"Activity poisoning," I declared. "A classic case!"
In looking back at the founding of Scientific Management, one of my huge mysteries was the nagging question, "Why the focus on tasks?" A couple of weeks into the investigation, I stumbled upon a possible answer. What Gantt called tasks, we would probably refer to as outcomes. He claimed that "men" (it was always "men" in those days) worked more effectively if they had the end result in mind. He claimed that this focus was far superior to maintaining attention on the physical effort to be expended.
Now, it's common to characterize projects as networks of activities. This curious focus is difficult for humans. Why? Activities are verb forms. Our language is nominal, in that it attempts to construct a world of things (nouns). As I've confided to a couple of generations of would-be project managers, the fundamental understanding one must carry into project work is the clear acceptance that there's no such thing as a project. It's NOT a thing.
How does one describe a verb? Usually with long strings of inadequate nouns.
How does one describe a project if not by long hierarchically-arranged strings of activities? Ask the scientist suffering from Activity Poisoning. He's translating what was passed to him as an activity template into something quite different—an outcome network.
This strategy more closely mirrors Gantt's intent when he first proposed his now famous charting technique. More recent theorists have counseled to "start with the end in mind."
The early focus on time and motion studies was an interesting idea, but they never worked out. This due to one of the principles of General Systems Theory, the principle of equifinality. This principle claims that there are an infinite number of ways to produce any finite outcome. It implies that how you travel is a whole lot less important than clearly understanding where you're traveling to. The time and motion studies demonstrated this by showing that, while they believed there would be a reducible One Best Way to accomplish any task, the same person would not always do the same things twice.
So, our hero is painstakingly translating the verb-form template into something he can sink his teeth into. What it blithely refers to as analysis, for instance, he recognized as an ill-formed attempt to describe the means to produce some undefined end. Once he decides what the end result of this blithering ambiguity might be (and it is a choice), he can state what he intends to produce, then position this outcome in space and time.
Had the master planner stooped to display the mastery of planning, by which I mean engaged in conversation with everyone involved in the effort before deciding on THE framework, most of this translating would have been unnecessary. What was efficient (another meaningless nominalized verb) for the program office, tangled up dozens of individual contributors and frustrated the program management staff. Result: planning deadline ultimately missed.
Small misinterpretation, huge mistake.
Previously in this series: First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh and Eighth.
The
Way A Poet Might
If I were to
write this poem the way we’re trained to manage work,
I wouldn’t need a pen or paper (or an eraser, or any
quirks).
I’d start with pure logistics, and organize the space
in the One Best Way to guarantee the efficiency of pace.
I’d consider all the resources I’d likely ever
need,
Then contract to acquire each before I would ever dare
proceed.
And I would draft a careful plan with metrics clean and
square
to guide my pen and paper use, to co-opt every care.
I would also study others’ works with a coolly larcenous
eye,
To find the very best of class to anonymously plagiarize.
Then I might change a word or two, and certainly tweak the
title,
before publishing the result to great tumult, The New American
Bible!
Then I would
gather followers, only true believers please,
willing to curse that other guy’s verse as immature
sleeze.
Then we would live the good life, just as outlined in the
paen,
and question our personal dedication before we’d ever doubt
the plan.
We’d sacrifice our dignity, foregoing every break
to guarantee our every deed was finished, never late.
And we would balance the metre on the head of a hair-fine pin
while delivering to the expectations no one knew when we
began.
And we would know true joy there as we’d execute the
plan,
The soul of full maturity manifested in mere man.
We’ll be carried on their shoulders into a victory
dance,
Revered, respected laureates, perfect creases in our
pants.
But if I were to
manage my project work the way a poet might
I would never lay a plan before entering the long, dark
night.
I’d ride with synchronicity and just the sparest goal
while trusting the Gods to beat the odds, wagering one immortal
soul.
I’d start with pen and paper and the barest of belief
then bleed my fool heart out onto paper, down my sleeve.
I’d soak my cuffs in metaphor then scrub them clean with
rhyme
and lose my orientation relative to space and time.
I’d know I was making progress if an hour disappeared
and call it great every time I’d taste a salty, bitter
tear.
