The Spatial Construction of Organization

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The spatial construction of organization

Advances in Organization Studies Advances in Organization Studies includes cutting-edge work in comparative management and intercultural comparison, studies of organizational culture, communication, and aesthetics, as well as in the area of interorganizational collaboration — strategic alliances, joint ventures, networks and collaborations of all kinds, where comparative, intercultural, and communicative issues have an especial salience. Purely theoretical as well as empirically based studies are included. General Editors Stewart Clegg School of Management University of Technology Sydney Quay Street, Haymarket P.O. Box 123 Broadway, NSW 2007 Australia [email protected]

Volume 12 The spatial construction of organization by Tor Hernes

Ralph Stablein Department of Management 214 Massey University 11 222 Private Bag Palmerston North New Zealand [email protected]


Tor Hernes Norwegian School of Management

John Benjamins Publishing Company Amsterdam/Philadelphia

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TM

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences – Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ansi z39.48-1984.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Tor Hernes The spatial construction of organization / Tor Hernes. p. cm. (Advances in Organization Studies, issn 1566–1075 ; v. 12) Includes bibliographical references and indexes. 1. Organizational sociology--Philosophy. 2. Spatial behavior. I. Title. II. Series. HM786.H47 2004 302.3’5’01-dc22 isbn 90 272 3312 8 (Eur.) / 1 58811 478 3 (US) (Hb; alk. paper)

2003063846

© 2004 – John Benjamins B.V. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm, or any other means, without written permission from the publisher. John Benjamins Publishing Co. · P.O. Box 36224 · 1020 me Amsterdam · The Netherlands John Benjamins North America · P.O. Box 27519 · Philadelphia pa 19118-0519 · usa

To my parents, Brit and Ørnulf Hernes

Table of contents

Acknowledgements

ix

Preface

xi

Introduction: Making maps — and mapping the structure of the book

xv

Chapter 1 The subject is organization

1

Chapter 2 Between form and action: The case for contexts

19

Chapter 3 Organization as context

41

Chapter 4 From context to space

59

Chapter 5 Boundaries in fields of spaces

77

Chapter 6 Physical space: Organization by regulation and binding

85

Chapter 7 Mental space: Organization by thought

101

Chapter 8 Social space: Organization by bonding

115

Chapter 9 Spatial dynamics

125

viii Table of contents

Chapter 10 Putting space into perspective

141

Bibliography

149

Name index

159

Subject index

163

Acknowledgements The work on this book has represented a space in itself. It has been a physical space, fitting words and thoughts into time, a computer screen and between various work assignments. It has been a mental space, with adding, abandoning and reshuffling of ideas, construction of lines of reasoning and seemingly endless attempts at connecting with the huge and colourful world of thoughts about organization. This space of thought has been shaped and reshaped through dialogues with a number of people who, in various ways, have enabled me to see things differently (but not always succeeded). I have benefited from conversations with a number of people, including Kjell Arne Røvik, Tor Paulson and Per Ingvar Olsen. The collaboration with Tore Bakken on Luhmann’s autopoietic systems perspective has been an important eye-opener to many aspects of social systems. I am grateful also to many colleagues at the Norwegian School of Management for keeping open stimulating spaces of debate. These persons have in their own thoughtful ways helped me improve my understanding of what I am trying to do. Thanks also to Stewart Clegg for his helpful comments on the present manuscript. I wish to extend special thanks to Tor Paulson, who, with his enthusiasm, generosity and sound advice, has been invaluable in the ups and downs that a project like this entails. My inner family space, Evy, Tania and Maya, provides just the right mixture between sheltering and turmoil to keep a project like this going. Finally, thanks to the Norwegian Non-fiction Writers and Translators Association (NFF) for providing financial support to the project of writing the book.

Preface All that allegories intend to say is merely that the incomprehensible is incomprehensible, and that we already know. But the problems we struggle with every day are a different matter. On this subject, a man once asked: “Why such stubbornness? If you only followed the allegories, you yourselves would become allegories and in that way solve all your everyday problems.” Another said: “I bet that is also an allegory.” The first said: “You have won”. The second said: “Alas, but only allegorically.” The first said: “No, in real life. Allegorically you have lost.” Kafka, in Manguel (1996: 85)

The above quote from Franz Kafka, who in another text (The trial) has perhaps left us with one of the most intriguing stories of organization ever written, points towards the sometimes invisible and volatile distinction between “reality” and “allegory”. As organization researchers, we spend a lot of time trying to decipher allegories, and our main allegory is modernity’s pervasive and omnipresent phenomenon — “organizations”. We spend a great deal of our time describing and comparing entities that fall into the category of organizations. Our tools have been developed over time to help us define what we are looking at and describe it in the best possible terms for other organization researchers. As long as we “find” an organization and we apply the tools that have been developed for the purpose, we are doing just fine. Our tools enable us to explain processes such as power, learning, identity, decision-making and structuring and many others taking place within what we define as the “organizational boundaries”. The problem is that there are other phenomena out there connected to work, production, collaboration and development that could also be labelled “organization” if we are willing to put aside the most common organization allegories for a while. This is what Weick (1996) alluded to when he urged organization researchers to “drop our tools”, in the ASQ 40 years anniversary issue. Alas, we rarely drop our tools, maybe because our tools are too close to what we study. Therefore we fear that if we drop our tools, we might lose the object of our study. The “organization” imagery often becomes both the tool and the object. Hence we do not readily see things that fall outside the “organization” imagery because our imageries and methodological tools do not allow us to see them, much less explain them. Consequently, our students do not get to know about these “other things” that could also be dubbed “organization”.

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If we were to describe diversity of organizational forms, one approach would be to take a step back and investigate the basic nature of organization, before cultures are created, before roles are distributed, before decision patterns are established. What then does “organization” look like? Some might say, “well, here you are trying to take us for a ride, because before these things are in place, there is no organization.” Well, it depends on whether we would agree to move the goalposts. Are we to let ourselves be trapped by our allegories, or can we use reality as a vantage point for changing our allegories, the question that the above citation from Kafka opens up for? The question is this: How interesting is an organization once it has “become” one? Should we not search in all those processes that become something else, or go even further and study those processes that do not materialize into organizations? An organization may well be defined as a structure, a culture, a decision system, as well as many other things. This gives it a definite, bounded shape that we can identify without too much difficulty. It has boundaries that we refer to as the organizational boundaries, and it is inside these boundaries that we normally concentrate our studies. This is what in this book is referred to as organization in the bounded sense. It is what the majority of books on organization are about: what happens inside organizations. Even Karl Weick, who in 1979 urged us to throw out the noun “organization” and to replace it with the verb “organize”, wrote 16 years later a book entitled “Sensemaking in organizations” (italics added). But what happens if we for an instant depart from the bounded notion and search for “something” that is “organization” but which is not tied to “the organization”? If we look for mechanisms that may or may not exist inside organization boundaries, yet would qualify as “organization”? Let us move from the allegory to reality. In my work, I move in and out of contexts of changing nature, stability and intensity. These contexts sometimes connect to one another, at other times they do not (or at least I do not see how they connect). Some of them evolve and persist inside the organization (in my case, a management school), at other times they transgress the organizational boundaries or, conversely, they may move in the other direction — from the outside to inside the school. The management school consists of many such contexts, some of which management controls, and others which it does not control. Some of these contexts are created by rules, others by social relations, others again by some shared idea, such as a research approach. Herein lies the complexity of the school. This book replaces the term context with the term “space”. It works from the tenet that organization is a composite of spaces. Spaces may be of a mental, social or physical nature; moreover, they emerge, evolve and reproduce themselves in different ways. Spaces also interact with one another, often across, but not irrespective of, organizational boundaries. The term “space” is deliberately left open as a

Preface xiii

flexible term. Emphasis is more on how it emerges, evolves, maintains and transforms than whether it corresponds to preconceived macro-constructs, such a culture, norms, structure and others. The imagery of space, which is currently subjected to increased interest among organization scholars, is here suggested as a tool that for some situations might replace the tool of “the organization”. It is far from being an alien construct to organization researchers. On the contrary, as the book hopefully demonstrates, it is maybe the most salient construct that we have used, albeit in implicit ways. Yet, because we have been busy describing organizations with other terms, the meaning of “space” as applied to organization has not been subject to systematic exploration. This book is an attempt at contributing towards a more rigorous and active use of the imagery of space. The hope is that as some tools are dropped, the tool of space may be ready at hand to be picked up.

Introduction Making maps — and mapping the structure of the book On maps and organization studies James Cowan has written a beautiful book entitled A mapmaker’s dream, where he takes us through the diary of the sixteenth-century Venetian monk Fra Mauro. Cowan came across the monk’s diary when searching through collected items in an ancient monastery. From the monastery of San Michele di Murano, Fra Mauro attempted to realize his life’s work, which was to draw what he hoped might be a definitive map of the world. Mauro was cartographer to the Court of Venice but probably did not travel himself. Instead, over the years he received in his monastery travellers from various walks of life, such as scholars, clerics, merchants, officers and adventurers, who came to recount their travels. Their anecdotes were carefully assessed and then recorded by Mauro. Although Mauro was a cartographer by profession, his project was not to create just a physical map of the world, but one that could capture the depth of human existence on a world scale. Thus his recordings take on dimensions of life and death, fate, culture and religion. Places on Mauro’s map are not mere physical locations. Rather, they are places that take on their own significance and become unique collections of history, tradition and mythology. This obviously sets Mauro aside from what most of us associate with the work of cartographers. If your association is anything like mine, I see cartographers as people who provide fairly unambiguous models from fairly unambiguous terrain. Mauro’s project is to make a map of a terrain that is not a physical entity. Its elements are the creations of humans, they are ambiguous, accounts are contradictory and the number of deductions possible nearly infinite. Still, making a map can help create a terrain that did not exist before, because, as Mauro says, out of the meeting of minds between cartographer and adventurer realities are created: Together cartographer and adventurer argue over distances and routes while silently acknowledging that these are really only diversions, since we are struggling to make sense of disparate knowledge. We are like oar and rowlock, trying to exact a measure of leverage from another, even as we acknowledge that we are probably travelling toward the same destination. (Cowan, 1996: 7)

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If Mauro’s work puts him aside from cartographers, it does in some ways bring him closer to the world of organization research. Making sense of organization is very much like making a map that becomes terrain in turn. I will argue in this book that much of early organization research tried to remain faithful to what was seen as the terrain, terrain being very much the formal structure of organization as it was seen by organizational leaders and students of administration. Partly for this reason, maps and terrains have corresponded rather poorly for many of us who want to arrive at different explanations of organization. Latter years have witnessed a debate about whether there is to be any terrain at all, and many would say that “if there is no terrain there can be no map”. Anyway, some might ask how, in a boundaryless, globalized reality, can there be a terrain of organization? The answer for some is then to retract into the immediate context of the individual and construct the realities from there. We may well take issue with the latter, as well. We can no longer rely on there being a terrain, but neither should we assume that if there are no terrains then nothing could be created. Instead we can learn from our Venetian cartographer and try to create maps that make many possible “terrains” come alive. This demands that we neither fear turning the terrain into the map, nor turning maps into terrains. The step I suggest we take in this book is to make a map of organization that does not follow the conventional contours that mainstream organization studies has drawn of the organizational landscape. I suggest that we do not assume that organizations exist, but that “organization” is formed out of a need to create contexts for human action and interaction. Such contexts are not necessarily created from a need to “organize” in the sense that goals, plans, roles etc. are drawn up and that subsequent formation of beliefs, culture ensue as a result of “the organization”. Instead we leave open the possibility that social and mental processes form settings in which functional organization may be possible, which again enables further evolution. Nor are contexts necessarily formed within the boundaries of existing organizations. Instead we are concerned with understanding the basis for how contexts for action and interaction — what I call space — emerge.

The structure of the book The map of the present book is drawn in the hope that a convincing argument is made for a spatial view of organization. The road is far from being straight, and I am afraid that it takes the reader, not just on a winding trip, but that it may also feel like a bumpy road. Let me start with the aim of the book. Its main aim is to provide a basis for how organization can be understood as space. There has recently been a marked

Introduction xvii

increase in the use of the space metaphor, not just in the more generic social sciences, such as sociology and social anthropology, but also in subject areas of a more applied nature, such as the design of electronic landscapes. This implies that there is a wide range of possible contexts — virtual and real — that frame our actions and interactions. A justification is that increased complexity and mobility, with the added dimension of virtuality in the world of work, the spaces that we construct for our actions and interactions are not necessarily congruent with the spaces created as organizations. Take, for example, the increased use of temporary staff agencies discussed by Garsten (2003). Temporary workers are employed by one company, but most of the time they work physically inside other companies. As employees report to different employers for different tasks, a number of questions present themselves, notably related to loyalty, identity, motivation and conflict. The point is that they do not at any time “belong” to one or other of the companies — including their employment agency. Instead, they operate in a series of different contexts — with people, ideas and physical constraints and resources — which to varying extents they influence and which to varying extents influence what they do. It is worth quoting Garsten on this point: The temporary employment agency reveals a lower sense of coherence in terms of space than what is normally attributed to organizations; they are to a large extent distributed across space; and contract and expand more easily than many other types of business organizations. They may, by analogy, be seen as “diasporic organizations”, whose members are widely distributed but maintain some sense of connection to the organizational center. (Garsten, 2003: 249)

It is worth noting that Garsten draws a distinction between “organization” and “organizations”, allowing “organization” to include a looser mechanism of coordination over time and space. The example of temporary staff is but one of many possible forms of organization. The distinction is usefully seen in relation to Ahrne’s (1990: 36) definition of organizations as “sociological units” characterized by a higher specificity of structure and coordination than their surrounding environments (Garsten, 2003: 247). Ahrne’s definition is useful because it refers to a higher specificity of structure, which I take to mean formal structure, and in particular the division of work. An implication is that a variety of contexts may be considered, not only contexts which are of lower (formal) structural specificity, but also contexts that are higher on other types of specificity (such as social). When dealing with space and organization, two immediate options present themselves. One option consists of considering organizations as consisting of spaces. The literature here is far from negligible, particularly on the themes of physical design and aesthetics, but others, such as the social space of groups, are also relevant. Another option is to take a step further back and to consider organization as space and say that any act of organizing is about creating a space for human action and

xviii The spatial construction of organization

interaction. In other words, space is explored as an alternative, or a proxy, for what most textbooks define as organization. It is the latter option that has been chosen for the present book. The choice is consequential for several levels of analysis, and this is what makes the road of this particular book tortuous. If we consider organization as space, it imposes first and foremost that a conception of “organization” is chosen that allows for a spatial version of organization to be elaborated. This is done in the first two chapters of the book, where an understanding of “organization” is developed that can be used for an interpretation of organization as space. Until Chapter 3 the term “context” is purposely used as a proxy for organization. Hence the reader will see that I do not get to a discussion of space before Chapter 4, where it is argued why and how space may be understood as organization. In doing this, I draw upon the important treatise on space in the social sciences by Lefebvre, which I view as an important window onto the various aspects of space. Chapters 1–4 are in many ways meant as a way of clearing the ground in organization theory for viewing organization as space. From Chapter 5 onwards, space per se is reviewed in relation to organization theory. Chapter 5 includes a discussion of the boundaries of spaces, whereas Chapters 6, 7 and 8 discuss organization theory in the light of three types of space respectively: physical, social and mental space (based on Lefebvre). Having made the three-pronged distinction between physical, social and mental space, a more integrated view is taken in Chapter 9, where interaction between these three types of space is discussed. The final chapter takes a critical look at the treatment of space in the book. Chapter 1 is focused on ontology, and aims to clear the ground for the use of the term “organization”, which in turn will form the transition to “context” and “space”. To use the term “organization” rather than “organizations” invites the use of the indeterminate and opens up consideration of forms of framing human action and interaction that are not readily dealt with by theories of organizations. For a theory of space to be applied, it is first and foremost important to liberate the term “organization” from the conception of organizations as monolithic entities. It is argued in this chapter that organization theory has paid much (maybe too much) attention to “organizations” (the plural form) or “the organization” (the determinate form). “Organization” does not abide by the distinctive form of “organizations”, or by the identity of “the organization”. Instead, it is seen as a context for human action and interaction. “Organization” is unbounded by organizational boundaries — it exists across, outside or inside organizational boundaries. The features that distinguish organization from organizations is that it is emergent, unfinished, multiple and amorphous.

