decision making; (Chen, Sawyers and
Williams 1997: 855). In this vein, Gottlieb and Sanzgini (1996) propose three
dimensions that are important in moving organizations towards the creation of ethical
norms and assumptions – leaders with integrity and social conscience; organizational
culture that foster dialogue and dissent; and organizations that are willing to reflect on
and learn from their actions. Such approaches draw important relationships between
decision-making, organizations and ethics. While we are sympathetic to their
concerns, we are troubled by the ethics of such theories in that they seem to propose
that the ethical conduct of organizations ought to be improved by isolating and
manipulating particular ‘variables’ and that by institutionalising cultural norms this
improvement can be facilitated. Thus, the project of ethical decision-making appears
to be one that desires normative control on the basis of its own implicit moral
positioning. The call is for ethical theories that are ‘rigorous and relevant’ for
theoretical, empirical and normative agendas (Harrison and Freeman 1999). Such
normativity suggests that norms and rules ought to govern decision-making. Given
our discussion of undecidability, however, we contend that the application of such
rules would be the very revocation of the possibility of a responsible decision.
The implications of this for decision-making practice are significant, as the Eichmann
case – as an extreme version of the rule-bound positions in which many good people
find themselves, organizationally, everyday – makes clear. On our analysis, Eichmann
was guilty as charged – but so would be the train time-tablers, the drivers, switch
operators, and all the other silent witnesses, as well as the personnel in the camps.
Being in organizations and doing things according to rule should not be a sufficient
account to justify ethical irresponsibility. Rather, it is the insight that firstly the
quality of the decisions made depend on the organizational power/knowledge regime,
and secondly, that the ethics of decisions is based in the fundamental undecidability of
decision-making, that we want to put on the agenda of management and organization
theory.
Final Remarks
Facing the ivory tower that theory constantly tends to build, even a Descartes
(1954:13), godfather of scientific rationality, stated:
'It appeared to me that I could find much more truth in such reasonings
as every man makes about the affairs that concern himself, and whose
issue will very soon make him suffer if he has made a miscalculation,
than I the reasonings of a man of letters in his study, about speculations
that produce no effect and have no importance for him – except that
perhaps he will feel the more conceited about them, the more remote
they are from common sense, since he will have had to use the greater
amount of ingenuity and skill in order to make them plausible.'
positivism, realism, and other ancient isms, which our paper seeks elegantly, through
the use of Derrida, to sidestep (see the debates in Westwood and Clegg, 2003 as
warrant for these observations). There is philosophy after Popper, after philosophy of
science, and there is no reason, a priori, why maintaining their ignorance of these
discussions should lower the moral culpabilities of management and organization
theory students.
References