I’d discover something wonderful or simply waste my
life,
while a growing, deep concern to both my neighbors and my
wife.
And
occasionally, just once in a while, I’d touch the face of
God,
then fail to explain what happened, just an incoherent clod.
I’d never know the lives I’d touched and rarely catch a
glimmer
of how my personal struggles might have saved some nascent
sinner.
But I would continue to write my words, like a shark must swim to
live,
obsessed, I suppose, (who could know?), by the form the crafting
gives.
I might never know the shoulders of the cheering crowd’s
rejoice
but thrive instead between my head and my tiny, tremulous
voice.
I might wonder at the magic and ponder all my days
but never distill what grit and will left gleaming on the
page.
My method must be madness, non-rational and uncouth,
I cannot calculate efficiency when confronted with the
truth.
Within each and
every manager, there beats a poet’s heart;
in continuous contention with the engineer in charge.
While one insists their intuits can clearly guide the way,
their opposite counters rationally to each asserted claim.
You can see it in the eye roll, the pre-conscious turn of
head,
The intellect and the intuition are wishing each other dead.
But I say bless the both of them as they wrestle each effort to
ground,
One scream without the other wouldn’t even make half a
sound.
No, you you can’t predict very much of what will matter in
the end,
but neither need you contemplate every logical extent.
What’s real is always up for grabs, philosophy weighted by
stone,
it’s in these conversations that we find our way back
home.
Without that odd
perspective, without that curious twist,
there is no conversation worthy of us getting miffed;
(the way we always do when we’re pursuing to the plan
or confounded by the certainty we will disappoint The Man.)
For we are merely mortals here, spelunking on this plain,
our Gods amused at just how confused our futures must remain.
Blinded by our own bright lights and deafened by our songs,
we insist on buying the batteries that promise to last long.
We’re learning at a snail’s pace while racing toward
the end;
perhaps our worst contenders are our well-disguised best
friends.
Our methods might be madness, our imperatives far from rhyme,
Our quatrains barely good enough, but perfectly adequate for
project work, I guess.
Following the general strike at an arsenal following an attempt to install the Taylor System, the government funded an investigation of this method in practice. Visiting thirty five plants identified by the primary proponents of Scientific Management, the investigators produced a fascinating snapshot of a revolution in the making, one unresolved today, the patterns repeated with every emerging innovation. Ergo:
..."in practice there is no general adherence [to] the order of installation as laid down by Mr. Taylor, and, in many cases, there is a notable neglect of the process of organic and material improvement. The better class of experts do indeed insist on beginning the installation of scientific management with the study and standardization of the material and organic factors. But, generally speaking, they are not able to carry this work forward to a reasonable degree before being forced to enter upon definite task setting or efficiency rating based on time study and the introduction of so-called "efficiency systems" of payment. The management usually wants to see quicker returns than can be secured by the slow process of systematic and thoroughgoing reorganization and the expert is usually forced to yield to the demand for immediate results that can be measured in cash terms. But it must not be supposed that all the experts even resist such demands. The better class in this respect are decidedly in the minority. It is safe to say that most of those who offer their services to employers have not themselves the ability or the willingness to install scientific management in accordance with the Taylor formula and ideals. They, too, are prevailingly after quick returns with small regard for the long-time outcome and little real knowledge or consideration for the real effects upon the workers so long as the latter can be kept reasonably contented and a good showing be made.
"The result is that among the shops systematized there is no general uniformity in the process or completeness of installation. Thoroughgoing material and organic improvement and standardization are very often delayed and very often neglected. Some particular aspect or feature of the system is not infrequently stressed out of all proportion and this is very apt to be task setting or some particular system of payment. Sometimes, even, these labor features are the only ones seriously dealt with, and there are cases where they are the only important results of the work of the experts and where they become in the minds of both expert and management the essence and almost the only corporeal reality of scientific management.
"In short, in this most general
and important aspect of the order and thoroughness of installation,
scientific management may mean anything or almost nothing, viewed
from the standpoint of the ideals and principles of the leaders. In
character and operation, the systematized shops range from a few
which fairly closely approach the elaborate scheme advocated by Mr.