Introduction xix

Chapter 2 is focused on epistemology, and locates a way of studying organization, which is inspired by works in contemporary European sociology. The argument is put forward that between two dominant positions in organization theory, referred to as the perspective of “form” and “actions” respectively, the contours of a “third” approach can be discerned in works, notably by Latour, Giddens, Bourdieu, Luhmann and Elias. Whereas form refers to structure, and actions refer to process, works such as those referred to reject many of the dichotomies represented by the said divide. Instead they open up an approach that views the evolution of organization in an explanatory rather than determinist fashion. Explanation of evolution over time and space is made possible as the levels of action and form (referred to as context) come close enough to each other to interact. Chapter 3 builds directly on the two previous chapters, in the sense that it develops a notion of organization as context for action and interaction. The idea of context allows flexibility in describing variety of organization. It also connects actions closer to form so that a recursive relationship can be conceptualized between the two. Following on from the discussion of the sociological works in Chapter 2, four questions are brought to the surface as pertaining to contexts. First, the question of emergence relates to the conditions under which contexts develop. Second, the question of history and time relates to how properties of contexts are created over time. Third, the question of time-space extension relates to properties of context that enable them to reproduce themselves over space and time. Fourth, the question of the subject relates to the different ways of conceptualising the subject in relation to the evolution of contexts. Chapter 4 makes the transition from context to space. The idea of context suffers from two connotations, notably that of immutability and that of inwardness. In order to better understand complexities of contemporary organizational landscapes, we are in a need of a more dynamic concept that allows for external feature to enter into the analysis and also opens up for its transitional qualities to be catered for. A candidate is that of “space’, which is a basic construct in organization theory, but which has not been explicitly referred to as such. Instead, space is dressed up in various forms, such as culture, structure and many others. In this chapter we go the other way. Instead of converting space into organizational constructs, as we know them, a start is made of treating space as a “generic” construct for organization. Drawing upon Lefebvre’s work a distinction is drawn up between physical, social and mental space. These three categories form the basis for the remainder of the book. Chapter 5 is focused on the boundaries of space, with the assumption that boundaries influence how spaces interact. A framework is developed which distinguishes between boundaries as distinction, ordering and threshold. Spaces of different

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textures with differing boundary characteristics interact, and the interaction takes place in what we may refer to as “spatial fields”. Chapters 6, 7 and 8 discuss three types of space applied to the study of organization, namely physical, mental and social space. The categories are derived partly from Lefebvre’s (1991) discussion of space, but suggest specific interpretations applicable to organization. The chapters discuss how each of the three types of space is reflected in key developments in the history of organization studies. A critique is made against a background of the four questions identified in Chapter 3 (on emergence, reproduction, history and time and the subject). Chapter 9 identifies dynamics evolving from spaces interacting over time and space. Whereas Chapter 6, 7 and 8 treat spatial types in isolation from one another, Chapter 9 considers interaction between different types of space. Consistently with the overall perspective of the book, we work from the idea that any formation of space necessarily affects further space formation. Recognizing that the attempt at conceptualizing spatial dynamics necessarily becomes reductionist, attempts are made at identifying some modes in which they may be seen to take place. Spaces interact with one another in both time and space. In time, the modes of substitution and grafting are suggested, whereas in space the modes of aesthetics and intensity are suggested. Chapter 10 relates the discussion of space to selected concerns in organization studies. Space is discussed particularly in relation to human behaviour, time, power and formal versus informal organization. Throughout his endeavours and his encounters with travellers, Mauro found himself facing a number of dilemmas. He truly learned that building a map from man’s actions rather than the creations of Mother Nature was no easy task, but a road full of obstacles. Maybe for this reason his map has actually never been found. Maybe he gave up on the way. What has been found is his diary where he tells us of the experience of establishing the contents of the map. It is still possible that his map exists at the bottom of some ancient library yet to be uncovered. Anyway, let us assume that the map exists. It makes looking for the terrain seem all the more exciting.

Chapter 1

The subject is organization “There will only be “organization” — as different from one another as a petroleum refinery, a cathedral, and a suburban bungalow are from one another….” (Drucker, 1997)

This chapter draws the distinction between “organizations”, “the organization” and “organization”. In other words, we distinguish between the plural, the determinate and the indeterminate. Organization theory refers frequently to the proper-name form, i.e. “organizations”. Within each of these “organizations” we find what is commonly referred to as “the organization”. “The organization” is taken as a relatively monolithic mechanism with overall characteristics of structure, functions, boundaries, goals etc, which is the dominant form of organizing of the proper-name organization. However, if we scrutinize them more closely, we will find that there are multiple forms of organization that emerge, connect and co-evolve. This is what we refer to as “organization” in the indeterminate form. “Organization” is not seen as being circumscribed by organizational boundaries, but is defined more loosely as contexts for action and interaction. The argument is advanced that “organization” may be described as emergent, unfinished, multiple and amorphous.

“The subject is organizations” (note the plural form) is the title of the first chapter in W. Richard Scott’s book Organizations — rational, natural and open systems. The use of the plural is characteristic of much organization research; organizations are seen as entities bounded in time and space. They have an outside that allows us to label them or classify them. Their boundaries also have an inside consisting of traits and processes that we associate with organization. The title of this chapter is almost identical to that of Scott, but does not have the “s” that marks the plural form of organizations. The reason is that instead of focusing on organizations as empirical entities (Clegg and Hardy, 1996) we wish to draw attention to the underlying dynamics of organization itself. Others, such as Cooper and Law (1995) and Weick (1979) draw the distinction between organizing and organizations, wishing to contrast the contextual, local and emergent with the reified, stable and structural. For reasons that will be argued later on I do not regard the organizations–organizing dualism to be entirely satisfactory, as it leaves no room between the level of

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actions and the level of structure. Organizing, as it is commonly conceptualized, confines the organization to the level of actions and excludes the possibility of contexts for actions that lie between actions and the organization. This argument will be pursued in the following chapter. The reader may ask if making a fuss about the “s” is not an exercise in academic hair-splitting, an attempt at making much ado about nothing, and whether the plural and the determinate do not incorporate what we want to know about organization? Not quite. This is a question about what we choose to study. And even more importantly, what we study dictates what we do not study. When we look for reified entities that we refer to as “organizations” with names attached to them, and associated traits such as networks or bureaucracies, we see just that. Organization theorists tend to cling on to the circumscription of the organization by boundaries. Katz and Kahn (1978: 31), for example, argue that without the assumption of closure in the sense of boundaries the organization “would no longer be differentiated from its environment and would cease to exist as a distinct system”. In today’s increasingly virtual world we should at least let go experimentally of “the organization as a distinct system” and explore the more amorphous and multifaceted nature of organization.

Organizations When we speak of “organizations” we refer to entities that have proper names or belong to categories of organizations for which we have distinct labels (such as banks, hospitals, voluntary organizations etc) — what we may call institutions. Organizations have names that allow them to be identified and the naming sometimes allows us to say something about how they work and how they act. They are named entities that are distinct — there is only one Shell, one UN and one Benetton — or at least this is how we tend to see them. This is because they have distinct histories, they act distinctly in society and they may have distinct people at the top, such as Kofi Annan, the UN Secretary- General. Another way of considering them as proper-name organizations is to label them by types, such as hospitals (Ruef and Scott, 1998), law firms (Winroth, 2000) or non-profit organizations (Galaskiewicz and Bielefeld, 1998). Proper-name organizations have boundaries around them that make them distinct in relation to other organizations. The distinction refers principally to the image they have in society, and what this distinction entails. For example, getting recruited by Shell means crossing the boundaries into the world of Shell with all the connotations that this entails, such as petroleum industry, large company, international, career prospects, etc. The boundaries are primarily boundaries of identity.

The subject is organization

We are not so much interested in how they are built up as we are in what they represent. For example, the organization is increasingly conflated with the brand it represents and when we speak of the organization we in fact speak of the brand. We tend to be interested in Nike, being a sportswear manufacturer, from the point of view of how its practices and rhetoric harmonize with sports ideals, and less in how Nike is structured as an organization. Sports is basically meant to represent fair play, solidarity and friendship, according to the mission of the International Olympic Committee. Although these ideals are lofty in relation to what some of us associate with sports, there is an idea of sports having an element of fairness. Now, returning to Nike, the company has come under severe attack in the columns of public opinion due to its labour practices in countries such as Indonesia. It is useful to cite Klein (2000) on this point: Nike CEO Phil Knight has long been a hero of the business schools. Prestigious academic publications such as the Harvard Business Review have lauded his pioneering marketing techniques, his understanding of branding and his early use of outsourcing. Countless MBA candidates and other students of marketing and communications have studied the Nike formula of “brands, not products.” So when Phil Knight was invited to be a guest speaker at the Stanford University Business School — Knight’s own alma mater — in May 1997, the visit was expected to be one in a long line of Nike love-ins. Instead, Knight was greeted by a crowd of picketing students, and when he approached the microphone he was taunted with chants of “Hey Phil, off the stage. Pay your workers a living wage.” The Nike honeymoon had come to a grinding halt. (Klein, 2000: 365)

The example illustrates how organizations as social actors arouse attention in society and why it is important to study them in this capacity. Recent studies of organizations that try to establish relationships between what they represent in society and what they actually do, include critical studies of greening policies of companies. Others study safety, or rather try to establish in the aftermath of disasters how internal processes may have led to sub-optimal safety practices or standards. Common to such studies is how organizations strive to retain a balance between an image (such as health, environment and safety) and the actions they actually engage in. “Proper-name organizations” cannot escape such attention. They are forever powerful in society. They create wealth and well-being, but they also constitute risks to society. Whereas critical studies may try to reveal paradoxes in the relationship between espoused philosophies and actions or practices, a less critical and more utilitarian view is taken in studies seeking to analyse actions taken by organizations from an economic viewpoint. In addition to being bearers of distinctive identities in society, proper-name organizations are economic actors who pursue strategies, emit policies, enter into mergers, make investments and effect product launches. For

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example, we speak of the UN acting when intervening in a country. Likewise we speak of Shell prospecting for petroleum or gas, or we speak of IBM launching a new laptop computer. Such studies are predominately economic in nature, searching to tie the proper-name organization to its products, strategies or services. In organization studies, the perspective of organizational ecology has done much to try to relate performance to organizational characteristics. In such studies, organizations are seen to be parts of populations with certain unifying common characteristics. From the population characteristics inferences may be drawn about what types of organizations prosper and which ones do not. Hence, proper-name organizations are studies from at least two perspectives. Whereas critical studies search for contradictions and paradoxes, utilitarian studies try to reveal patterns to explain strategic behaviour or performance. In each of the cases “the organization” refers principally to its named identity in society.

“The organization” Proper-name organizations are essentially viewed as actors, either as occupiers of designated roles in society or as economic actors, and analyses are performed with either two of these in mind. When we wish to describe how a proper-name organization functions internally, we refer to “its organization”. When looking at “the organization” we leave the level of the organization as a unified socio-economic actor and enter the structuring of its internal world. Over several decades of organization theory development, parameters have been developed to study “the organization”. Early studies were concerned with aspects of formal structure, notably parameters such as integration, differentiation and centralization. These structural parameters were explored in extensive studies by The Aston Group (e.g. Pugh and Hickson, 1976). Blau (1970) among others. Since the 1970s, studies have concentrated on factors other than formal structure, such as organizational culture (Schein, 1985). Correlation does not need to be made only to proper-name organizations, but also to types of organizations. In a much cited study by Lawrence and Lorsch (1967), for example, they revealed differences in structuring between organizations in industries imposing different rates of change. Lawrence and Lorsch studied three different types of industries; containers (attributed low rates of change), food (attributed medium rates of change) and plastics (attributed high rates of change). The principal findings of Lawrence and Lorsch were that forms performing well tended to have a high degree of differentiation combined with integrative functions. An entirely different study, but also one that brings out differences between types of organizations, is that of Rothschild-Whitt (1979), who spent time studying


the inside of five different “collectivist” organizations. In contrasting collectivist organization with bureaucratic organization she found that the two forms of organization differed in at least eight different ways: Authority, rules, social control, social relations, recruitment and advancement, incentive structure, social stratification and differentiation. At the level of social behaviour she found, for example, that in collectivist organizations members would tend to perceive their workplaces as more intense than in bureaucratic organizations, concluding that this will render interpersonal tensions more endemic in collectivist organizations. She also noted that norms of consensual decision-making and the intimacy of face-to-face decision-making might make conflict more difficult to absorb. Such studies typically try and say something about what the internal organised world of proper name organizations looks like. When we connect “the organization’ to “organizations’ we establish correlations between what we see as a dominant mode of organising of the proper name organization. The proper name organization may exhibit particular characteristics that trigger interest in specific aspects of its internal world. For example, we connect bureaucracy to the UN. The dominant form of organising also gets related to actions of the organization. In the case of the UN, for example, its inability to act swiftly in emergency situations has sometimes been attributed its extensive red tape. Studies of “the organization” imply looking for a common denominator, a dominating logic of organizing which describes the proper name organization. More often than not it implies pursuing a trait that supposedly pertains to the proper-name organization and investigating it as though it applies throughout it. When studying culture in this way, for example, it implies searching for those values, norms, artefacts etc. that seem to apply throughout the organization. Thus, when studying the culture at Shell, we search for common denominators for values, norms and artefacts that apply more or less throughout Shell, common denominators than can help us explain many of its actions. A cultural study that serves as an example is Martin, Knopoff and Beckman’s (1998) study of The Body Shop. The Body Shop, founded by Anita Roddick, combines a philosophy of environmentally friendly products with corporate values of personal well-being and community building. According to Martin, Knopoff and Beckman, they do so quite successfully in managing to develop a culture relatively free of bureaucracy while allowing staff (mostly women) to express their emotionality. Studies locating “the organization” within the proper-name organization have been — and will continue to be — essential to the study of organizations. First, they locate organizations in various corners of the society and the economy, which helps us gain overviews of where they are, how they act and how they influence the ways we live. Thompson’s (1967) seminal work, for example, shows us, through his careful and stylish analysis, how organizations as actors can be expected to act

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in order to retain some degree of instrumental rationality in a complex world where they do not set the agenda. When we extend our study of organizations from industry, public administration and services to sectors such as the media and sports, we are in a position to better understand the actions of actors such as CNN, The Times, The International Olympic Committee, Manchester United and many others. Second, studies locating “the organization” within proper-name organizations help us classify shapes and sizes in which we perceive organizations as existing. They tell us, for example, how organizations shrink and out-source activities, concentrating on their core competencies. Such observations enable us again to ask pertinent questions about employment policies, industrial democracy and home– work boundaries (Nippert-Eng 1996), to name but a few. Early and influential studies, such as Chandler’s (1962) study of the spread of the multi-divisional form (the “M-form”) not only located a form of organization within strategies of international firms. It also opened up questions such as “where does the M-form come from?” Chandler’s study is based on the idea that the M-form follows naturally from the strategies particular to large diversified and multinational firms. This assumption gets questioned by Fligstein’s (1985) study of the diffusion of the M-form in firms between 1919 and 1979, in which he suggests that the spread of the M-form is partly explained by strategy, but also by imitation. In other words, managers structure firms as a ”best way” to pursue strategies, but they may also do it by observing and adopting what other firms do successfully. Thus the localization and the classification of organizations help us formulate questions that we might not otherwise have asked. When we classify organizations by certain criteria we become aware when our criteria no longer apply, which encourages us to push the boundaries of our inquiry. For example, when our image of the multinational corporation of a large unified entity no longer applies, as argued by Morgan, Hull Kristensen and Whitley (2001), we are forced to search for alternative frameworks of interpretation. Their book is interesting in that it shows how large multinational firms are at the same time fragmented while somehow acting in a unified way. In the book Morgan, as well as Hull Kristensen and Zeitlin and others, conclude that explanations of how tensions, paradoxes and conflicts are acted out and resolved are to be found by studying internal dynamics over time and space. By considering organizations to exist as achieved, identifiable states, we are equipped with a platform for correlational analytical work. This takes me to the next point. When looking to describe “the organization” inside the proper-name organization we choose to study what takes place within the boundaries of the proper-name organization. We assume that what we study takes place within the borders of the organization; for example, that cultural or structural traits:


– – –

are unique to the proper-name organization in question; apply throughout the organization; remain fairly stable.

