Thompson Work Organisations A Critical Introduction (3rd ed)

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right circumstances on the basis of what are known as ‘TOTE’ units. These Test–Operate–Test–Exit units (Miller et al., 1960) represent the stages in which we learn a behaviour or a skill and process the information relating to it. The process involved is a simple feedback mechanism whereby we continuously monitor (test) the results of our actions (operations) until we successfully complete them (exit). TOTE units build up behaviours as part of subplans which feed into wider plans. Thus we might continually test out the limits of how far we can extend our tea-break as part of trying to increase our time away from work we dislike, or as part of attempts to annoy a hated supervisor, or even as a formally constituted plan to resist management controls. The importance of Miller’s work is in establishing the importance of feedback in the dynamics of the learning process, although as those of us who endure annual appraisal know, feedback of poor quality can turn learning into a chore rather than a dynamic opportunity.

The behaviours we learn can be built up into scripts, so that we use learned knowledge through applying categories of particular activities. This is the process involved in the notion of action regulation (Hacker and Volpert, cited in Resch et al., 1984), whereby all action is hierarchically organised into units representing sub-goals of the planned action. ‘Actions are continually adjusted to changes in the environment’ (Frese, 1982: 213), and are initially performed and learned at an intellectual level under conscious control. After time and practice they become more ‘automatised’ and are controlled at the level of flexible action patterns, which are the intermediary level of control and represent standardised scripts that can be somewhat modified in the face of situational change. At the final or sensorimotor level, actions become stereotyped, automatic responses. Thus when learning to drive we start out having to perform all actions consciously and often err in them. With practice we rehearse patterns of behaviour for changing gear, approaching junctions and so on, to a standard sufficient to pass our driving test, though novel or unexpected situations can throw us back to the intellectual level. Eventually we get to the point where we can drive to work at speed, unconsciously negotiating all manner of obstacles, while at the same time rehearsing our arguments for an important meeting with our boss. Thus when actions are learned to the sensorimotor level, the higher levels are made available for pursuing other goals and tasks. Of course in highly routinised work, although actions may be made at the sensorimotor level there is no concomitant ‘freedom’ to pursue personal goals. At the intellectual level such work only frees us to be frustrated or at best to daydream.

We can explain how we go about learning from the above perspectives, but it is more difficult to explain how we know what we need to learn, and what the appropriate behaviours are in any given situation. If we are to link learning to the construction of identity in organisational settings, we need to know how the demands of that setting are communicated to us and why we internalise them. When we join an organisation, there are demands on us to learn certain things (how to do our work, ‘correct’ attitudes and behaviour) and we need to learn how to survive in a new and possibly unfamiliar environment. This process can occur in a formal fashion, as in induction programmes where we learn about the work itself and the rules and procedures that surround it. But more importantly it can proceed in an informal fashion, stemming not from training but from our interaction with those we work with. Most people learn about work through observation and questioning of their workmates. One of the major industrial training methods has for a long time been the ‘sitting with

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Nellie’ approach where the recruit works with a trained operative to learn the skills necessary to the task. An unlooked-for consequence in this may also be ‘learning the ropes’, how to cope with work, utilise short-cuts, or learning to ‘make-out’ by manipulating bonus systems. A modern analogue of this approach is the practice of mentoring where ‘entrants’ or candidates for promotion are guided and counselled through their career development. Kram (1983) identifies stages of initiation, cultivation, separation and redefinition in this type of relationship, mentors effectively leading their chargse to a stage where they can define their own relationship to the demands of their ‘career cycle’.

Hosking and Morley (1991: 100–4) comment on how ‘evaluative beliefs’ contribute to mentor/sponsor relationships, in that as projects/organisations become larger, more reliance has to be placed on ideological belief structures, with both positive and negative results. They widen this discussion to the relations between scripted behaviour, cognitive dissonance, self-justification and rationalisation in network building, which is essentially a process of what we might term self-socialisation in support of career and personal goals.