Taylor through all possible variations down to that in which some
single feature of his system is applied unaccompanied by other
methods and policies necessary to make it a reasonable and
effective agency of efficiency. Between these extremes, the forms
of the Taylor system are often installed with more or less
completeness at the same time that the spirit and principles are
violated and discarded."
Excerpted from Scientific Management and Labor by Robert Franklin
Hoxie, D.
Appleton and Company, New York and London, 1915 -
T58H63
"In pursuing this study, the investigator and the official experts were governed throughout by two standards of judgment.
"First, scientific management, in its relations to labor, must be judged, not merely by the theories and claims, either of its representatives or opponents, but mainly by what it proves to be in its actual operation. Mr. Taylor, especially, has intimated that if any principle of scientific management which he has laid down is violated, scientific management ceases to exist. Evidently, the acceptance of this dictum would lead to endless quibbling, and would prevent the drawing of significant conclusions as to the actual character and tendencies of scientific management and its effects upon labor welfare. It would be as true to say that the church and the state rest upon certain fundamental principles, and that if any of these are violated in practice, church and state cease to exist. Scientific management, in this respect, is like any other thing in the social or material world. It is what it is in fact, and not what the ideals or theories of its advocates or opponents would have it to be. Labor and society at large are not interested especially in the theory of scientific management as it exists in the mind of an individual, but in the way that it affects welfare in its application. Like all other things which affect humanity, it must, therefore, be judged by actual results and tendencies.
"Secondly, it follows that the scope of scientific management—what features are to be included under it—is to be determined, again, not by the theories of its leaders, but by what is found to exist and persist in the systematized portions of shops designated to represent it. If shops so designated by leaders of the movement generally lay emphasis on so-called welfare work, or, in general, eliminate the spirit and the means for the expression of democracy, then welfare work must be considered a part of scientific management, and the absence of democracy a feature of it, though the former be excluded from the theoretical expositions of its leaders, and democracy be declared by them to be the essence of scientific management.
... "Scientific management in theory is not a single consistent body of thought. While there is doubtless a fundamental unity in the movement, various leaders and would be leaders have arisen each with his own peculiar doctrines or his own particular emphasis upon special aspects of the system. Vital contradictions and important additions and omissions have thus appeared which tend to separate the scientific management group into schools differing considerably in general viewpoint. The most important of these so called schools are those respectively of the late Mr. FW Taylor, Mr. HL Gantt and Mr. Harrington Emerson 1
(footnote) "These schools are not altogether distinct either in theory or practice. There is considerable overlapping of thought by the leaders and among the assumed followers; both within the schools and without, there is much diversity and departure from the model, due to a distinct element of charlatanism.
"Under
these circumstances, the writer has felt justified in making Mr.
Taylor's statements of the nature of scientific management and its
relations to labor the standard claims of scientific management. In
presenting the labor claims of scientific management, therefore,
and in judging them with reference to the facts, the Taylor system
has been taken as the positive basis of exposition and comparison,
the Gantt and Emerson claims being presented and dealt with only as
they differ from or modify Mr. Taylor's
statements."
Excerpted from
Scientific Management and Labor by Robert Franklin
Hoxie,
D. Appleton and Company, New York and London, 1915 -
T58H63
The General Definition of Scientific Management (according to Labor)
"Organized labor understands by the term "scientific management" certain well defined efficiency systems which have been recently devised by individuals and small groups under the leadership and in imitation of men like Frederick W Taylor, HL Gantt and Harrington Emerson, by whom this term has been preempted. Organized labor makes a clear distinction between scientific management thus defined and science in management. It does not oppose savings of waste and increase of output resulting from improved machinery and truly efficient management. It stands therefore definitely committed to science in management and its objections are directed solely against systems devised by the so called "scientific management" cult."
"Scientific management
thus defined is a device employed for the purpose of increasing
production and profits and tends to eliminate consideration for the
character, rights and welfare of the employees. It looks upon the
worker as a mere instrument of production and reduces him to a semi
automatic attachment to the machine or tool. In spirit and essence
it is a cunningly devised speeding up and sweating system which
puts a premium upon muscle and speed rather than brains, forces
individuals to become rushers and speeders, stimulates and drives
the workers up to the limit of nervous and physical exhaustion and
over speeds and over strains them, shows a constant tendency to
increase the intensity and extent of the task, tends to displace
all but the fastest workers, indicates a purpose to extract the
last ounce of energy from the workers, and holds that if the task
can be performed it is not too great."