In other words, what this means is that we search for some dominant, achieved state within the boundaries of the proper-name organization. We draw an imaginary line based on where the organization starts and where it stops. Within this borderline we assume the organization to exist in a fairly homogeneous and stable state that we take to represent the organization in question. This enables us to compare the organization to other organizations. It also enables us to describe what goes on inside the boundaries. The assumption of organization as bounded form is thus one that enables a number of important observations. However, it is also a constraining assumption. Drawing a line is making a distinction between what is and what is not. We establish categories that exist because they are seen as being internally homogeneous and mutually differentiable. It is important to be aware that to draw a boundary is done out of analytic convenience (Pfeffer and Salancik 1978: 30), and not so much because it reflects a natural empirical reality. Foucault, in his erudite analysis of the evolution of human knowledge, alerts us to be mindful when we draw dividing-lines in our analysis. He asks, in respect to historical analysis: We may wish to mark off a period; but have we the right to establish symmetrical breaks at two points in time in order to give an appearance of continuity and unity to the system we place between them? (Foucault, 1994: 50)

What Foucault is questioning is not so much the drawing of dividing-lines, as this is what essentially enables analysis. What he cautions against is ignoring that the drawing of dividing-lines lends appearance, which we should not take for granted. The danger of letting arbitrariness set precedents for analysis through boundary drawing is well articulated by Bateson: If you ask anybody about the localization and boundaries of the self, these confusions are immediately displayed. Or consider a blind man with a stick. Where does the blind man’s self begin? At the tip of the stick? At the handle of the stick? Or at some point halfway up the stick? These questions are nonsense, because the stick is a pathway along which differences are transmitted under transformation, so that to draw a delimiting line across this pathway is to cut off a part of the systemic circuit which determines the blind man’s locomotion. (Bateson, 1972: 318)

Therefore, we owe it to our analysis to investigate what happens if the analytical boundary was drawn differently. Therefore, notwithstanding the merits of studying organizations as bounded entities, once we draw boundaries for analytical purposes

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we owe it to ourselves to think about what we leave out in our analysis when we assume bounding. Bittner (1965), in his discussion of the concept of organization, makes precisely this point: that in order to assert anything we must leave some things unsaid. Such things, says Bittner, stand under the ceteris paribus clause. Bittner’s point, however, is that the use of the ceteris paribus clause is restricted, and that its contents are always open to scrutiny (page 244). In other words, we do well to reflect on organization in the absence of space and time boundaries. Such an approach allows us to provide explanations of how forms of organization come into being and evolve. From this we may be in a position to understand how some seemingly achieved or dominant states develop. The point resonates with Morgan who, from studying multinational firms, observes that: In complex organizations such as multinationals with multiple sites of production, different sorts of managers and workers, and economic processes that need coordinating from across the world, it is probably more appropriate to admit a sense of wonder that organization is accomplished rather than to start with this expectation. (Morgan, 2001: 10)

“Organization” If we let go of the bounding in space in time the implication becomes that we retract from the organization as a pre-existing entity and turn towards studying organization as an emergent phenomenon. Surprisingly little literature actually explores “organization” except for in its achieved state. The vast majority of works operate on the assumption that organizations are monolithic or pre-existing entities, or both. The reader may object that this argument is not so, and that many studies actually show what goes on inside organizations. This is true. Numerous studies focus on processes such as decision-making, power, sensemaking, communication, learning, identity building, conflict etc. Such studies tend to assume, however, that there are organizations inside which these processes take place. Organizations are treated rather like boxes leading their own lives. If we enter into the microcosmos of organized reality, however, we will see that there are myriads of “sub-organizations” that are being formed all the time. What is important to note, is that these sub-organizations exist not only inside “the organization”. On the contrary, they form across organizational boundaries as well as outside them. They may emerge as a result of organizations interacting, but they may equally well form the very basis for the formation of organizations. I permit myself a little detour via the trivial imagery of someone approaching an anthill. From a distance the anthill is clearly visible in the sense that we can see its contours. As we approach it along the footpath, we see ants going about their daily work of


transporting materials to the hill. The number of ants we perceive increases and as get very close to it, we suddenly witness a world of intense activity. We meet ants on our path who transport materials and even dead comrades from the area surrounding the anthill, which suggests that the anthill exists in a constant state of formation. It also suggests that there was something before the anthill and there may well be something after it. Although a lot of organising is going on while we are present, we do not see much of it because it does not fall under what we might see as “the organization”. For example, returning to the life of social organization, how do we account for the sort of phenomena that Meyer describes here as movements, which tend to amount to organizational measures: In the modern world, anti-organizational social movements take the role of rationalized Others proposing ideas for elaboration, reform, and improvement, rather than elimination. If organizations are thought to oppress their labor forces, we create movements with ideas — not to eliminate organizations but to elaborate their personnel structures (grievance procedures, union rights, internal labor markets). If organizations are thought to suppress innovation, we create movements for institutionalizing research and development. If organizations are thought to be inefficient mechanisms, we create movements with ideas for improved accounting and control. If organization destroys community, we create rationalized ideas for improving community in organization. (Meyer, 1996: 246)

Brunsson and Jacobsson (2000) write from concerns that are similar to that of Meyer. Their book A world of standards is interesting and useful particularly because they consider the possibility of standards actually substituting for organizations. Standards, as Brunsson and Jacobsson see them, are rules on a global scale that regulate activities in organizations — they are essentially instruments of control. Examples are standards emitted by organizations such as the International Standards Organization (ISO), the International Labour Organization (ILO), the International Women’s Right Watch and the International Football Association (FIFA). What is interesting about Brunsson and Jacobsson’s ideas is that they do not assume that standards are necessarily adopted by organizations. Standards may be seen as “regulatory space” (my interpretation) that exists beyond organizations. They may be championed by organizations (what Brunsson and Jacobsson refer to as standardizers), but they do not constitute organizations in the sense of goals, staff etc. Brunsson (in the same book) points out that standards may exist in the place of organizations, just as they may exist in the place of markets. Nevertheless, standards form contexts for action and interaction; they influence what goes on in the world of work and leisure, including the way that organizations operate. Such measures constitute emergent bits and pieces of organization in ways that are not at all trivial. On closer scrutiny we are able to see scores of processes analogous to the formation of subsets of organization in the form of projects,

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virtual teams and communities that make up the organizational landscape. This is even more noticeable if we step outside the world of large established organizations and consider business parks, industrial districts or inter-organizational networks, where start-ups and emergent relations and projects make up the order of the day. What we are looking at, are contexts for organization, among which “organizations” form one species. We are talking about analysing “organization”, while not being constrained by looking at “organizations” in their evolved state. An example of recent works that shows that we may usefully study those processes of organization that form around and between “organizations” can be found in Powell et al. (2002), who report on how inter-organizational networks form and develop in a field of activity, in this case the biotechnology sector. Powell et al.’ s paper is focused on explaining how a science-based industry evolves as network ties between different kinds of actors form and reform, and how this again shapes what they call the “opportunity structure” of the field. Most of these initiatives are organizations in themselves, although they may seem more like loosely coupled and informal movements. Most of them probably do not materialize at all, some achieve some form of continuity while others turn into stable patterns, maybe become organizations, even institutions. They all do, however, make up a canvas which is a seedbed for numerous contexts of action and interaction. The relationship between organization and organizations may take several different forms: 1. Organization exists between organizations. One example is interorganizational collaboration projects and other temporary work contexts. Organization between organizations may also exist in the form of social networks, which are more personal and more stable over time than temporarily organized work contexts. 2. Organization exists beyond organizations. Organizations operate in fields influenced by, for example, technologies, professions and standards. These are contexts of varying mixtures of standards, norms and resources that at times influence actions in ways different from “organizations”. 3. Organization exists inside organizations. Organizations harbour a multitude of contexts for action and interaction that make up the organization. These exist in the form of committees, thinktanks, projects, but organizations also consist of several levels of more stable contexts, such as departments, units and programmes. These contexts have different time-space characteristics, and it is the nesting between them that makes up the organization. 4. Organization exists after organizations. Organizations perish, and in their wake they leave competencies, relations and structures that may or may not facilitate the establishment of new and different forms of organization.


5. Organization exists before organizations. Before organizations are evolved entities they exist in a state of emergence. In the emergence phase actions some coordination and affinity may exist, but not through mechanisms such as budgets, plans and objectives which we associate with “organizations”. Studying organization means that we consider organization to be in a continual state of formation, where new contexts for human action and interaction are created and develop whilst others diminish or reappear in new guise. Whereas others such as Orlikowski (1996) consider such flux to be the essence of organizational change, I will take it further and suggest that it does not just form the essence of organizational change but also of organization itself. “Organization” in its indeterminate, “unbounded” form is about the formation of contexts for action and interaction and subsequently about their reproduction over time and space. The suggestion would find resonance with social thinkers, such as Luhmann (2002), who states that the basis for a social system lies in the way it distinguishes itself from other systems. Studying “organization” in its indeterminate form implies studying not only the contexts that emerge, but also the conditions for their formation, for their evolution and their transformation. Searching for “organization” in the indeterminate form means also that when studying the formation of organization we do not interpret processes as if they invariably will eventually turn into “the organization” with the structural and cultural traits that we associate with achieved states. The indeterminate form obliges us to search beyond “organizations”, to transcend the imagery of “the organization” and search for how underlying patterns for human actions and interaction emerge and evolve. This may allow us to discover contexts for human action and interaction that mainstream organization theory does not readily pick up. Works in organization theory tend to work from the idea that organization is represented by constructs such as power, hierarchy, boundaries and objectives (e.g. Brunsson and Sahlin-Andersson, 2000). Relaxing the expectation that the organization is represented by such constructs enables us to search for alternative imageries. The idea is not entirely new. Related ideas have been discussed by various writers in relation to organizational change over recent years (Orlikowski, 1996; Weick and Quinn, 1999; Pettigrew, Woodman and Cameron, 2001). Still, considering the relatively few attempts at conceptualization, the idea may be considered a young idea in relation to organization studies. It is perhaps not arbitrary that a focus on emergence is taking hold at this time. Firms and public organizations operate under conditions where there are pressure both to become innovative and at the same time be more efficient. This puts pressure on them to be both better at exploring existing resources and at exploiting new opportunities (March, 1991). In addition, new technologies and market globalization combine to form opportunities for spatial expansion through various

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forms of mergers, networking, acquisitions and strategic cooperation. It is difficult to assess what exactly are the consequences of such factors for internal organization. However, there are two observations about changes in the organizational landscape that help explain why it is becoming increasingly important. First, large organizations appear to be changing towards a greater degree of internal diversity of organizing logics. It is becoming increasingly common to introduce supplementary logics of organizing to traditional hierarchies. Large organizations do not convert into radically “new organizations”, as some management writers seem to think. Instead, a study by Ruigrok, Pettigrew, Peck and Whittington (1999) suggests that instead of supplanting hierarchical models, large organizations tend to supplement them, resulting in an increasing diversity of forms of organization. This may be seen as an essentially “grafting” approach to organization where the dynamics consists of continually emerging processes rooted in existing organizational arrangements. The organization cannot convert entirely its culture of working, at least not within a time-span of a few months or a few years. Because there will always be an overall trade-off between change and stability, perhaps the most important object of study is to try to understand how various organization processes interact with one another over time, such as what takes place in the interface between semi-permanent and ephemeral organization processes (Lanzara, 1983). Several ways can be envisaged of seeing such relationships. For example, some organization forms might replace others, be embedded in them or the interaction between two processes might combine into processes different from both of them. A second observation of the organizational landscape is that although large organizations tend to change through a diversification of different types of organizing processes, different and hitherto novel forms of organization seem to emerge. Whereas large firms may evolve through grafting of additional organizing logics, the seemingly radical new forms see the light of day in newly formed organizations. Such organizations sometimes demonstrate that the idea of organization may be conceptualized quite differently from what has been mainstream in organization theory. An example is an organization such as Linux. Linux was started by a young Finnish entrepreneur by the name of Linus Torvalds while he was still a graduate student, who searched for ways of offering an alternative to Microsoft’s operating system. In a relatively short space of time Linux has proved to be a significant challenger to the giant Microsoft in providing a universal systems platform for personal computers. Linux operates largely as an open-source community of volunteer programmers. It has virtually no employees, no paid staff, no organization structure, makes no profit and offers a free product (!) Still, it has thousands of people “working for it” and has now been in existence for a number of years, which shows that it is not purely an ephemeral construction.


Linux has emerged and grown and its uniqueness is probably related to the particular technology it deals in. It is not “dead” technology that can be understood purely as sets of tools, but it has a distinct flavour of community purpose, what Orlikowski and Yates (1994) refer to as “genre”. Moreover, the technology can hardly be seen as lying “out there” as if separate from the actors; the people developing it. It is not on either side of a subject-object dichotomy, but instead it forms part and parcel of the actor, his or her history, beliefs and context. In other words, technology would form part of a collective (Latour 1999: 180), both constitutive of it and constituted by it. Whatever the explanation, understanding an organization such as this requires that its emergence is studied within a wider framework than what is done in mainstream organization theory. Forms such as this may well escape the frameworks for studying how conventional organizational forms arise from needs to gain acceptance through adoption of mainstream formal structures, such as what is found in new institutional theory (Meyer and Rowan, 1977; DiMaggio and Powell, 1983). We may be witnessing something between a movement and an organization, between a network and a community. We may be witnessing what looks more like “fields” than organizations. We may be witnessing processes that are of a different texture than the common distinction between structural, cultural and cognitive processes. We may still use terms such as power, hierarchy, identity, goals etc. to study the emergence of such contexts, but it is unlikely that that would satisfy our curiosity when it comes to understanding their formation. What, then, should we be looking for when studying “organization” in its undetermined state? The boundedness that we let go of relates to time and space, and we may consider the two separately.

Unboundedness of time: Organization is emergent According to sociologist Niklas Luhmann (1995), there is no beginning to a social system. Instead a system emerges from the process of making distinctions between itself and the environment, between before and after. Over time processes serve to uphold the system or other systems emerge. Evolution thus consists of transitions in the form of events — intended or unintended — that shape subsequent processes. It is particularly at stages of transition where stability and change are at work: where forces of transformation and conservation are acted out. Studying transitions allows us to understand not only the path that evolution takes, but it also allows us to study evolutions that do not take place. Organization theory has by and large been a relatively deterministic field of inquiry where factors tend to be correlated with the way that the evolution turned out. This has enabled correlation

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between, say organic and loose forms of organization with changing and complex environments. Studies have uncovered that flexible organization tends to be found in fast moving and complex environments, whereas simpler and more hierarchical structures tend to be found in more slowly changing and less complex environments. This tells us what we may find, but it tells us less about the internal evolutionary processes whereby this kind of adaptation takes place, or, equally importantly, does not take place. It does not, for example, tell us why it seems easier to move from a loose towards a more bureaucratic structure than vice versa.

Unboundedness of time: Organization is unfinished The idea of organization as unfinished is largely the antithesis to organization as an achieved state. The former suggests that a current state of organization is but an intermediary state whereas the latter suggests that the organization has reached its ultimate equilibrium (or will eventually get there and hence the evolution is determinable). Studies of organizational change admittedly do pay attention to the unfinished character of organization, but many studies consider change to be a change of state between two different points in time. This observed change is then held up against a chosen set of parameters. Many studies also operate from a predefined idea as to the direction in which organizations change, such as change from bureaucratic to more flexible arrangements. To consider organization as unfinished implies the idea that there will always be processes going on that will eventually change the course of the development of the organization. Such forces reside in the present organization and relate to its nature. In other words, as the present organization emerges, it creates distinctions that were not there before. Creating distinctions is an unavoidable effect of organization, because it invariably implies drawing boundaries defining who is to be inside (hence who has to be on the outside), what resources to use (and what not to use), the dominant ideas from which to work from (hence which ones to ignore) and many other distinctions. In this way organization draws lines of inclusion and exclusion which again become arenas of contention (Low, 1996). The very act of distinction also creates new tensions between individual motives and collective orientations (Meyerson and Scully, 1995; Crozier and Friedberg, 1977). Distinctions created through organization thus contains seeds of change as it creates differences that were not there before. Consequently the emergence of organization creates history which influences its further evolution. This means that there is a certain connectedness over time as further evolution relates to the organization being constructed, although the connectedness may be elusive to the eye of the researcher. I purposely use the word “connectedness” in order to signal that organization is influenced by its past


and influences the future in turn, but that the influence is not absolute in the sense that it can be deterministic. In other words, history certainly influences current states of affairs but cannot be assumed to determine them.

Unboundedness of space: Organization is multiple We have seen above that large organizations tend to adopt multiple ways of organizing that supplement rather than supplant one another. Understanding organization thus becomes a matter of understanding multiplicity of ways of organizing. Ordering mechanisms, ranging from policies to rules, to habits, to beliefs, to stories, exist in many places at different times, and the analyst is faced with a wide range of choice. Contrary to the impressions left by conventional ideas in organization science that phenomena and explanations present themselves as such, the researcher enacts a set of factors and explanations, which in turn present themselves to him or her, which again influences further enactment. This is not a mere act of peddling models on the dividing-line between fact and fiction, but is more a case of working consistently within a framework of factors and explanations. Multiplicity demands further that we study how factors behave in interaction with one another. One way is to pursue, for example the idea of nesting proposed by Holm (1995), whereby actions at lower levels are seen to produce change at higher levels. For example, a number of temporary arrangements, such as projects, may eventually turn into a new semi-permanent subset of the organization, based on certain ideas, people and cultural patterns derived from the projects. However, it would be wise not to be bound by the assumption of nesting. Nesting carries with it an assumption of synthesis and causality, which asks the researcher to sort out those processes that produce higher level effects from those that do not. Inasmuch as this deals with multiplicity in a very useful manner, it leaves out the analysis of how processes coexist, for example of how seemingly contradictory cultures exist simultaneously at different levels of the organization.