Socialisation

The models and mechanisms of learning relevant in the above contexts are those that offer some account of the process of socialisation. Socialisation as a process reflects our general theme on the construction of subjective identity, in the sense of an individual both becoming a subjective entity and becoming subject to external influence. These two aspects of the socialisation process are not separate, although they are conceptualised differently in organisational literature and are generally explained through psychosocial mechanisms rather than subjective experience. On the one hand there are the aspects of socialisation that deal directly with the psychological process of learning, notably the ‘social learning’ models characterised by Eysenck (1947) which focuses on inherited differences in a person’s ability to build up conditioned responses, and by Bandura and Walters’ (1963) model which focuses on how conditioned responses to external stimuli are mediated by internal psychological processes. On the other hand, there are those aspects of learning dealing with the ways in which a person is tied to the demands of the groups to which they belong through social identity theory, which is discussed further in Chapters 20 and 21.

Social learning theories combine elements of cognitive and behaviourist theory to produce a model of learning which focuses on interaction. From this the basic process of learning is the observation of the behaviour of others: the selection, organisation and transformation of the stimuli provided through observation, and the subsequent identification with, and imitation of, selected parts of the observed behaviour. This process, known as modelling, goes further than mechanisms such as associative or instrumental learning, as it involves people generating their own rewards and reinforcements, and selecting behaviours in line with their own expectations and desired consequences. We do not slavishly imitate the behaviour of those about us, or even those appearing to act in the most appropriate fashions. We select those aspects of the activity we observe which we can usefully incorporate into our own repertoire of appropriately scripted behaviours. By modelling our behaviour in this fashion we avoid indulging in wasteful and possibly embarrassing attempts to fit ourselves to our surroundings by trial and error, while managing to exert some control and influence over our own activity.

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Roles

The modelling process guides us to the appropriate behaviours demanded of us in our organisational ‘role’. The concept of ‘role’ has had too much interpretation for us give a full account (see Biddle, 1979 or Mullins, 1999: 470–6). But for our present purposes, roles can be seen as sets of self-categorised, stereotyped and scripted behaviours enabling us to act in a contextually consistent manner. The effect of the role expectations, both formal and informal, placed on us by our work and peers are seen as so important to effective management that diagnostic instruments such as the Belbin Team Role Self Perception Inventory (1981) have been developed to aid people in effectively scripting their own differentiated roles in groups and teams (see Chapter 20). Through modelling, our behaviour can be influenced by that of those we select as role models, those whom we perceive to be acting in a ‘correct’ or desirable fashion. By building our own behavioural repertoire out of selected actions of role models we can fit our actions to those required by the organisational culture. Thus close associations with role models can effectively form an informal mentoring relationship. We also utilise negative role models to define for us the types of behaviour we do not wish to imitate, generally based on those we perceive as acting in inappropriate or socially disapproved fashions. In other words, what individuals gain from the social learning process are guidelines and frameworks for action and self-evaluation in the production of an identity which can cope with and blend into its surroundings. Examples might be found in the way that newcomers are socialised into sexually-stereotyped occupations. In the Insco case, for example, the branch manager explains that ‘we try to keep people coming in at the bottom so that we can train them to our ways, get them used to the company’ (Knights and Collinson, 1987: 161). The models who newcomers are most likely to emulate and compare themselves to are those who appear situationally competent, who fit the appropriate stereotypes and who hold the right attitudes, thus reproducing, for instance, the ‘macho’ image of the construction worker.

Socialisation through social learning does not, however, simply transform an individual into an image of what an organisation requires, notwithstanding Handy’s definition of socialisation in OB terms as ‘the process by which an organisation seeks to make the individual more amenable to the prevalent mode of influence’ (1976: 134). We certainly do learn to produce in ourselves normative characteristics and produce identities with consistent social meaning, but at the same time we acquire and produce distinctive characteristics, those which define our identities. Even though social learning enables us to take on a normative role, our observations can just as easily lead us to enhance those things about ourselves reinforcing our personal rather than social meaning.

The role models we use are not only those people with whom we are in immediate contact. In producing an identity we also use individuals and reference groups with whom we may have little or no interaction. We may base the image we present not only on those behaviours and models appropriate to our present context, but on those pertaining to roles and perceived identities to which we aspire. We may act in a way consistent with other shop floor workers, but at the same time adopt some behaviours which link us with superiors if we desire promotion, or perhaps the representatives of a professional or trade union organisation if we perceive enhanced meaning and identity as lying in that direction.