Excerpted from
Scientific Management and Labor by Robert Franklin
Hoxie,
D. Appleton and Company, New York and London, 1915 -
T58H63
So, what makes scientific management scientific? Originally, Taylorism was not referred to as Scientific Management, but as The Taylor Method. Taylor claimed it was rooted in scientific method, so Louis Brandeis, a progressive attorney, suggested the label. In a society crazy about science, the label stuck. So, the first reason this approach is called Scientific Management is that a clever lawyer, trying a prominent case, called it that. The case got press and the label was permanent.
Beyond branding, Taylor was adamant about distinguishing his method from rule of thumb approaches. He was troubled by the question, What constitutes a fair day's work? In classic scientific fashion, he observed and kept careful notes. From these, he tried to determine the optimal interaction between operator and machine; what he called The One Best Way.
His first focus was on lathe operators, and he had been a lathe operator. He understood that there was, by tradition, informal agreements among the operators that determined how much work would be done. He also understood from his own experience operating lathes, that this quantity was well beneath what he was capable of producing. His biographer claimed that once Taylor was promoted to a supervisory role, he felt moral outrage at the disparity.
But to replace the informally derived rate with his own a priori notions (his original strategy) created a prolonged battle between workers and management. He felt bad about having to come down so hard on people, even if they were just workers, so he sought moral as well as objective justification by applying the scientific method.
Anyone who's ever tried to determine the optimum of anything regarding people can see where his inquiry would lead him. Yes, he could finely determine optimum on paper, but people aren't paper, even if they are workers.
Taylor was not the first. Babbage dabbled in determining optimal machine performance. A French manufacturer decomposed the entire process for making pins in the 1780s. And there were efficiency experts all over the place in Taylor's time. Taylor was methodical and he was insistent. He had a way of making his calculations stick.
So, the second reason for calling it scientific is that it was designed as a scientific enquiry. Like all good science, though, between design and execution, some complications arose. Prominent among them, the disturbing fact that workers would not and sometimes just plain could not perform as Taylor prescribed. He adopted several strategies for resolving this little disparity. One was to simply fire anyone who didn't work as directed. Another was to assign only the youngest and strongest to perform the work, making it more likely that quotas would be met. A visiting British manufacturer asked, when touring a Taylor plant, where all the old workers were. The owner was reported to have pointed to the adjacent cemetery.
In practice, Taylor found that even sub-optimum design produced a lot more output than informal design had. His goal was not achieved in that he was not able to unambiguously determine optimum performance, but he could and did boost performance beyond what was possible otherwise.
His science, like much science, was not of the pure variety. His decades of experience distilled into what he called "The Principles" of scientific management, not the rules or the facts or the objective optimum. He insisted upon using the term One Best Way, however, and stuck by his story that he was conjuring science.
The third reason scientific management is considered scientific is because one of the prominent early practitioners called what he did science. Who knew from science?
Taylor's response to roadblocks was typically not very scientific. In the absence of good data, he was not above inventing data to support his perspective. His methods proved to be some improvement over the social governance common during his time, where foreman would routinely shake down workers, accepting bribes, doling out little perks, and generally holding the enterprise hostage to patronage. He produced a system more suitable for supermen than humans, and replaced one form of top down governance with another, one which might be argued, also held the enterprise hostage.
I could make a long list of the instances where industry subsumed science, and an even longer list where the temperament of the investigator did.
Taylor adopted a systematic approach to managing work. He started a very big ball rolling down a very steep hill. Yea, he was a charismatic whack job. He was brimming with the popular prejudices of his day. That his science, as I said before, succeeded only in conjunction with autocratic control lessens the science in my mind. There were others, then and following Taylor, who had other ideas about how science might improve industry.
I'll continue the story on a slightly different thread. I'm tired of Taylor. You probably are, too.