Unboundedness of space: Organization is amorphous We let go of the assumption that there is one uniform, continuous boundary between the organization and the environment. Instead, we propose the idea that whereas people, technology or ideas are bound together at one level, at other levels they are not distinct. There may, for example, be distinct social boundaries that bind people together in a common identity while the same group blends in with other groups when it comes to questions such as professional norms or work ethics.

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A common assumption in organization theory has been that work practices and norms are particular to a specific organization. A loosening of the assumption of boundedness opens up the idea that there is a field of several organizations with similar traits of professional practices but that a particular organization, for example, is bound together by a legal framework specifying the conditions for the use of technologies, methodological approaches or even brands that relate to that specific legal framework. The opposite is also possible, whereby several organized entities or firms collaborate under the same brand. This is the case of the Volkswagen factory in Brazil, where some dozens of local firms assemble Volkswagen cars, but where less than a handful of people are actually employed by Volkswagen. The view of organizations as located in fields consisting of multiple boundaries with different levels of significance is applied in some works in institutional theory. Works such as DiMaggio’s (1991) analysis of the diffusion of art museums in the United States demonstrates that explaining the formation of these organizations demands that one understands the extra-organizational context of professional communities, norms and associations. DiMaggio, working primarily in a tradition of “organizations” and “the organization” as the unit of analysis, has a somewhat different aim from our focus of “organization”. Still, what he does serves our purpose by illustrating that “organization” exists at different levels, notably in this case the levels of formal structure and professional norms. The point is borne out by Brunsson (2000: 35), who suggests that “[in some ways] Strong professions resemble strong organizations”. Formal structure resides within organizational boundaries, whereas professional norms transgress the boundaries. Garsten (2003), locating her analysis in a more contemporary context and a concern with effects of temporary work arrangements, is similarly interested in mechanisms that arise between organizations. With focus on temporary work she argues that although organizations develop more unstable and unpredictable boundaries of work, temporary workers develop stable arrangements in their own socio-professional contexts. Hence, there are stable constellations cutting across organizational boundaries which impact on the inter-life of the organization, but which may not analytically be seen as forming part of the organization.

Summing up We have taken the step from proper-name organizations and “the organization” to “organization” in its indeterminate form. The justification for doing so is to be able to enlarge our framework for understanding not only new forms of organization but also how organization evolves. Organizations, as they are commonly studied, are assumed to embody structures, cultures, goals and many other mechanisms.


The questions addressed in the chapter are basically ontological in nature, in the sense that we delimit what we study. In the next chapter we will discuss an epistemological aspect of organization theory where I argue that there is opportunity to work with alternatives to the macro-micro opposition which has been a central theme of contention in organization theory.

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Chapter 2

Between form and action The case for contexts

There is no reason, as far as our knowledge is concerned, to conceive the actual world as purely orderly, or as purely chaotic. (Whitehead, 1978[1929]: 110)

The gap in organization theory between form and actions dates back to early times, but has been clouded in normative debates in recent years. As suggested by some recent schools of thought, the problem is far from resolved. Form has been used by theorists to interpret regularities between different organizations or organization types. Actions, on the other hand, are localized and convey actors’ motives and understanding. Form as theory is a template with little flexibility, but which explains phenomena by correlation. Actions as theory make sense primarily in their own context and travel primarily in the way of portable models empowered by association. Between these two levels is a gap whereby each serves merely as background for the other, but which is too wide for the two to interact. Contemporary social theories suggest that it is possible to conceptualize workable solutions in this gap.

The normative debate and obliteration of the object of study Unfortunately, human beings have a childish propensity to turn whatever they learn into religions, and when this happens the original teaching is corrupted and forgotten, and we have to set out again to rediscover it. (Spencer Brown, 1994: viii)

The better part of the twentieth century occupied students in trying to unravel the nature of organization. Multiple schools of thought have appeared, sometimes offering genuine new insights, other times being mere opposition to prevailing schools. The pendulum has swung from realist to semiotic analyses, from utilitarian to critical views, from positivist studies to post-modern perspectives. Rather than making the field simpler, the unravelling has produced more views, insights and controversies than ever before. Of course, this is not a bad thing in itself, as it is in the differance (Gergen 1992: 222) that views become intelligible. The more

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views there are, the more there is to build new insights from, as more possibilities open up tinkering and crossbreeding (Latour 1993: 126). However, this polyphony does demand that the voices do not obliterate our objects of study. Discourse can sometimes become an end in itself and as antagonists strive to convince and strive eagerly to gain political ground, their course of action may end up obliterating the aims of our study. Obliteration takes place as the fates of propositions become entangled with the fates of the proponents. For the proponent to prosper and to be heard, the propositions need to be made as robust as possible, and robustness relates to the resonance among followers. As proponents and propositions need followers, socio-mental space is created within which development and refinement is possible. Such spaces are indispensable. On the other hand, in their eagerness to stake out their boundaries, the occupants of the spaces engage in defensive discourse and, knowingly or unknowingly, they cover up some of the tracks that led to where they are. The polyphony in organization studies thus adds richness. On the other hand the cost of richness is obscurity, and an important challenge is to penetrate the veil of obscurity. One of our major tasks as researchers is to go back into the histories of our theories and uncover the tracks that led us to where we are today. It is in the uncovering of tracks that we can decipher the knowledge that we have developed and that we apply. As some veils are lifted, old tracks may appear in a new light and add new incentives for research. Differences between normative positions have fuelled much debate about what we should consider to be “organization”. Thus, the debate has been much more than a “scientific” exchange; it has also been an arena of contesting norms about what organization represents in terms of power, justice, democracy and equality, to name but a few. This debate is inevitably complex, but also vastly important, because as much as society shapes organizations, organizations shape society in turn. The way we construe organization influences how we perceive ourselves. Therefore it matters, for example, if we read organization as a means of capitalist power as do Marxist organization theorists, if we read it as manifestation of masculinity over femininity, if we accept the term “organization” as a metanarrative as post-modernists argue, if we see organization as essentially rationalist window-dressing to conform with norms in society much the way some neoinstitutionalists argue, and so on. At a level of epistemology it matters, of course, whether we accept organization as being “something out there” as existing in the eyes of the beholder, or not existing at all. The normative aspect of the debate has been well covered by analyses over the past years, not least in the anthology edited by Clegg, Hardy and Nord (1996). Borrowing from Mike Reed (1996) in the same book, the debate about matters in and around organizations has largely been about contesting terrain, and the contestation of the terrain has had clear overtones of

Between form and action

political and normative concerns. An example that illustrates how individuals and subject-matter may conflate one another is given by Latour’s intriguing description of the struggle for dominance between Pasteur and Pouchet on the explanation of the generation of micro-organisms: Pouchet, engaged in a bitter struggle against Louis Pasteur’s claim that there is no spontaneous generation [of micro-organisms], built a nice counter-experiment. Pasteur argued that it is always germs introduced from the outside that generate micro-organisms. Long swan-necked open glass flasks containing sterilized infusion were contaminated at low altitude but stayed sterile in the High Alps. This impressive series of demonstrations established an incontrovertible link between a new actor, the micro-organisms, and what Pasteur said they could do: microorganisms could not come from within the infusion but only from the outside. Pouchet, who rejected Pasteur’s conclusion, tried out the connection and forced the micro-organisms to emerge from within. Repeating Pasteur’s experiment Pouchet showed that glass flasks containing a sterile hay infusion were very soon swarming with micro-organisms even in the “germ-free” air of the Pyrenees mountains. The micro-organisms on which Pasteur depended were made to betray him; they appeared spontaneously, thus supporting Pouchet’s position. In this case the actants change camps and two spokesmen are supported at once. This change of camp does not stop the controversy, because it is possible to accuse Pouchet of having unknowingly introduced micro-organisms from outside even though he sterilized everything. The meaning of “sterile” becomes ambiguous and has to be renegotiated. Pasteur, now in the role of dissenter, showed that the mercury used by Pouchet was contaminated. As a result Pouchet was cut off from his supply lines, betrayed by his spontaneous micro-organisms, and Pasteur becomes the triumphant spokesman, aligning “his” micro-organisms which act on command. (Latour, 1987: 84)

The Pasteur versus Pouchet struggle shows that scientific debate cannot be independent of the personal, and hence normative, dimension. On the other hand, it also shows that without some reference to scientific frames of reference, the debate loses much of its sense. Whereas the scientific frames of reference may be more evident in microbiology than in organization studies, it should not be used as an excuse for arguing as if there is not anything “out there” that cannot be brought to market and scrutinized. Notwithstanding the importance of the normative debate, there is a science dimension that lies underneath it which tends to become background and become less visible. This science dimension is not unrelated to the normative debate, but it sometimes becomes obliterated by the tensions of the normative debate. There is a fault (or a front-) line in the normative debate which lies between micro and macro, between individual and collective, between agency and structure, between order and disorder, between the tacit and the explicit, between the

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intended and the resultant. This fault line corresponds to a problem with which social scientists have grappled for a long time, which influenced early works in organization theory, but which have been less visible in recent years. Critical voices in organization theory (Reed 1997 and Clegg and Hardy, 1996) argue that we still are too much hung up on a distinction between the level of the local and the global, structure versus process, whereas progress can be made by paying more attention to interactions between the two levels. The point is echoed in an essay by Weick (1996) in which he draws upon the allegory of organizational theorists being too loath to drop their tools in order to open up new ways of thinking. Weick is worth quoting on this point: As dualities within organizational studies (e.g. macro-micro) harden into positions with which people identify and that in turn identify them, the tools associated with these positions take on excess weight, which ironically makes it harder for them to be dropped. The result is that attention is deflected from ideas to people. And as attention is drawn toward the field’s internal issues, people lose the struggle that remains against outside threats. (Weick, 1996: 312)

Cooper and Law (1995) use the terms “distal” and “proximal” to describe macro and micro level analysis respectively. The distal refers to form; the results, outcomes, the “finished”, the ready-made. Organization viewed distally is structured order with clear boundaries that distinguishes it from the environment. The proximal, on the other hand, denotes the emergent, the relational and the detailed. The distal relates clearly to Parsonian thought and modernism. Although Cooper and Law hint that the proximal could be used to illuminate the distal, they make a stark and almost irreconcilable distinction between the two, which takes on normative dimensions. Where the distal in Cooper and Law’s paper appears rigid, cynical, instrumental and superficial, the proximal appears human, fluid and flexible. Thus, what is largely a matter of perspective becomes a matter of value, and once value enters the arena the battle cannot revert to a discussion of perspective. Discussion is futile as long as difference is the starting point and as long as there is no alternative to be distant or close. An alternative to drawing normative distinctions is to explore differences by trying to explain them in the light of the theoretical projects they represent.

The focus on form — looking for the hard bits Parsons’ (1951) work on social systems is a cornerstone of organization theory in that it has created frameworks for the interpretation of social organization. Thus his work has been hugely influential, which is recognised also among his most


staunch critics, such as Habermas (1984, 1987), not just in sociology, but also in organization theory. Notwithstanding, his frameworks have been severely criticized. For example, the idea that organizations function according to functional imperatives and that they will tend towards equilibrium states, does lead the focus towards consensus and order, and detract attention from forces of change. Moreover, the assumption of ordering mechanisms may lead us to think that organizations should be created as ordering systems, where deviant behaviour is to be brought into line. Parsons’ work merits that we pause with it, because it portrays explicitly the systematic reasoning of an influential early work where the main object is to search for science based ways of representing social organization. His reasoning illustrates the basic dilemma between form and actions in describing social systems and how he chooses a way out of the dilemma by identifying elements of form that might be transferable between different systems. Although Parsons is criticized for forcing social systems into parameters of order (the normative debate!), his aim was to identify “something” that would allow us to compare different social systems. The comparing of different social systems would be done satisfying the “dynamic” interest (Parsons 1951: 20) of theory. In applying knowledge “dynamically”, our main interest should be to identify traits of social systems that can be recognized from one state of the system to another, or from one system to another. Parsons acknowledged that social systems do not operate in an orderly fashion. For one thing, human actions are too much given to contexts and individual motivations to be a reliable parameter. Social systems are elusive, and, notes Parsons, We are simply not in a position to “catch” the uniformities of dynamic process in the social system except here and there. (Parsons, 1951: 21)

Consequently, the task of the social scientist is to establish the traits that may with a reasonable degree of probability surface “here and there” and allow us to say something about one system as opposed to another. This view characterizes Parsons’ theoretical project; namely to develop descriptors of systems at a level that is sufficiently representative of actions and at the same time sufficiently stable to enable the scientist to correlate or to generalize. Theory seen in this way is similar to the use of a template. A template is a device in the form of a thin metal or plastic sheet in a special shape of pattern that is used to help cut other materials in a similar shape (Longman, 1995). As a template, theory enables similarities to be constructed between systems or between stages of development of a system. Obviously, this has consequences for what theory actually does in relation to a social system. It means for one that social systems appear similar to one another and that those characteristics that escape the template are not recorded. We shall, however, leave this particular critique aside here.

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A selection of snippets from Parsons book suggests the background of his theoretical project: First, on the importance of similarities: It may be taken for granted that all scientific theory is concerned with the analysis of elements of uniformity in empirical processes. This is what is ordinarily meant by the ‘dynamic’ interest of theory. (Parsons, 1951: 20)

Second, the belief that social systems, like mechanical ones, have measurable regularities: In some parts of physics and chemistry it is possible to extend the empirical coverage of such a deductive system quite widely. But in the sciences of action dynamic knowledge of this character is highly fragmentary, though by no means absent. (Parsons, 1951: 20)

Third, the tenet that macro-level factors may be used to account for lower level dynamics: In this situation there is a danger of losing all the advantages of systematic theory. But it is possible to retain some of them and at the same time provide a framework for the orderly growth of dynamic knowledge. It is as such a second best type of theory that the structural-functional level of theoretical systematization is here conceived and employed. (Parsons, 1951: 20)

It is worth paying attention to the fact that Parsons attributes “second best“ status to his theoretical framework, something that can only testify to his inherently pragmatic approach to theorizing about social systems. At the core of his preoccupations lies the selection of macro-level factors that may be used to account for lower level dynamics, what we may refer to as proxies for actions in social systems. In lieu of actions as parameter, Parsons works from the idea that human behaviour is influenced by essentially two macro-level factors: –

–

Structure — the structure of the relations between actors. Actors are “located” in the social system relative to other actors by virtue of their status. They also perform functions in relation to other actors, what is referred to as roles. Culture — the influence of norms. Social action is made possible under normative orientation of actors where mutuality of expectations is oriented to the shared order of symbolic meanings.

This way of applying relatively stable proxies such as norms or structure greatly influenced organization theory, particularly in the 1960s and 1970s. Scott describes the early stages of organization theory as establishing:


… an area defined at a level of abstraction sufficiently general to call attention to similarities in form and function across different arenas of activity; and a subject matter that exhibited sufficient diversity and complexity to encourage and reward empirical investigation. (Scott, 1998: 9)

What we read into Scott’s words is an attempt at establishing a field that can be defended in objective scientific terms, i.e. something that is both sufficiently unique and general to attract attention. The characteristics that could be applied in such a way were those of form. In other words, structural traits were chosen, and organizations became associated with whatever structure they would exhibit. The macro-level traits chosen by Parsons had as their main aim the establishment of a science that extracted from an empirical entity certain regularities which again allowed generalization. Again Parsons’ project is reflected in Scott: For the first time, sociologists were engaged in the development and empirical testing of generalizations dealing with the structure and functioning of organizations viewed as organizations. (Scott, 1998: 9) (italics added)

The use of form as a proxy of organization which allows correlation of phenomena is widespread and highly influential in organization studies. Donaldson (1996: 1–2) sums up the project of contingency studies in the 1960s as “showing an empirical connection between some aspect of organizational structure and some aspect of the situation”. Early writings by Fayol and Barnard did more to exhibit the uniqueness of organization than conceiving of it as being constituted by multiple parameters. From the 1960s onwards this changed. Studies by the Aston group in the UK and by Scott, Blau and others in the US carried out systematic studies of parameters of organization such as centralization, formalization and differentiation. Although it may have reached a peak with the dominance of structural contingency theory in the 1960s and the 1970s (Donaldson, 1996), it is present in recent influential schools in organization studies. Since the 1970s, two main schools of thought have appeared, both of which may be traced to epistemological foundations of Parsonian thought. First, the organizational ecology school (Hannan and Freeman, 1989) largely uses parameters of form, such as size and age, to investigate the relative abundance and diversity of organizations and their changing composition over time (Baum, 1996: 77). Second, the new institutionalist school of thought draws heavily on the idea of correlation of organizational form to patterns of expectations in what DiMaggio and Powell (1991) refer to as organizational fields. Here also, organization is largely a question of form, where much effort has been spent studying the spread of organizational forms or managerial ideas and ideologies. Forms are no longer immutable, which means that stable constructs of form, although they have served well for decades, are no longer the only viable alternative. Norms and structure are still seen largely as part and parcel of organization

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and are frequently used in writings on organizations. Barley and Kunda (1998: 27) charge that organization scholars are schooled to prefer abstract concepts whose stability can be taken for granted and are consequently falling behind the times. In a similar way, Brunsson and Olsen (1998) pronounce the Weberian project, if not dead, then at least no longer the only option. The trend towards forms that vary greatly in terms of stability and substance suggests that the project of generalization undertaken by Parsons and theorists in early times organization theory needs to be revised.