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Skills and styles

As intimated earlier, much of the work on learning theory has been linked to increasing the effectiveness of formal training programmes, the key concepts here being the transfer of learning, the acquisition of skills and adapting training programmes to the ‘learning curve’ of the trainee. (See McKenna, 2000: 571–2 for a useful discussion.) Learning transfer relates to the conditions under and extent to which stimuli can be generalised to new situations. Skill acquisition is generally approached through prescriptions about the nature of feedback to be given (developed for example from Miller’s TOTE model), and how learning tasks should be broken down into assimilable chunks prior to practising the integration of the whole task. ‘Learning curves’ indicate that the rate of assimilation of learning tends to reach a plateau after a while, and that careful setting of objectives is needed to get the trainee to the next stage of his or her learning. This latter notion can be related to our earlier comments on action regulation, in that as action patterns are learned we need to go back to the intellectual level of learning before we can script new action patterns and get to the next stage of integrating the total activity into sensorimotor action. Where we have to learn consciously again, clear objectives become critical variables in our motivation to learn. (See the section on goal-setting in Chapter 19.)

Pressures continually to update employees’ skills are becoming greater in this era of ‘continuous professional development’ (CPD) and quality standardisation in initiatives such as ISO9000 and Investors in People (IiP). This has consolidated the interest in management development circles on the notion of ‘experiential learning’, derived from Kolb’s (1976) work on the ‘learning cycle’. This suggests that learning takes place in four stages, all of which are necessary to effective learning:

1Seeking concrete experiences related to goals.

2Reflective observation and interpretation of experience.

3 Forming abstract concepts and generalisations related to goals.

4Active experimentation on concepts, leading back to 1.

Kolb’s evidence on management learning claims that personal preferences and learning goals will lead individuals to focus on particular stages of the cycle in learning styles which can be identified through use of the ‘Learning Styles Inventory’ (LSI). On this basis, Starkey (1996: 262) notes that ‘In general managers tend to emphasise active experimentation over reflective observation. . . . Theorists of management tend to stress reflective observation and abstract conceptualization.’ This is indicative of the fact that Kolb’s learning styles actually relate to combinations of preferences for particular stages as follows: convergent (3 and 4), divergent (1 and 2), assimilation (2 and 3) and accommodation (1 and 4).

Kolb (in Starkey, 1996: 279) then links these styles to a model of the problemsolving process so that the full process requires all four styles to be enacted. Style preferences are not simply related to personality characteristics, but to the context of, and the skills or strengths needed in, the learning situation. Thus managers would tend to an accommodation style which Kolb links to executing solutions and choosing models or goals. Management theorists on the other hand would tend to an assimilation style which Kolb links to problem selection and considering alternative solutions.

It is still the case that in much of the mainstream OB literature, learning styles are

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linked directly to personality traits in stages 1 to 4 above, rather than to Kolb’s style typology. This can be seen in an often-cited application produced by Honey and Mumford (1982) who classify the stages themselves as styles:

•activist (1)

•reflector (2)

•theorist (3)

•pragmatist (4).

Honey and Mumford’s styles are used more as predictive personality traits than as analytic or diagnostic categories, and are claimed to explain why ‘given the same experience . . . some people learn while others do not’ (promotional brochure for Honey and Mumford’s ‘Learning Styles Questionnaire’). The probability is, of course, that given the same experience, what some people learn is that they do not want to assimilate the material their trainers are giving them. When CPD becomes ‘compulsory professional development’, learning itself becomes a chore which will promote either resistance or resigned acceptance to learning initiatives.

Learning and development

The predecessor of systems of continuous improvement or professional development was staff development, the theoretical base of which Miller and Verduin (1979) place in perceptual psychology, assuming attitudinal and behavioural changes to be dependant on changing perceptions, as argued in Chapter 15. The element of goal-setting involved (see Chapter 19) made staff development the natural heir to Drucker’s earlier management by objectives (MBO), but took the notion one stage further. Instead of setting goals monitored by senior managers to ensure compatibility with organisational objectives, individuals were required to set goals compatible with their own aspirations and ‘needs’. By emphasising the intra-organisational construction of individual goals, staff development provides an effective gloss over managerial strategies for transforming learning, motivation and identity into influence and productivity.