The focus on actions: Working from the soft bits What, for example, is the size of IBM, or the Red Army, or the French Ministry of Education, or the world market? To be sure, these are all actors of great size, since they mobilize hundreds of thousands or even millions of agents. Their amplitude must therefore stem from causes that absolutely surpass the small collectives of the past. However, if we wander about inside IBM, if we follow the chains of command of the Red Army, if we inquire in the corridors of the Ministry of Education, if we study the process of selling and buying a bar of soap, we never leave the local level. We are always in interaction with four or five people; the building superintendent always has his territory well staked out; the directors’ conversations sound just like those of the employees; as for the salespeople, they go on and on giving change and filling out their invoices. Could the macro-actors be made up of micro-actors? (Garfinkel, 1967) Could IBM be made up of a series of local interactions? The Red Army of an aggregate of conversations in the mess hall? The Ministry of Education of a mountain of pieces of paper? The world market of a host of local exchanges and arrangements? (Latour, 1993: 121)

Latour’s observation tells us that once we begin to study inside organizations, we are not likely to see organizations. What we do see is a lot of interconnected actions, people and perceptions. Weick pointed this out more than 25 years ago, arguing that: The word, organization, is a noun and is also a myth. If one looks for an organization one will not find it. What will be found is that there are events, linked together, that transpire within concrete walls and these sequences, their pathways, their timing, are the forms we erroneously make into substances when we talk about an organization. (Weick, 1974: 358)

In his book The social psychology of organizing from 1979 (second ed.) Weick situates the analysis at the level of actions, seeing “organizing” as relating to the interlocking of behaviours (4), an imagery borrowed from Buckley (1967). These interlocking behaviours are intelligible to actors and they form “grammars” that


help people not only make sense of the conventions and rules of the interlocking but also to draw causal maps of past experiences of the people who are organized. Weick is loath to leave the level of actions and consequently place explanations at a higher level of abstraction. His argument is basically that organizational actions can be boiled down to actions of individuals acting on behalf of the organization. Thus, all that we need to understand lies in the proximity of the actors; their sensemaking and their actions. Notwithstanding the focus on actions and behaviour, there are systemic effects, as acting as a way of selecting, what Weick refers to as “enactment”. What is external to us is essentially created by ourselves; we select what to see, therefore we in turn see what we select. This has consequences for later actions and sensemaking, which is based on what we retain from the previous selection. The systemic pattern is produced through processes that consist of the elements of selection, enactment and retention. Hence, the system consists of interaction between actions and sensemaking. The focus on the interaction between sensemaking and actions has encouraged rich and highly instructive studies of what happens in the vicinity of individuals in organizations. Weick and Roberts (1993), for example, provide an excellent illustration of this in their study of communication between pilots and landing crews on aircraft carriers. Landing on an aircraft carrier is an operation that is carried out at extremely high speed and where the pilot and the crew in the flight deck are crucially dependent on another. According to conventional wisdom the high degree of precision and speed under such operations would normally entail high accident rates. Not so with aircraft carrier landing operations, something which led Weick and Roberts to ask the intriguing question why are there so few accidents under such conditions where almost anyhing could go wrong. In probing for answers, they come up with expressions that describe high intensity collaboration between people in organizations, such as “heedfulness” and “collective minds”. Another and very influential collection of work in organization theory is that undertaken by James March together with colleagues, starting with the book “organizations” (March and Simon, 1958). The visualization of March and Simon is largely to take actions as the form. Structure, they argue (170), relates to patterns of behaviour that repeat themselves: “… those aspects of the pattern of behavior in the organization that are relatively stable and that change only slowly.” March and Simon depict structure as being about process. Structure consists of actions that are repeated. Therefore, when a person enters an organization, what he or she enters is a field of actions characterizing the organization and at the same time convey to the person what it might entail to be part of the organization. What structuralists see as goals, March and Simon see as ”programmes”, implying that there is an intention to bind people’s actions into some coherent pattern over time

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and space. Programmes, then, are intended patterns of repeated actions. March and Simon thus collapse organizational form into actions. Theories of change in organizations, for example, are primarily theories of actions in organizations (March 1981: 564). Expressing form as actions is a way of seeing social systems that keeps the analysis and the analyst close to the ground. March demonstrates the benefits of such a view in his later works, where he has opened up new ways of thinking about topics such as organizational learning (March and Olsen, 1976), search processes (Cyert and March, 1961) and organizational rationality (March and Olsen, 1989). The action frame-of-reference is also found in important discussions on organizational rationality, such as by Brunsson (1985). The project of Weick and March is not one of correlation of constructs with universal templates of form, such as we find in organization theory influenced by Parsons’ perspective, but aims more towards exploration of the significance of phenomena. There is a definite break of epistemology here, where universality is challenged by localism. Perrow (1986: 137) describes the break as “deconstructionism”, in which we depart from the view of organization based on rational principles and open up socially constructed views. A “deconstructed” view obviously has implications for how we view theorizing. “A good theory explains, predicts and delights”, says Weick elsewhere. Weick sees one way of theorizing as using aphorisms. Aphorisms are essentially short “pithy” sentences — phrases that express wisdom yet with no waste of words (e.g. “I think, therefore I am”). Elsewhere he draws upon the use of allegories (Weick, 1996), which are stories with characters and events that can be used to convey particular ideas. An allegory in organization theory may be the decision process leading to the Bay of Pigs blunder, coined by Irving Janis as the phenomenon of “groupthink”. Groupthink may be characterized as a lock-in of ideas that is reinforced through socio-psychological processes in groups. The particular significance of groupthink was due to the high tension cold war context in which the processes took place with, at their midst, one of the twentieth century’s most mythical politicians, John F. Kennedy. A third means of conveying meaning is that of metaphors, which are widespread in organization theory. Metaphors are words describing something that is familiar in such a way that they cast light on objects or actions where they are not directly applicable except through association with their familiarity. Organization theory has accumulated numerous metaphors over the past few decades, such as “garbage cans”, “networks”, “learning”, “loose coupling”, “organized anarchies” etc. Of the three terms — aphorisms, allegories and metaphors — I take metaphors to be the more central to organization studies. Theories, when seen as metaphors (or allegories or aphorisms), are portable. This means that you carry them with you into an organizational context, you


unpack them and they enable you to interpret a selection of what is going on in the light of something familiar. The power of the portable theory thus lies in the illustration and the illumination it provides. It casts a light upon actions that has been conceived elsewhere and allows a particular understanding of the signification of actions.

The problem of either form or actions Parsonian inspired works based on the idea of form as proxy for human actions provide little understanding of dynamics by which phenemena emerge in organizations. In the search for similarity and regularity across the board of many organizations, knowledge of the depth of organizational evolution and specificity is sacrificed. Nor do they yield much insight into the role of the subject; in Parsons’ theory the subject is melted into the larger system and is assumed to act so as to uphold the larger system. Weick’s theory also lends itself to critique. As some of his empical studies show, imageries such as ”interlocking behaviour” and ”enactment” provide rich descriptions at the level of actions. However, in Weick’s system actions and sensemaking are both cause and effect. There is no level beyond that of actions and sensemaking against which they become inscribed into objects, routines or other media (Bakken and Hernes 2003b). For example, it is hard to conceive of organization without rules, norms, standards and many other things that are created by actions, but which form a background for new actions. Much as the term “organization” might have been a myth, and much as the word “organization” itself hides the stuff that makes it up (i.e. actions), there is something beyond the world of actions. This “beyond” shapes actions, as actions shape it in turns. It is this “beyond” that is hard to define in such a way that it does not become a static and sterile background such as norms or structure, nor an entity that becomes so mouldable that it blends in with the actions to the extent that it ceases to have a separate existence from the actions it influences. Both the form and the actions perspective tell important stories, but they are both incomplete; they leave open spaces between them which neither of them is able to fill. The argument corresponds somewhat to Clegg and Hardy when they claim that: Consequently neither structuralist nor culturalist approaches are adequate, because, as must be evident by now, neither accounts for the other, and each only focuses on some aspects of the phenomenal world that the other does not focus on at all. (Clegg and Hardy, 1996: 700)

Parsons’ work aimed at theory as stable ”templates” that would allow generalization, and this is why he worked from reliable constructs such as structure, norms

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and function. For Weick, however, the theoretical project is to provide understanding of actions and sensemaking that can be transported between contexts by the power of association. Generalization (Parsons) is systematic and objective, while association (Weick) is intuitive and subjective. Hence the theoretical projects are essentially incompatible. Form cannot be reduced to actions as much as actions cannot be reduced to form. Events, people, actions, are things that we see. Still, they take place within contexts. When a group of persons makes a decision in a room, several factors influence that decision. Whereas it may be true that a decision (actions) is based on previous decisions (actions), it is possible to conceptualize the decision as being made within a context. This context may be the four walls of the room. It may be the social relations of the group. It may also be the mental framework within which previous decisions and the current one are being made. As Weick points out (Weick 1995: 176), social sensemaking takes place within boundary conditions within which “explanations hold and outside of which they do not hold”. Whereas Weick does not pursue the questions as to what these boundary conditions might be, nor how they evolve, it is tempting to hold on to the idea that organization might be defined much in terms of these “boundary conditions”. Furthermore, to assume that the boundary conditions go beyond the here-and-now context, implies that they are neither totally immutable nor entirely mouldable by actions. Evoking the example of decisions, Powell observes that: In one sense, a statement that decisions are guided by conventions or informal premises is almost a sociological truism. The key question is where such conventions come from; as the philosopher Croce (1968: 31) puts it, “But if there are such conventions, something must exist which is no convention but is itself the author of the convention. (Powell, 1985: 145)

The form versus actions perspectives discussed above does not leave much room for conceptualizing room for conventions at levels between form and actions.

Enter “third-pole” theories The past two or three decades have witnessed attempts in social science at developing what I refer to as “third-pole” positions (Hernes 2003a) which offer different ways out of the form-actions opposition. These projects have arisen largely among European social scientists; in particular Luhmann (1995), Latour (1999a), Giddens (1979, 1984), Elias (1970) and Bourdieu (1977), and have been central to theoretical projects aiming to circumvent dichotomies in the debates alluded to above. Common to these projects is a processual view of evolution in social systems in


time and space. Positions have developed, such as autopoietic theory (Luhmann), actor network theory (Latour), structuration theory (Giddens) and process sociology (Elias). The perspective that currently has perhaps most influenced organization theory is Giddens’s structuration theory, which has paved the way for some empirical studies (e.g. Bartunek 1984; Ranson, Hinings and Greenwood 1980; Barley and Tolbert, 1997). Still, a number of works inspired by Luhmann’s autopoietic theory have emerged recently, both as theoretical conceptualization of organizational phenomena and as empirical application (e.g. Bakken and Hernes 2003a; Luhmann 2000; Gefen 2000; Holmer-Nadesan, 1997). Similarly Elias’s work has been presented as a special issue in Organization and is exclusively focused upon in van Iterson et al. (2002). Bhaskar’s critical realism is put forward by Reed (1997) as a promising way of resolving the structure-process dilemma in organization studies. Latour’s work, notably in actor network theory has influenced a number of organization researchers, including Law and Hassard (2000). I will briefly discuss their projects in turn before suggesting, in a more general way, how they may be used to stimulate different thinking about organization between the levels of form and actions.

Niklas Luhmann: Autopoietic social systems theory Luhmann’s work on autopoiesis in sociology derives from the efforts of the Chilean biologists Umberto Maturana and Francisco Varela (Maturana and Varela 1980; Varela, Maturana and Uribe, 1974), whose point of departure was the formulation of biological theory as an alternative to Darwinian ecology theory. Rather than conceive of systems to be reactive to an external environment, systems should be seen as evolving from interaction with their own states. A system cannot interact with an external environment, the argument goes, but with its own interpretation of it. In the case of communication between two persons, for example, it is not seen as parcels of information that move from one to the other. Instead, information is created with the receiver through interaction in his existing cognitive framework (Maturana 1980: 32), which again relates to previous interpretations made. This means that communication happens essentially through a process where a system (the “receiver” in this case) interacts recursively with itself, as new information only makes sense in relation to the structures created by previous information gathering (Hernes and Bakken, 2003). Such thinking is interesting in that it seeks to replace stable entities with recursion as well as replacing dichotomies with evolution. Although Luhmann’s autopoietic systems theory has only recently begun to attract the interest of organization writers, autopoietic theory per se is seen as being potentially very

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interesting for organization research (Morgan 1986; Hatch, 1997). Within a broader perspective of social research Giddens observes that, …most relevant sources of connection between biological and social theory do not involve the functional analogies so strongly represented in the history of sociology, but rather concern recursive or self-producing systems. (Giddens, 1979: 75)

Luhmann’s theory is a very extensive, intricate and rigorous framework for conceptualizing social systems, which is applied in a range of social sciences, including sociology, law, philosophy, psychology, economy and political science. Luhmann himself applied it to organizations in an analysis of decisions as the basic unit of analysis (Luhmann, 2000). Others have applied his work to various aspects of organization, including institutional formation, management, institutional reform and learning (see Bakken and Hernes, 2003a). Perhaps the most central tenet of autopoiesis is that of recursivity, which means that autopoietic systems exist through their own production and reproduction. The reader will immediately see that there is a fundamental difference with inputoutput logic of traditional organization theory whereby systems are seen to sustain themselves from exchange with their external environments. Consequently, emphasis is placed on understanding how systems produce and reproduce themselves. In order to come to grips with the conditions of reproduction, four key terms are used in the analysis: structure, process, events and temporality. Rather than isolate structure from process, Luhmann, following Whitehead ([1929]1978), views them as mutually interacting, just as “being” cannot be dissociated from “becoming” (Whitehead ([1929]1978: 23). The way Luhmann sees it, process leads to structure just as structure leads to process. The intermeshing between the two is more that mere interaction; process and structure presuppose one another. For example, in the case of budgeting, the budget may be seen as structure, in the sense that budgets serve to bind activities across time and space. Whether we speak of budgets or other means of binding activity in time-space, it is almost inconceivable that organization can exist without any such binding. On the other hand, the binding provided by budgets cannot exist independently of the activities they bind, otherwise there could be no feedback into the budgeting processes. Therefore, in the absence of activity there is nothing to inform the budget, hence budget as a structure would not be able to reproduce itself (Bakken and Hernes 2002b). Luhmann’s distinction between process and structure lies in his use of temporality, and more precisely in his distinction between the reversible and the irreversible. Structure and process are considered to exist according to different temporalities. Structures represent reversibility in that they hold a limited repertoire of possibilities open over time. Budgets, for example, stipulate limits for activity that are held open over a predetermined span of time, by providing a space working


both backward and forward in time which is held open for activity. Whereas structure may be seen as reversible, process is irreversible. Processes consist of events which, once they have taken place, cannot be undone. Events leave their imprints on the evolution of the system, whether central persons wish to purposely ignore them or not. For example, overspending the budget is an event that cannot be undone. It may be attempted rectified or otherwise compensated for, but the fact that it has taken place cannot be changed. It is in this way that one is able to see how structure is formative of process, as budgets put limits on what can be done. On the other hand, process, in the sense of events over time, give substance to structure, as structure is adjusted through processes of learning. When spending and results are assessed they are compared to budget allocations and form measures of overall performance. A central point is thus that budgets and activities (process and structure), although they are conceptually separate, also form part of one another. Activities form budgets much as budgets form activities. Thus, what Luhmann’s approach brings to light is the delicate interplay between structure and process (e.g. budgets and activity), whereby they are both intricately interwoven with one another and separate entities. A further implication is that because budgets are formative for activities, they also take part in their own reproduction. The activities generated by budgets will be implemented in the logic of the budget, which means that the activities will again tend to reinforce the logic of the (next) budget.

Bruno Latour: Networks and translation At a general level, Latour provides alternatives to the micro-macro distinction in organizational analysis. This distinction is seen as hampering rather than facilitating understanding of what happens in the social world. Rather than project actions and interactions onto macro-level constructs, such as norms and structure, we are better served by coming to grips with the networks of human and non-human links that we form in order to provide some stability to the world around us. These networks begin to be perceived as the “macro-actors” (Czarniawska and Sevón, 1996). In the absence of stable constructs such as structure and norms, theory cannot be deterministic, and Latour rejects both technical and social determinism (Latour, 1987: 141). Instead, a term he draws upon is the idea of circulating reference, which replaces what he sees as a bipolar model of reasoning which has reigned in social science. Circular reference denotes the process whereby phenomena evolve through chains of transformation, mediated by humans as well as nonhumans. The idea of circularity is that which ensures continuity and comes quite close to Luhmann’s use of recursivity discussed above.

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The idea circulating reference helps circumvent dichotomies such as between subject-object and global-local. As Lee and Hassard (1999) note, under Actor Network Theory the analytical focus shifts from structural prescription to processual deconstruction. However, this challenges the researcher to establish his or her own space of interpretation, as the choice of what to include in the network evidently influences the outcome of the analysis. Thus, it places greater responsibility with the analyst. On the other hand, it provides freedom from established categories of phenomena. In other words, it relieves the analysis of existing theoretical discriminations (Lee and Hassard, 1999). Latour’s work, some of it carried out in collaboration with Callon, informs organization studies in two major ways. First, through their studies of scientific practice, they provide explanations of how scientific paradigms propagate, notably by virtue of the quality of the translations and the work of translators. The argument stands in contrast to the assumption that paradigms are diffused by virtue of their “moral” basis (Burrell, 1996), which would dictate that paradigms extend because they are “better” than the existing ones. Latour’s stand is one of what he calls “science in the making” rather than “ready-made science” (Latour, 1987: 132). The extension of paradigms, he argues, passes through a number of translations, which are the “… interpretations given by fact-builders of their interests and that of the people they enrol”. (Latour, 1987: 108). Scientific paradigms extend through connections and mediations and become embedded through interest and conviction: If the traditional picture had the motto “The more disconnected a science the better”, science studies says, “The more connected a science the more accurate it may become.” The quality of a science’s reference [meaning the many practices that end up in articulating propositions — my note] does not come from some salto mortale out of discourse and society in order to access things, but depends rather on the extent of its transformations, the safety of its connections, the progressive accumulation of its mediations, the number of interlocutors it engages, its ability to make nonhumans accessible to words, its capacity to interest and to convince others, and its routine institutionalization of these flows. (Latour, 1999:97)

The position is a distinct departure from assumptions of scientific evolution, such as that of Popper, who works from the idea that observation statements are accepted by their ability to survive tests, and that those that survive all the tests are tentatively retained (Chalmers, 1978). It constitutes also a revision of early thinking in organization theory which, as pointed out above, was based on the idea of testing generalizations (Scott, 1998). A second way in which Latour’s work has made its way into organization studies is in the study of how ideas and models of organizing evolve and travel, which has come to be seen as a “European-Scandinavian” branch of new institu-


tionalism (see Czarniawska and Sevón, 1996). New institutionalism, as it is conceptualized through the works of Meyer and Rowan (1977) and DiMaggio and Powell (1983), focuses on how ideas and models of organization spread as rationalized myths. Organizations adopt new structures, they argue, not so much because they are objectively more suitable for efficiency, but because they are legitimized in the external environment. This explains, for example, why organizations tend to become similar in structure as recipes for organizing attain globalized standards. It explains why, for example many organizations adopt widely circulated models such as total quality management, process re-engineering and outsourcing, to name but a few. Thus the phenomenon of “isomorphism” arises, e.g. similarity of structure, as organizations take on increasingly similar ideas. The theory does not, of course, take on the triviality of all organizations de facto becoming identical within a population of organizations. Rather, organizations retain an “inner life” which is unique to each and every one itself, but establish an “outer identity” that serves as legitimization in the wider society. This is what Meyer and Rowan (1977) call “de-coupling”, similar to what Brunsson (1989) refers to as “organizational hypocrisy”. A governing assumption of this central branch of new institutionalism is that explanations are provided by the models and ideas that travel throughout organizational fields; in other words, they spread, or, using Latour’s terminology, they are diffused. “Diffusion”, argue Czarniawska and Sevón (1996: 6), however, suggests a physical process, subject to the laws of physics. To interpret the adoption of organizational ideas and models through the lens of the ideas and models is a perspective which ignores the historicity of the organization in question as well as its own participation in the process of adaptation. Instead, Latour’s “antithesis” to diffusion, the idea of translation is put forward as a competing model of explanation. Ideas cannot extend unless they are actively reproduced and subjected to circular referencing, as mentioned above. They have to be continuously rewritten as they spread (Sahlin-Andersson, 1996). However, although translation takes place locally, it is not to be seen as a purely local process in opposition to that which is “global”. Local and global knowledge exists as different knowledge. The map of the Sakhlin Islands, which Latour uses as an example, exists both in the minds of the local Chinese fishermen and in the scientific cartography of European cartographers (Latour 1987: 228–229). There is no opposition between these two knowledges. Instead, they form part of networks inside of which knowledge is built to mobilize, cumulate and recombine the world (Latour 1987: 228). In other words, they may be seen as being located locally, but projected upon a distant level.

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Norbert Elias: Figurational or process sociology Elias’s sociology is commonly referred to as a sociology of “figurations”. The idea of figuration reflects Elias’s scepticism towards constructs that lock the analyst into deceptive correlations of group processes with fixed states. An example is the idea of structure, for example, which to Elias is a term that to a too great extent implies assumption of bondedness to something that lies outside the group. The assumption of structure of a group, for example, implies that a group has a structure, and can too easily be interpreted as if the group were something apart from the people who form it (Elias and Dunning, 1986). What Elias points out is that what we call “structure” is pattern, or figuration, of interdependent individual people who form the group. Thus, what we term “structures” are “figurations”. Figurations are dependent on people, as without people there are no figurations. Notwithstanding, they may be relatively independent of which people make them up, as they persist while people come and go. These figurations are neither purely processes nor are they “structure”, but they are dependency patterns that lie close to the level of actions. Moreover, these patterns relate to the grander patterns of “society”. As imagery of figuration, Elias uses the illustration of dancing: One should think of a mazurka, a minuet, a polonaise, a tango, or rock ‘n’ roll. The image of the mobile figurations of interdependent people on a dance floor perhaps makes it easier to imagine states, cities, families and also capitalist, communist and feudal systems as figurations. By using this concept, we can eliminate the antithesis, resting finally on different values and ideals, imminent today in the use of the words “individual” and “society.” One can certainly speak of a dance in general, but no-one will imagine a dance as a structure outside the individual or as a mere abstraction. The same dance figurations can certainly be danced by different people; but without a plurality of reciprocally oriented and dependent individuals, there is no dance. Like every other social figuration, a dance figuration is relatively independent of the specific individuals forming it here and now, but not of individuals as such. It would be absurd to say that dances are mental constructions abstracted from observations of individuals considered separately. The same applies to all other figurations. Just as small dance figurations change — becoming now slower, now quicker — so too, gradually or more suddenly, do the large societies. (Elias, 1994: 214)

The writing of Elias is characterized by a rejection of those theoretical arguments that seek reductions to form. Figurations unfold; they cannot be reduced to states. The process of change cannot be reduced to descriptions of different states and the descriptions of change as simply the difference between the states, as Elias points out (Elias, 1970). Instead, it is more useful to examine possible causal forces at different levels within the figuration. These forces undergo modification with


changes in figuration; hence change is neither definite nor linear, and consequently the pace and consequences of change are unknown to the individual actors, however powerful he or she is. The significance of the causal forces existing within the figuration is that change of the figuration is explained partly by the endogenous dynamics of the figuration itself (Goudsblom and Mennell, 1998). In other words, figuration contains the seeds of its own change. The civilizing process in Elias’s work is largely about the convergence of social forces in groups that serve to stabilize internal conditions while protecting the group outwards. What is being “civilized” is members’ behaviour, or “etiquette”. Contrary to being some side effect of a social order, etiquette is intertwined with it. The relationship between the two may be described as a sort of “double bind” (Bateson, 1972) in the sense that etiquette cannot be broken because breach of etiquette would signal upsetting the social ordering, i.e. the power balance between important groups. The “etiquette” corresponds to the expected behaviour that people perform because it is pertinent to their roles in society. It is worth noting that similarly to the work in this book, Bateson works from the idea of context, which he applies to his theory of learning. A certain level of learning requires that the subject is able to recognize different contexts, otherwise the (seemingly) same stimulus would be reacted to identically in different contexts. In order to be able to distinguish between contexts, Bateson uses the expression “context markers”. A context marker allows us, for example, to recognize that a murder on a theatre stage is not a reason to call the police. Interestingly, Bateson, in providing examples of context markers, mentions “the observances of etiquette” (Bateson 1972: 290). In Elias’s writings we find this in the idea of “group charisma” and “group disgrace” (Elias and Scotson, 1994), which brings to our attention the importance of processes of social sealing as groups establish identities distinguished from other groups. Individuals become impregnated by the “we-image” (Elias, 1991) of the group or organization, which they learn not to upset through self-regulation and adherence to etiquette. Through this work Elias demonstrates the relationship between individual and group and how the two form part of each another. In so doing he seeks to offer an alternative to analyses that isolate individual and group at two different levels. He rejects the “homo clausus” in the invisible wall conceptualized between person and group, as is done in Westen sociology (Elias, 1991).

Anthony Giddens: Structuration theory Giddens’s structuration theory joins Luhmann’s autopoiesis in its focus on recursivity and structure. Structure, in Giddens’s definition, consists of the rules

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and resources, or sets of transformation relations, organized as properties of social systems. Structure performs the binding of time-space in social systems, something that makes it possible for “discernibly similar social practices to exist across varying spans of time-space and which lend them ‘systemic’ form” (Giddens 1984: 17). Structuration relates to the continuity and the transmutation of structures and takes place as these are produced and reproduced. Structure is reproduced by virtue of actors’ actions, being embedded in the structure. Structure, thus, is the very medium of social practice as it provides the rules and resources necessary for action. An empirical example is provided by Barley and Tolbert (1997) in their analysis of scanners in two hospital departments. The creation of meaning becomes central as structure makes actions meaningful, which is illustrated by Barley and Tolbert’s (1997) use of “scripts” in a study of structuration in two radiology departments. A key element of Giddens’s structuration theory is that of duality. Structure, is the medium of actions, but it is also the outcome of actions. According to Giddens (1979), the duality of structure embodies the essential recursiveness of social life. The use of both rules and resources in the definition of structure reflects Giddens’s (1984: 169) insistence that structure is both what he calls constraining and enabling. Structure, argues Giddens, has been seen as one-sidedly constraining, notably through the influence of Durkheim. Giddens argues, for example, that Foucault’s treatment of confinement in locales as being exclusively oppressive is inadequate. Giddens seeks to expand on Foucault’s perception of space as a means of repression and, while drawing on Goffman’s (1961) analysis of institutions, and agreeing with the repressive potential of the use of space, he opens up the mobilizing aspects of space. Space creates room for mobilizing social action. A dual view of the effects of structure does offer increased scope for understanding how action is both embedded structurally and may change the structure in which they are embedded. Giddens does not, however, offer explanations of how the change of structure may happen. We infer that structure is changed by actors, as he points out that change may take place unintendedly. However, the actor in his structuration theory is relegated to the role of reproducer of structure and, where the actor is involved with change, he or she merely observes the change taking place.

What do they add up to? The perspectives mentioned here differ considerably in scope and substance. They differ for example on central notions, such as the subject, the idea of structure, the nature of process and several others. Nevertheless, they revolve around concerns that connect a common denominator, of which connection is the provision of


alternative theories for explaining time-space evolution of social systems. They share a number of concerns (Hernes 2003a): First, a desire to develop theory that does not fall prey to perceptions of entities as acting in simple dichotomous relationships (e.g. Elias, 1970) such as between actors and structure, subject and object, process and structure. Attempts are instead made at collapsing dichotomies into views of relationships as dualist (Giddens, 1984), recursive (Luhmann, 1995) or circulating (Latour, 1999a). Second, a desire to develop theory that is close to the world of actions, yet one that fathoms more stable contexts for actions (e.g. Elias, 1970; Latour, 1999). Abstractions, using terms such as structure, culture and norms are seen as too distanced from local situations to be able to provide good explanations (Latour 1999b: 17) of phenomena. Third, a desire to offer social theory that rebuilds bridges to natural sciences (e.g. Bhaskar, 1978; Luhmann, 1995), while avoiding the “naturalizing” of social systems that took place in the latter part of the twentieth century. Fourth, a desire to relax the demand on theory as a means of prediction and rather than see theory as a template against which phenomena are assessed, see it as a means of providing plausible explanations of evolutions and particular phenomena. Fifth, a desire to explain continuity and reproduction of time-space contexts for human action and interactions (e.g. Latour, 1999; Luhmann, 1995; Bhaskar, 1978; Giddens, 1984). Rather than to provide definite forms to time-space contexts, emphasis is laid on the dynamics of their evolution. The dynamic is seen in a recursive sense whereby, for example, structural properties work as both medium and outcome of social processes (e.g. Giddens, 1984). Sixth, a desire to lend focus to the dynamics of evolving contexts for human action and interactions. This may open up for explanation not only of how such contexts come into being but also how other contexts may not materialize, how some endure and how others pass as ephemeral. Positions such as those mentioned here are naturally difficult to reconcile, but they provide, nevertheless, stimulus for working towards alternatives to the formactions dichotomy in organization theory. They propose types of contexts and evolution for action and interaction. Moreover, they construe contexts from the point of view of being able to explain evolution across time and space. We shall return to this in more detail below.

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Summing up The chapter has described the wide gap between theories of form and action and it has related the positions to the works by Parsons and Weick respectively, both of whom are considered influential in organization studies. The point is made that differences between these theoretical projects have divided organization theory and that normative overtones have somewhat clouded the science issues and have partly come in the way of opening up alternative schools of thought. If a spatial view of organization is to be developed as a useful analytic tool, it is necessary to conceptualize a proximity between context and actions where the context influences actions and actions influence the context in turn. The theories of action and form respectively are basically incompatible, therefore they cannot be readily combined with each other. The argument is made that perspectives offered in contemporary European sociology offer an alternative to the divide between actions and form. Salient features of the work of Luhmann, Latour, Giddens and Elias have been briefly discussed in relation to the action-structure relationship and six connecting points between their theories have been suggested.

Chapter 3

Organization as context The new value placed on the transitory, the elusive and the ephemeral, the very celebration of dynamism, discloses a longing for an undefiled, immaculate and stable present. (Habermas, in Harvey, 1990: 325) A little historicity spawns relativism, a great deal engenders realism. (Latour, 1996: 91)

Between the levels of form and actions the notion emerges of contexts of action and interaction. Such contexts may stay within or transcend time and space boundaries of organizations. Contemporary projects in social science discussed in Chapter 2 enable us to formulate at least four different questions related to contexts. The question of emergence relates to the conditions under which contexts are produced. The question of history and time relates to how properties of contexts are created over time. The question of reproduction relates to properties of context that enable them to produce and reproduce themselves over space and time. The question of the subject relates to the different ways of conceptualizing the subject in relation to the evolution of contexts.

The notion of contexts The previous chapters suggest that we might take altogether different views of organization than more dominant mainstream organization theory. It suggests that we should pay attention to the multiple nature of organization, further that we might pursue levels of analysis that may be different from form and actions. Organization scholars are having to cope with two pressures. First, the pressure of satisfying empirical questions that emerge in contemporary society, business, administration and industry. It is unlikely that current organization and management theory really responds to the multiple problems faced by managers and consultants around the world. The hegemony enjoyed by the American management literature over the past decades relates to the many attempts among organizations worldwide to adopt structures and practices from large American companies. The emerging landscape of organizations is not one of well-defined entities interacting with one another the way that organizations are pictured in much

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popular literature. Instead, there is a multi-level complexity between actors of different types whose patterns of interaction and their consequences that require understanding. For one, the interplay between society, professions and commercial and industrial actors of different size and types preoccupy increasingly the minds of managers. There is no way that managers can any longer have near complete overview (which they never did have anyway) of the chains of interaction and their possible consequences. The challenge lies more in being conscious of how they delimit their horizon of understanding and how they then deal with these limits. Second, and partly related to the first, organization theory will benefit more from adopting insights and models from social science in general. Complexity and multi-level analysis require that a number of constructs such as structure, boundaries, change and several others are studied from different perspectives, but that they are translated to the world of practitioners. I have argued above that the choice between form and actions is too restricted and that there are insights in social sciences that can be helpful in developing alternative models of thought. It is important, though, that such models are translated or otherwise made communicable to practitioners so as to allow them to take part in enriching them further. It is in the enrichment through application to settings and dialogue with practitioners that organization studies becomes a reflexive field of study. The frameworks used by social scientists are often alien to those who work and live inside organizations, and this alienation is in itself an obstacle to further theoretical development. It is necessary that vocabularies are used that correspond somewhat to the vocabularies of the actors who work in the organization. Second, the models need to respond to their concerns. Third, models should come close to phenomena as practitioners perceive them. In their introduction to a recent special forum on change and development for the Academy of Management Journal, Pettigrew, Woodman and Cameron (2001) launch an appeal for works on organization change that respond to what they refer as a pluralistic world. The two main challenges facing organization change research, they claim, are on the one hand to ensure an even stronger engagement between social science and management research and on the other hand to explore multiple levels of analysis. They suggest specifically that the organizational change literature remains underdeveloped with regard to six analytical issues: 1. The examination of multiple contexts and levels of analysis in studying organizational change. 2. The inclusion of time, history, process, and action. 3. The link between change processes and performance outcomes. 4. The investigation of international and cross-cultural comparisons in research on organizational change.