Personal development forms and similar tools for profiling our work relationships are an integral part of organisational learning and development practices. They act as self-administered, continuously assessed personality, attitude and aptitude inventories, providing feedback to both management and staff. They facilitate the moulding of operational identities through the integration of functional activities into social comparison processes and hierarchical relationships. Profiling can be further reinforced by courses, trips and exchanges which act as rewards for correct behaviour, and the internalisation of group and organisational norms. Employers such as Ford Motors have offered exchanges to production workers: they visit and work in plants employing new production processes and those which are said to have good productivity and industrial relations records. Return visits presumably imbue others with the values that have made particular plants successful and of course highlight workers’ perceptions of their dispensability within the international division of labour. Exchanges can produce facilitation effects similar to those of team-building exercises where members of the same group or organisation are required to dress similarly and/or indulge in activities designed to increase group identification (see Chapter 20).

What systems such as staff development and CPD are predicated on is the belief

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that individual change within processes of organisational change is facilitated by behavioural technologies such as the LSI, profiling systems and so on. In the same fashion, organisational change is facilitated by strategic approaches to learning which emphasise generating the ‘right’ learning climate in organisations. There are many forms of organisational learning initiative, but we wish to focus on phenomena of the learning organisation as it is founded on the links we wish to go on to make between learning and change.

Learning organisations

The literature on what has come to be known as the ‘learning organisation’ is characterised by themes of strategic and self-managed change as a way of dealing with environmental uncertainty. The notion, which can be traced back to the work of Argyris and Schön (1978) on theories of action in organisational learning and to the work of Lewis (1984) and others on open learning and computer-based training, is based on the recognition:

that members of organisations must be equipped to create and sustain values, knowledge bases, processes, skills and systems which promote effective responses to change. This dictates the need for higher trust cultures, for responsive systems and knowledge workers who are capable of participating in making decisions and solving problems at point of discovery and without reliance on complex command and control systems. (West, 1994: 15)

Numerous writers including Senge, Lessem, Honey and Burgoyne have been involved in promoting the idea of a learning organisation, a phenomenon that John van Maanen of MIT has described as ‘what management in the twenty-first century will be about’ (MCB University Press circular advertising Learning Organisation journal).

Research on learning in social psychology was in the main individually-based, and the assimilation of such knowledge into a more collective notion such as the LO was difficult and only achieved at some cost. Analogies to individual learning used by leading organisational psychologists such as Argyris (1967) tended to rest on a physical/mental progression from infant passivity, dependency and submission to control, through to the maturity of reflection, foresight and responsibility for others. However as Mathews notes (1994: 288), the concept of the learning organisation is distinct from the learning processes of individual employees. Thus people embody learning in their own minds, but organisations have no ‘mind’ except in a metaphorical sense. Organisations need to develop institutional structures embodied in organisational routines through which experience can be gathered and accumulated. Such organisational memory can be manifested informally through culture or formally through official records, minutes of meetings and so on.

Organisational learning versus learning organisations

The critique of the learning organisation literature presented above is not, however, the whole story. Much of the discussion of learning in organisations nowadays comes under the heading of organisational learning, which like the learning organisation sounds on the surface like simple reification; organisations are not entities –

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therefore they cannot learn. However, as complex interactions of individuals and groups, and as flows of information and resources, organisations can be considered as ‘communities of practice’ (Brown and Duguid, 1991). As such they are arenas where both formal and informal learning takes place, where relevant knowledge is constructed, stored and transferred. How and whether organisational learning and learning organisations differ in relation to such a concept of organisation is seldom explored in mainstream texts.

Where differences are noted, they seem to centre on the formal/informal distinction as exemplified in the work of Jones and Hendry (1994). They associate organisational learning with traditional training regimes and HRM initiatives, and learning organisations with Pettigrew and Whipp’s (1991) notion of organisational capability, which is more in line with informal socialisation and experiential learning as discussed earlier. The important point here is to what extent both are instances of managed versus self-managed learning. We know that significant numbers of people in modern organisations learn to appropriate information technologies to their own use, learning much more than is required of them in their work. Thus the development of capabilities by organisational members will proceed in a tacit manner even where no formal training is given.

In the light of such self-directed empowerment, McHugh, Groves and Alker (1998) note that in operational terms there appears to be little in learning organisation initiatives that provides any real commitment to HRM strategies of mobilising consent:

The linkage to strategy demands support for flexibility of organisation and openended intrinsic commitment, but for the learner the ‘locus of control’ is still exogenous in that learning must be shown to achieve objectives related to their task and role. (McHugh, Groves and Alker, 1998: 218)

Thus, although characterised by factors such as emphases on self-management, matrix type structures, dedicated training support and flexibility in working practices (Sims, Fineman and Gabriel, 1993: 198), there is little practical difference between learning organisation initiatives and the content of traditional organisational learning. As such, the use of practices under these banners can also be viewed as yet another vehicle for achieving organisational change, or more accurately as Swieringa and Wierdsma (1992: 1) put it, for ‘the changing of behaviour’.