Organization as context

5. The study of receptivity, customization, sequencing, pace, and episodic versus continuous change processes. 6. The partnership between scholars and practitioners in studying organizational change. Whereas two of these suggestions (3 and 4) point towards correlational studies and one (6) relates to collaboration between communities in the research on organizational change, the remaining three (1, 2 and 5) are of particular interest to our concerns. They relate specifically to the need to conceptualize and combine levels of analysis in space and time. The authors refer to the term “context”, which I pointed towards in the previous section as being a theme among “third-pole theories”. Applied to life in organizations, “context” relates to continuity of actions and interactions in time-space. Interactions are framed by what is somewhat loosely referred to as “context”. The context is seen as delimiting that which influences actions and interactions from that which does not. For example, in the case of sensemaking, a context may be seen as delineating those explanations that hold from those that do not. Contexts play two different roles, according to Weick (1995: 51). First, they influence what is extracted as cues for sensemaking. This point is reflected in the decision literature, notably that influenced by Herbert Simon. Organizations, according to Simon, help individuals to make better decisions, such as by specifying the outer limits to the choice of the individual (Simon, 1976: 8–9). A second role of contexts, according to Weick, as that they affect how extracted cues are interpreted. Whereas the former relates to cues in their more “objective” and classified form, the latter refers to the significance that are given to them, such as whether they are to be seen as important-unimportant, positive-negative, pleasant-unpleasant, etc. A case in point is how decisions are made on the basis on past experience, for example in a sales organization. A drop in sales is the cue extracted from the experience, where the context is the system of recording and forecasting sales. As to the significance of the drop in sales, on the other hand, the social context often matters, where explanations are of a more personal nature, where preferences, histories and personal likes and dislikes affect what comes to be defined as the significance of the drop in sales. This is but one of many examples of the use of contexts in the study of organization. The critical reader may rightfully object that studying contexts for actions and interactions has been the main focus of organization theory since Weber and that it has been a concern running through virtually all genres that have wrestled with phenomena inside organizations. Cultures, rules, stories, buildings, groups, intranets, budgets, beliefs, management styles, knowledge, symbols, interpretations and scores of other phenomena form all contexts for action and

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interaction. Moreover, they have been studied and discussed in thousands of conference papers, articles and books in which their various effects have been demonstrated. The aim is not to add yet another to this huge body. The aim is rather to approach contexts from an evolutionary perspective, in the sense that the focus in on how they unfold in time and space. Still, it may not be obvious to the reader how an evolutionary view of context corresponds to the study of organization and organizations. In order to provide an idea of the perspective I have developed a very rough model of main perspectives in organization studies (Table 1). The table has two dimensions. Horizontally the distinction is made between organization as context and organization in context. The former treats individuals, groups, actions and behaviour as the basic unit of analysis and aims typically to study how aspects of organization influence actions and interactions inside the organization. The second dimension views the organization as the basic unit of analysis and relates it to factors in the environment. Each of these dimensions can be seen against a simultaneous versus an evolutionary perspective. By far most studies of organizations can be characterized as simultaneity studies, where parameters are fitted into a simultaneous timeframe. Such studies are typically based on correlation of entities. Evolutionary studies, on the other hand, work along a timescale and aim to understand how states of affairs set the stage for what follows. Such studies are much more rare, probably because they are more time demanding and because reliable data are harder to obtain. The perspective taken in this book belongs in the bottom left corner of the table. The notion of contexts used here is partly inspired by Giddens’s structuration theory. Giddens, who develops his structuration theory on the basis of how action and interaction are framed in society, says the following about context: The study of context, or of the contextualities of interaction, is inherent in the investigation of social reproduction. “Context” involves the following: (a) the time-space boundaries (usually having symbolic or physical markers) around interaction strips; (b) the co-presence of actors, making possible the visibility of a diversity of facial expressions, bodily gestures, linguistic and other media of communication; (c) awareness and use of these phenomena reflexively to influence or control the flow of interaction. (Giddens, 1984: 282)

The passage from Giddens is useful in more than one way. First, context is seen as having time-space boundaries, and these may have both physical and symbolic characteristics. In other words, contexts embody both symbolic and instrumental characteristics, something that places them apart from the type of distinctions made, notably in new institutionalist theory. Second, context allows for awareness and reflection, allowing actors to influence it in turn. This point appears important in two ways. It is important in the sense that actors are neither seen as powerless when it comes to change of the context, nor are they seen as being powerful to


Table 1.Two dimensions of analyses of context in organization studies Organizations as contexts: studies how various aspects of organizations influence actions and interactions inside the organization

Organizations in contexts: studies how organizational characteristics relate to factors in the organization’s external environment

Simultaneity perspective: correlation of factors within simultaneous timeframe

Examples:

Examples:

Evolutionary perspective: analysis of evolution over time

Examples:

– – – – –

–

–

Org. culture studies – decision theory – management studies – group studies organizational behaviour

New institutionalism contingency studies resource dependence theory

Examples:

“Old” institutional theo- – ry some organization – change studies evolution of contexts over time and space

Organizational ecology economic history/ business history

change it at will. Instead, they are seen as observers who may influence the context. It is important in another way, in the sense that contexts frame actions, which again set the stage for new actions. This corresponds to the concerns of Pettigrew et al. with regard to the research on organizations and change: [the above-mentioned] programs of research on change, innovation, and creativity place great emphasis on the role of contexts in the processual analysis of change. If the change process is the stream of analysis, the terrain around the stream that shapes the field of events, and is in turn shaped by them, is a necessary part of the investigation. (Pettigrew, Woodman and Cameron, 2001: 700)

In the citation they make reference both to contexts and to the dynamism by which contexts shape interactions and become shaped by them in turn. The authors do not pursue the meaning of contexts other than suggesting rather vaguely that change takes place in contexts. Still, to conceptualize contexts and their dynamics is a project that is not yet accomplished in organization studies. Moreover, it is a point where contemporary projects in social science may be combined to increase our understanding. Third, and this comes first in the passage from Giddens, the study of context, or of the contextualities of interaction, is inherent in the investigation of social reproduction. The use of an evolutionary perspective obliges us to search for that which connects over time and space, something that is somehow localized but yet

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overarching. Localized in the sense that it connects to actions; overarching in the sense that it extends beyond actions.

Four questions for the study of context Weick’s (1995: 51) use of the term “context” refers to “local contingencies”. Thus, in the way the Weick uses the term “context” it is seen as being purely local, something that is consistent with his view of organization as actions and interpretations. No doubt many contexts, such as meetings, encounters and events may be viewed as localized in time-space in relation to the organization at large. And no doubt local contexts may sometimes be of great importance to the life, not only in an organization, but also to the organization at large. But to give contexts a purely local status cuts them loose from the broader aspects of life in and around organizations. Admittedly, cues are always interpreted in local contexts. The implications of a drop in sales, for example, are dealt with in management meetings. This corresponds somewhat to what Giddens (1984) refers to as “locales”, which may be seen as arenas where actors are co-present in time and space. But the fact that all (or most) interpretation takes place in localized contexts does not mean that contexts of greater time-space extension do not influence actions and interactions as well. Rather, I would argue that local contexts may serve as contexts of last instance (and by no means unimportant) interpretation, but that the background for these localized contexts is formed by contexts of greater time-space extension. Take, for example, budgets in organizations. Budgets are decided upon in meetings (if we disregard for the moment all the informal manoeuvring, tactics and games that takes place outside meetings). Once they have been decided upon, however, budgets form contexts for a great many decisions and actions. Moreover, the actions that take place in the budgeting period set the scene for new budgets, which are again decided in a localized context. In these localized contexts, “local contingencies” enter the stage. However, they do so within the larger context created by the preceding period. So, what we see is that although localized contexts may be decisive, they take place within contexts of greater time-space extension than themselves. These greater time-space contexts will normally be more decisive of more important developments. Another example is entirely different and relates to a situation familiar to all of us. In their analysis of the exercise of power in the French education system, Bourdieu and Passeron illustrate how culture is preserved through the maintenance of certain contexts. Their observation of the situation in the classroom is particularly instructive and familiar:


The lecturer finds in the particularities of the space which the traditional institution arranges for him (the platform, the professional chair at the focal point on which all gazes converge) material and symbolic conditions which enable him to keep the students at a respectful distance and would oblige him to do so even if he did not wish to. Elevated and enclosed in the space which crowns him orator, separated from his audience, if numbers permit, by a few empty rows which materially mark the distance the laity fearfully keep before the mana of the Word…. (Bourdieu and Passeron, 1977: 109)

This is definitely a localized context. Classes last around 45 minutes before there is a new class or perhaps a different teacher. Still, it is a situation which remains in the memories of many and in many ways has come to represent at least the traditional education system. In other words, they are important in forming our views of traditional educational institutions. On the other hand, these classes cannot reproduce themselves if there is no other context that has a greater timespace extension and which allows the classes to be reproduced regularly. These “other” contexts may be found in a broader set of features of the education system, and Bourdieu and Passeron (1977: 10) identify the reproductive forces in the customary (e.g. habitual) and institutional (e.g., symbolic) mechanisms that facilitate the maintenance of order from one generation to the next in the educational system. A key tenet of contexts, then, whatever their definition, is that they must be seen to extend in time-space. It is not conceivable (at least to me) how anything that frames actions and interactions in any significant way can be devoid of extension in time or space. To the extent that Luhmann’s (1995) autopoietic systems theory applies to our thinking, it is instructive to note his observation that, in order to uphold itself, a system must reproduce itself through events, and for this to take place it is indispensable that events are able to connect to later events. The connection from one event to the next is in Luhmann’s thinking provided by structure. The importance of events is brought out in a number of works in organization theory. Weick (1979), for one, goes as far as using events as a unit of analysis. I have already cited him above, where he argues that what we will find when looking for “organization” is events linked together (Weick 1974: 358). March and Olsen (1976), in discussing organizational actions and learning under conditions of ambiguity, also draw on the notion of events. Events, in their context, are formative for how participants in organizations attribute meaning and provide explanations of the past. Luhmann, as well as Latour, add to works by such as Weick, March and colleagues, by offering alternative analysis and a stronger emphasis on the actual nature of reproduction. The choice of perspective has profound consequences for how we study phenomena as well as the very nature of the phenomena themselves.

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Latour argues that: Our philosophical tradition has been mistaken in wanting to make phenomena the meeting point between things-in-themselves and categories of human understanding. Realists, empiricists, idealists, and assorted rationalists have fought ceaselessly among themselves around this bipolar model. Phenomena, however, are not found at the meeting point between things and the forms of the human mind; phenomena are what circulates all along the reversible chain of transformations, at each step losing some properties to gain others that render them compatible with alreadyestablished centers of calculation. (Latour, 1999: 71)

Extending in time or space means essentially that the context is capable of some degree of reproduction. Reproduction in time means that some mechanism or other enables some form of reappearance at another point in time, but without assuming that the past can fully determinate of the present and the future. Reproduction in space means that a context may extend from one actor or a group of actors to another actor or group of actors. This has wider implications for how we study contexts. They cannot be seen to be mere perpetuum mobiles that already exist and continue to exist. For one, contexts must be seen to emerge out of something. They are not perpetual, nor do they arrive from out of the blue. Hence, their emergence becomes an important point of departure. Second, contexts, because they are seen to evolve over time, develop their own histories. Histories confer characteristics upon contexts which influence how they are construed by actors. Third, contexts extend in time and space. They are moulded, translated and transferred between people and between places. Fourth, contexts involve subjects. They shape subjects by influencing their thinking and their behaviour. On the other hand, they are also shaped by subjects, although they extent of change depends on the time-space extension of the context. These four questions related to contexts are dealt with in more detail below.

The question of emergence Emergence, as defined in semiotics, relates to “that which lets/makes happen” (Greimas and Courtés in Gomart and Hennion, 1999). Emergence takes place through what Latour (1999: 150) refers to as making a difference, something is created that differentiates itself from everything else. As Latour suggests, “differences are all that we require, at first, to set a lively historicity into motion” (Latour, 1999: 150). For it to emerge, however, it has to make a difference to what was there already. This is what Bateson (1972: 459) calls the difference which makes a difference. Bateson suggests that difference is synonymous with “idea”, and that there are an infinite number of differences (ideas) around. Of this infinitude we


select a very limited number — the elementary unit of information — which is the difference that makes a difference. The property that provides this significant difference, according to Bateson, is its ability to travel along pathways fuelled by its own energy. Contexts continually emerge in organizations. Some seem to be created haphazardly from chance encounters between ideas, people and problems in a “garbage can” (Cohen, March and Olsen, 1972) sort of way, whereas others appear to be created from planned intervention. Some contexts hardly see the light of day before they disappear, whereas others endure and take on importance. A telling example of emerging context and its consequences is found with Lanzara’s account of the aftermath of an earthquake in Italy in 1980. It is worth quoting at some length, because it shows the transition whereby a context for actions emerged, then disappeared. The first day after the quake, in a corner of a shattered village ‘piazza’, a young fellow had set up a really basic coffee shop with rudimentary equipment, consisting of a small desk, a portable gas stove, two gas containers, three coffee machines, coffee packs, sugar, plastic cups and spoons, matches and tanks of water…. The place was crowded: people met there and rested, exchanged information, told stories to each other, made plans and got organized. The third day nobody was there. The coffee shop had been dismantled. Why? The Army had militarized the area and had established checkpoints to control access to the village. To get in and out, an official permit released by the local authorities was needed, and for private individuals and non-sponsored groups, it was extremely difficult to get the permit and go through the checkpoints. (Lanzara, 1983: 71)

The example shows how a context for action was established. However trivial it may seem to be providing hot coffee, the young fellow probably played a pivotal role in the rescue work. Lanzara’s story suggests that his coffee stand became a sort of hub of ad hoc knowledge exchange and planning. However, the emerging context created by the young coffeemaker was quenched when the public rescue teams moved in with their formal systems regulating access to and from the disaster area. If it were not for the keen eye of an organization researcher (Lanzara), what was here a flicker of life in a chaotic reality would have been lost forever. It is reasonable to assume that contexts emerge continually in organizations. What renders us insensitive to them is that when we study organizations we tend to want to explain phenomena that have evolved into some identifiable, achieved state. In many cases, we want to show how something became a commercial, technological or institutional achievement, probably because this makes the research appear more spectacular and at the same time it provides it with a degree of validity (the evolution has manifestly taken place, so a reasonable explanation cannot easily be discarded).

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One problem with considering organization as a completed state is that we tend to express more its actuality (what it “is”) and less its potentiality (what it might be in the process of becoming). This distinction is borrowed from the philosopher Whitehead’s ([1929]1978), formulation of the “process of becoming”, where “becoming” is not a finality but the attainment of actuality in the form of events. When we focus on the state that is in being, we are less able to grasp the basis that is being laid for new, potential states. Our analysis of achieved states will in many ways satisfy criteria of validity and reliability. They have difficulty, however, in showing what might become. Contexts are safe and predictable places, but they are also transitions to something else, something exciting, maybe powerful and joyful. From Harvey (1990: 10) I have borrowed a quote from Berman, although it ends on a gloomy note: There is a mode of vital experience — experience of space and time, of the self and others, of life’s possibilities and perils — that is shared by men and women all over the world today. I will call this body of experience ‘modernity’. To be modern is to find ourselves in an environment that promises adventure, power, joy, growth, transformation of ourselves and the world — and, at the same time, that threatens to destroy everything we have, everything we know, everything we are. (Berman, 1982: 15)

Paying attention to how contexts emerge should be useful for understanding the formative stages of organization as well as how they evolve and persist. Conventional organization theory, having been primarily concerned with explaining the effects of achieved contexts of organizing, have paid scant attention to the conditions under which contexts actually emerge, as functionalist theory has operated from the assumption that systems grow out of shared norms (Parsons, 1951), something that is refuted by autopoietic systems theory (Luhmann, 1995). This provides for determinist accounts of how contexts come into being, and leaves out a range of factors that might have spurred a different trajectory of evolution.