This can be exemplified by reference to earlier notions of open learning via computer-assisted learning (CAL). Fuller and Saunders (1990: 32–3) note three basic rationales to open access learning: the instrumental, based on simple access to training opportunities; the prescriptive, based on empowerment of individuals and groups; and the functional, based on cost-effectiveness. They argue that the prescriptive approach (that closest to the ideal of the learning organisation) is ‘likely to be inconsistent with company objectives’ and ‘inevitably constrained by commercial and organisational factors’: in other words, it will be managed learning. The implication here is that learning organisation initiatives will be dependant on ad hoc instrumental opportunities and functional imperatives. Thus even a sincere attempt to promote a learning organisation will face a tendency to slide back into Jones and Hendry’s organisational learning approach, all that is left of the learning organisation being the legitimating rhetoric of employee empowerment.

The idea of a learning organisation now becomes similar to the ‘morally

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sustaining ideas’ and ‘socially integrating myths’ through which Selznick characterises leadership (see Chapter 17). This is to be expected in that implementation of organisational learning can be firmly linked to that of ‘new-wave’ manufacturing techniques. Winfield and Kerrin (1994), in a survey of 60 Midlands manufacturers and a case study of Toyota in Derbyshire, note that the ‘continuous improvement programmes’ associated with organisational learning are deployed directly alongside TQM and JIT programmes. The introduction of such programmes is criticised for a lack of attention to ‘human resource issues’ (1994: 8), and learning systems and techniques complete the ‘whole package’ necessary for the effective utilisation of ‘new’ production practices. In a similar vein, Seely-Brown and Duguid (in Tsoukas, 1994c: 165–87) make important distinctions between ‘espoused’ and ‘actual practice’ in working and learning, Shrivastava (1983: 25) earlier noting a link between organisational learning and the development and introduction of new management information and control systems. The failed implementation of such systems was identified with a lack of concern by designers for existing socio-cultural norms and learning practices.

In its ties to the introduction of new working practices and disregard for subjective learning, the learning organisation would appear to devolve ‘into a simple goal-setting exercise underwritten by an appeal to the superordinate goal of organisational survival’ (McHugh, Groves and Alker, 1998: 218). As such it has little respect for the learning theory from which it claims descent, and is more properly seen as a tool of change and development practices, attempts to change behaviour and working practices through cultural initiatives, and more straightforward attitude change techniques. This is a reciprocal relationship in that the tools employed, for example Lewin’s unfreezing–refreezing model, are essentially developments of learning theory, in this case the notion of the learning curve. The identification of the individual’s ‘training needs’, in systems such as development profiling, provide the mechanisms through which public commitment to change is acquired. That such technologies of regulation are seldom related to any real concern for individual development is evidenced by the argument that learning initiatives can be short-circuited by what Easterby-Smith characterises as an ‘obsession with activity’ (1992: 28), and Senge (1992: 38) as a concern with ‘performing rather than learning’. This bias towards productivity and ‘bottom-line’ definitions of growth once again confirms the paucity of claims to increase the motivational content of work and refocuses commitment as simple compliance (see Chapter 19).

The difficulties and self-defeating nature of linking strategic organisational demands to learning and motivational factors must in the end lead us to question the extent to which systematic control of such factors is ever possible. However, such systematic control is exactly what is sought in the study of how we learn to collaborate with organisational transformation through the planning and implementation of change.

Changing the people?

Change, in both individual and organisational terms, provides the linkage between learning and attempts to harness the innovation processes regarded as critical to organisational success these days to the ‘bottom line’. Just as the exploration of learning in organisations requires consideration of socialisation processes, our accounts of innovation and change require us to consider issues of creativity and sustainability as in Figure 16.1.

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Learning

Creativity

Socialisation

Innovation Change

Sustainability

F I G U R E 1 6 . 1 L e a r n i n g, c h a n g e a n d i n n o v a t i o n

Models and processes

Most models of change are developments in one way or another of Lewin’s and/or Leavitt’s early models. Lewin’s (1951) force-field analysis of driving and restraining forces has found widespread practical application in its unfreeze–move–refreeze model, which itself is also applicable to learning and attitude change. Newer models seldom do more than add new variables to the list of factors assumed to influence responses to change (see Martin, 1998: 589–91). Rather like the content theories of motivation we will discuss in Chapter 19, they tell us about the what of change but little about the how. When the how of change processes is discussed, it is generally in prescriptive terms and concerned with managerial responses or styles. While employee resistance is continually invoked as a barrier to change (see Martin, 1998: 583–6), the issue of managerial resistance is rarely mentioned.

Other models such as that of French et al. (1985) specifically develop Lewin as a mechanism for planning and evaluating change processes. Unfreezing here involves preparing for change by gaining trust and developing team awareness. The movement phase evaluates the current position, developing aims, objectives and action plans. Implementation can overlap the unfreezing phrase, where for French et al. the important courses of action consist of stabilisation and review of the situation.

Leavitt’s (1965) people–task–technology–structure model is widely used to illustrate the interdependence of organisational variables in the process of managing change. Like the Lewin model, new variables such as strategy, environment or culture are routinely added to reflect current concerns (see Martin, 1998: 587, or Rollinson et al., 1998: 612–3). Strangely, one of the few developments of Leavitt’s model to highlight explicitly the role of the individual is the McKinsey 7-S framework of organisational analysis. Despite its genesis in the work of Peters and Waterman (1982, see Chapter 13) this model does highlight skills, staff and style as being of greater importance to change processes than strategy, systems and structure (shared values being the linking factor).

Collins (1998, Chapter 4), in his review of sociological perspectives on change, produces a cogent critique of what he terms the n-step models of change abounding in the literature. N-step models act as programmatic, recipe-style guides to the change process much as the French model cited above, Collins giving a typical simplified example as follows (1998: 83):

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1Develop strategy.

2Confirm top-level support.

3 Use project management approach.

4Communicate results.

These models are described as undersocialised, ‘in that they fail to acknowledge change as a social activity, involving people from diverse social groups, who will tend to interpret issues in different, and often quite divergent ways’ (1998: 82). Their rational, sequential and prescriptive nature (1998: 84) focuses mainly on the co-operative elements of organisation (1998: 87), where the ‘futile resistance’ of workers is centred around ‘poor communications or deficiencies in worker psychology’ (1998: 91). Opposition to ‘new business realities’ is ideologically recast as resistance by workers who are ‘lacking the psychological make-up to deal with change’ (1998: 92). Thus, according to Collins, real people are absent from n-step models (1998: 96) or appear to be ‘docile, malleable and altruistic . . . while managers appear to be strong, creative and decisive’ (1998: 97).

What is apparent here is that, as with the study of personality (see Chapter 15), the concern is not for the uniqueness of the individual experience of the change process but for consistent modes of response that can lead to predictive and/or prescriptive categories. Such categories are judged against outcomes and these in turn are judged against increasingly standardised sets of criteria, for example, ‘benchmarking’ (see Rollinson et al., 1998: 614–15). Where models (such as Lewis, 1991) do attempt to account for subjective factors of individual feelings, skills and knowledge, they still tend to set subjective and personal factors against objective and task-related aspects of the change process. Thus they are still intended as tools to aid managers to ‘imbue the person with the courage to confront his or her feelings about the change’ (Rollinson et al., 1998: 614–15).

Such examples illustrate why reading the change literature is such a frustrating experience. There are many models, innumerable prescriptions and case studies, but little that is truly informative. It also embodies a recurring tension between selfdirected and imposed change. As Hollway notes in her commentary on Argyris’s work on interpersonal skills training:

How do you ensure change without imposing it? You convince the individual who is the object of the change that they are choosing it. This is what I mean by subjectification. Argyris calls it growth. (Hollway, 1991: 95)

An organisational capacity for change is often reduced to an individual’s willingness to ‘be motivated’ or to ‘accept ownership’. Such thinking neglects the complex mixture of identities and interests at work.

Staff and managers within public organisations are often trying to deal with change on many levels at once, trying to balance conflicting demands, trying to sustain a sense of personal worth and purpose within large and confusing organisations, to construct an identity out of the elements of professional, manager, citizen or activist that make sense of trying to feel good about what they do. They are working within the constraints of