The question of history and time Events, people and interactions leave their imprints over time, which influences the present context. Thus contexts embody the histories of their evolution, as interpretations of their present states are made on the basis of their history. It means that they take on both functional and symbolic qualities in terms of the meaning conferred upon them over time. This may also be called the historicity of evolution, as what we wish to explain is not merely that history with its events has taken place, but that they leave imprints on the phenomena we study. Latour’s formulation of historicity versus history is useful here, where he distinguishes history as the


passage of time from historicity as what actually takes place; the events and their mediations (Latour 1999: 306). History may tell us how contexts have evolved. Historicity, on the other hand, tells us about the significance of history in the present. Lefebvre formulates it thus: If space is produced, if there is a productive process, then we are dealing with history; here we have the fourth implication of our hypothesis. The history of space, of its production qua ‘reality’ and of its forms and representations, is not to be confused either with the causal chain of ‘historical’ (i.e. dated) events, or with a sequence, whether teleological or not, of customs and laws, ideals and ideology, and socio-economic structures or institutions (superstructures). But we may be sure that the forces of production (nature; labour and the organization of labour; technology and knowledge) and, naturally, the relations of production play a part — though we have not yet defined it — in the production of space. (Lefebvre, 1991: 46)

Giddens provides a similar image of historicity versus history, in formulating historicity as: The identification of history as progressive change, coupled with the cognitive utilization of such identification in order to further that change. Historicity involves a particular view of what “history” is, which means using knowledge of history in order to change it. (Giddens,(1984: 374)

It is also useful to repeat Bourdieu (1977), who argues that what he calls a “theory of practice” is necessary to counter the often reductionist view reflected in methodological objectivism. Bourdieu makes precisely this point about history and time; that methodological objectivism has worked from the idea of human practice being reified in structures that lie outside individual history and group history. In order to offer an alternative to such reductions, Bourdieu recommends that we abandon ideas whereby social order is seen through the lens of “statistical regularity or algebraic structure” (Bourdieu 1977: 72) and that we engage in observing how orders are actually produced. Rather than observe the world as if it consisted of a dichotomy between macro-level structures and human actions, Bourdieu suggests a recursive view, such as the way that he views the structuring of the “habitus”. The habitus produces practices which influence the habitus in turn. However, it is important to note that this is not a closed process of recursivity. Rather, recursivity in itself reveals new horizons of opportunity, what Bourdieu (but also Whitehead ([1929]1978) refers to as “potentiality”. Hence, recursivity signifies reproduction, but also change: The habitus, the durably installed generative principle of regulated improvizations, produces practices which tend to reproduce the regularities imminent in the objective conditions of the production of their generative principle, while

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adjusting to the demands inscribed as objective potentialities in the situation, as defined by the cognitive and motivating structures making up the habitus. (Bourdieu, 1977: 78)

And, therefore, Even when they appear as the realization of the explicit, and explicitly stated, purposes of a project or plan, the practices produced by the habitus, as the strategygenerating principle enabling agents to cope with the unforeseen and ever-changing situations, are only apparently determined by the future. If they seem determined by anticipation of their own consequences, thereby encouraging the finalist illusion, the fact is that, always tending to reproduce the objective structures of which they are the product, they are determined by the past conditions which have produced the principle of their production…. (Bourdieu, 1977:72)

There are definitive similarities between this view and the ideas found, notably in Luhmann’s autopoietic theory and Giddens’s structuration theory. Some studies in organization theory show how certain events and processes influence later outcomes, such as organizational identity and organization culture. Schein (1983), for example, reports from a study of how the personality and ideologies of founders may influence organizational culture and structure over time. He shows also how characteristics created by founders may erode as organizations attain a size that requires professional management. However, time-related studies are still relatively rare, perhaps because longitudinal studies are either time-consuming to carry out (Pettigrew’s (1985) study of ICI took a number of years) or because rigorous data representing evolution over longer time periods are difficult to obtain. Longer time span studies aside, a number of theorists tie decisions to past experiences. In particular March (1988) and Brunsson (1985) refer to how successes are likely to be repeated while actions associated with failure will be avoided. However, such studies limit the analysis to the level of actions and they do not explore specifically how structures of various forms come to embody the history of failure and success.

The question of reproduction A central question of “third-pole” theories is that of reproduction (e.g. Latour, 1999a; Luhmann, 1995; Giddens, 1984; Bourdieu and Passeron, 1977) of contexts for human action and interaction. Reproduction is not limited to the idea of extension, but also to the idea of referencing, or recursivity (Hernes and Bakken, 2003). As extension, contexts expand or travel over time and space. They do not merely extend in a linear fashion; they also continually reproduce themselves. It is impossible to imagine a context that is not reproduced in one way or other. A case


in point in organization theory is the enormous extension of bureaucracy in the twentieth century. Bureaucracy, in a Weberian sense, entails the framing of activity over time and space by the use of formal rules. Such binding of resources enables stability and predictability in a way that appeals to management and organization members alike. Weber’s argument for bureaucracy, and also his fear of bureaucracy, was its popularity and functional appeal. However, although the conception of extension by virtue of pregiven characteristics is useful, it is not sufficient, in the view of Luhmann (1995) and Latour (1999) in particular, to account for why systems extend. In order for a system to extend, it needs to be capable of reproduction, i.e. to be able to evolve recursively over time and space. This is a key tenet of Bourdieu and Passeron’s well-known study of the French educational system where they demonstrate how structure and class relations are reproduced socially. In fact, it forms a core idea of Bourdieu’s influential work. Bourdieu calls for a “science of the reproduction of structures” that would be: A study of the laws whereby structures tend to reproduce themselves by producing agents invested with the system of dispositions which is able to engender practices adapted to these structures and thus contribute to their reproduction. (Bourdieu, in Swartz, 1997: 7)

Bourdieu emphasizes the agent, something that relates to his focus on power. In their study of the French educational system Bourdieu and Passeron point out how agencies located in the hierarchy serve to perpetuate basic ideas of the pedagogy: [Pedagogic authority] entails pedagogic work (PW), a process of inculcation which must last long enough to produce a durable training, i.e. a habitus, the product of internalization of the principles of a cultural arbitrary capable of perpetuating itself after [the pedagogic authority] has ceased and thereby of perpetuating in practices the internalized arbitrary. (Bourdieu and Passeron, 1977: 31)

Reproduction, or recursivity, also lies at the core of Giddens’s (1984: 25) structuration theory; that social systems in which structure is recursively implicated comprise the situated activities of actors across time and space. So, to say that bureaucracy spreads because it is inherently appealing only provides us with part of the story. Another part lies in the ability of bureaucracy to be self-generating, i.e. to reproduce itself through its own momentum, independently of its functional appeal. In this latter explanation bureaucracy is seen as a sort of Trojan horse which, once it has entered a space, conquers it, loath to leave again. Weber was not at all oblivious to this latter “reproductive” explanation of the expansion of bureaucratic mode of organization, only he did not distinguish clearly between the two. In Economy and society he argues that “… once fully established, bureaucracy is among those social structures which are the hardest to destroy”, further that “the

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individual bureaucrat cannot squirm out of the apparatus into which he has been harnessed” (Weber 1968: 987–988). In other words, bureaucracy extends by forming a sort of net for actions that sustains itself. In the same paragraph, Weber makes the well-known postulate that “under otherwise equal conditions, rationally directed actions is superior to every kind of collective behaviour”. His latter point could be interpreted to mean that bureaucracy is popular because it is a superior form of directing collective action, i.e. that it can simply be selected, whereas his former point relates to the ability of bureaucracy to extend through reproduction. Time-space extension of the context takes place when the conditions are met for its reproduction. If there are no “carriers” for reproduction, events are likely to last only as long as they remain in people’s memories. This is an observation forming the basis for work by Bourdieu as well as Luhmann. Reproduction, however, may be achieved by different means. Physical reproduction takes place through the binding of resources, such as plans and strategies which tie up roles and responsibilities. Social means of reproduction takes place through social interactions such as narratives, myths, stories and rituals. Social interactions serve as means of building social cohesion, sometimes loyalty, but they also serve to stabilize cognitive frameworks. Obviously there are numerous means of reproduction of contexts, and different means of reproduction interact to produce contexts that are of varying time-space extension.

The question of the subject Social science has been, and naturally is, concerned with the place of the subject. In organization studies, Clegg and Hardy (1996: 677) suggest that “the precarious ‘position’ of the subject is a major concern of research.”, and Reed (1996: 51) in the same book argues for a “‘ theory of the subject” which neither falls prey to reductionism nor to determinism. Some works in “third-pole” theories are controversial because of their treatment of the subject, and perhaps particularly their refusal to make the position. This is where we also find most of the divergence between “third-pole” theories. Latour (1987, 1999a) for example, collapses the distinction between actor and object into the term “actant”. “Actant” (borrowed from semiotics) embodies the human (actor) and the non-human (object). Latour refuses the sorting of the human and non-human into two separate categories and argues persuasively from studying the evolution of scientific “facts” that the outcome, i.e. what is (at least temporarily) seen as accepted by the scientific community cannot be understood in isolation from the persons attached to different facts and the interaction between these persons over the facts. In other words, the subject is central in producing new phenomena which again have


consequences for further evolution. On the contrary, in Luhmann’s self-referencing systems the subject is primarily an observer and not a carrier of meaning. Rather than being seen as the bearer of meaning the subject “steps into” the system of meaning processing. In fact, in Luhmann’s framework the individual is seen as environment to the system rather than part of it. In Giddens’s structuration theory the subject is conferred the ability to monitor reflexively actions and their consequences, but is not really seen as capable of changing the context of his actions. What is common among theories mentioned here is to view the subject in relation to recursive reproduction. In this view, the subject is neither reduced to sets of stable characteristics or motives, nor is it object of heuristic voluntarism. The subject may take on different meanings in “third-pole” theories. Established schools in social science are embedded in assumptions about the nature of the subject, something which lies at the base of much disagreement between positions. A point of contention is the extent to which the subject can be assumed to influence the structure within which he is embedded, where assumptions range from the subject as being entrapped into social structures to the subject being free to change the structure. Sociological debate, taking “society” as the singularly most important context, naturally leans towards the view that the context is overriding. Society is commonly understood as an institution, and institution, in Giddens’s (1984: 17) sense, constitute practices of great time-space extension. Consequently, the more institutions bite into time and space, the more resistant they are to influence by any actor (Giddens 1984: 171). Thus the role of the subject is more or less relegated to reproducing the structures in which he or she is embedded. This is central to Giddens’s work and has been applied in the study of organization, notably by Manning (1982), although Giddens emphasizes, as mentioned above, that societal structures are not just constraining in the Durkheimian sense, but that they are also enabling of individual actions. Language, for example, is a definite constraining structure in that nothing can be expressed which lies outside the vocabulary of the language. On the other hand, once it is learned, it enables a whole range of activities, even its own transformation, as new words and new meanings are added to existing ones. In a similar vein, relating to the use of language, Whitehead ([1978]1929) points out that once we have started a sentence, we have to complete it to make sense, although the sense we ultimately make is not what we really wanted to say. Giddens’s sense of what the individual is enabled to do, however, is to act, and not to change the context he or she is in. Now, if we return to the world of organization, we no longer speak of “society” as context, but a range of contexts with widely varying time-space extension. Some of these exist independently of most subjects, such as the corporation. Others cannot but be influenced by subjects, such as smaller groups, teams or projects. If I take the example of the management school where I work, it includes at least four

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different contexts. At the overall level, the school, policies are set and major decisions related to those policies are made. In addition come functions of personnel, finance, communication and facilities. I only have marginal influence on the overall school context, unless I become dean of the school or I get elected to the school’s governing body. One step down from the school level is the department structure. Departments, although they are divided by research foci, serve much as administrative contexts for our work, as much of the hiring, firing and evaluation are done at department level. Located within the departments but transgressing departmental boundaries are contexts such as centres and projects. These are contexts of much smaller time-space extension than departments. Inside these more restrained contexts, not only are interactions heavily influenced but the context, but individuals influence the context in turn. Thus, the influence works both ways, conferring upon individuals to a greater extent the roles of actors in the sense that they take part in shaping the context than what could be said about the school or the department level. My point is that whereas at the organizational level (in this case the school) an individual has trouble making his or her mark, if we move to the level of a small group, such as a project team, an individual cannot but make his or her mark, even if he or she chooses to exit. Hence a theory based on the individual as actor in any context will be as faulty as one that sees the individual as being merely an object of the context. Organization theory does not seem to have paid a lot of attention to the different roles that the subject may play in the shaping of contexts. To be sure, there has been an almost endless debate as to whether, for example, managers can change contexts of action and interaction. Here optimists, among them management scholars, claim that managers can effect fundamental changes with the right insights, priorities and personal qualities. Sceptics, on the other hand, claim that change is very difficult and in many cases doomed to failure. There is a general tendency, however, to overemphasize the individual; moreover, it assumes that the individual (such as the manager) is someone who is detached from the overall system that he or she wants to change. Such literature tends to be ahistorical and sometimes even acontextual. If we take as a starting point that the subject should be accorded different statuses in different contexts, it remains to determine how the distinction is made. It is possible to see the subject as taking on three distinctly different roles; those of creator, actor or spectator. As creator the subject takes part in constructing the context. He or she becomes part of its history and is embedded in the relations that emanate from the creation of the context. In economic analysis the entrepreneur is a typical creator of contexts. Entrepreneurs not only develop social and economic activity from a project, but they also tend to influence the patterns of acting and thinking in the organizations they create. In management studies Peters and


Waterman (1982) insist on the importance of skunkworks and championing. Champions, to Peters and Waterman, are people who pioneer new developments in successful companies. Such developments may eventually turn into new product lines or entirely new organizations. As actor the subject is seen as an agent who essentially reproduces the context, similar to the way that Giddens sees the role of the actor. As spectator the subject is outside the core of the context. He or she does not reproduce the context by acting inside it, but this does not mean that the person is without interest for the analysis of the context. Spectators are important. How else could we explain why football teams do better at home matches than away matches? The players are the same, the same goes for the tactics, the formation and the coach. A main aim of undertaking a three-pronged distinction such as this is to open up an alternative way of conceptualizing the relationship between subject and context. I venture the argument that organization theory has too often concerned itself with the question of how, and how much, the individual is involved in the organization. Numerous studies try to measure in some way or other the type or degree of involvement, or “commitment”, as motivation theorists commonly call it. The analysis tends to become binary in nature; either the individual is “in” or “out”. Either the individual works towards the formal goals or he/she subverts them. Such binary thinking relates, of course, to the view of the organization as a bounded system, which means that if you are outside it, you do not influence what is going on, unless “you” are a legitimating authority, as is the assumption in new institutionalist theory. An example of how the view of organization as a bounded unit obstructs a broader view of involvement can be found in Weick’s book on sensemaking. Weick is sensitive to the fact that people may be influenced in their sensemaking by others who may not necessarily be physically present. He cites Allport’s (1985: 3) description of social psychology as “an attempt to understand and explain how the thought, feeling, and behaviour of individuals are influenced by the actual, imagined, or implied presence of others (italics added by Weick) (Weick 1995: 39). So far so good. Weick then returns back from social psychology to organization theory and suggests that Burns and Stalker (1961: 118) say essentially the same thing when they argue that people in organizations make decisions with the knowledge that they will have to be implemented, understood or approved by others. I take issue with Weick here because Burns and Stalker are basically concerned with the reactions of others, and they imply that the reactions are hierarchically ordered. They imply that inside the organization, i.e. inside the organization as a bounded entity, there are principally superiors and colleagues who matter. The view fails to take into account the “virtual” presence of those who are not members of the organization or who are partially members. “Others” may

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not be members of the organization, but members of the same profession as the one making a decision. When, for example, a surgeon decides to favour one type of intervention over another, he or she may consider the consequences of the one or the other option inside the hospital, he or she may be equally likely to act in anticipation of reactions from peers within the person’s profession.

Summing up Following on from the discussion of selected contemporary projects in European sociology in Chapter 2, we have focused explicitly on organization viewed as context. The idea of context is entertained in sociological theory, and forms an intermediate stage towards the explication of organization as space. On the basis of the “third-pole” theories discussed in Chapter 2, four basic questions have defined, relating to the time-space aspects of contexts. These are the question of emergence, the question of reproduction, the question of history and time and the question of the subject.

Chapter 4

From context to space The present epoch will perhaps be above all the epoch of space. We are in the epoch of simultaneity: we are in the epoch of juxtaposition, the epoch of the near and far, the side-by-side, of the dispersed. (Foucault, 1967) “Space is the expression of society” (Castells, 1996: 410)

The term “context” serves primarily to understand how factors influence human actions and interactions. As a term for understanding the dynamics of organization, however, it is beset with limitations. In its place, the term “space” offers a more expansive view of organization. “Space” is a term that is widely used in social science, although the use is in many cases casual. A three-pronged distinction between physical, social and mental space allows us to express basic aspects of organization.

Two limitations of “context” So far we have used the term “context” because it has been a convenient way of articulating ways of finding openings between the levels of form and actions. It has hopefully served the purpose of indicating that there is room for developing further organization theory that operates from ideas such as extension, reproduction, emergence and historicity. Apart from drawing upon examples such as budgeting and a few others, I have been vague about ways in which contexts may be conceptualized in a more systematic fashion. The term “context”, however, is beset with at least two major limitations in relation to organization theory. First, the limitation of inwardness; this implies an almost exclusive focus on inward mechanisms, a sort of inside-in view of organization, whereas a satisfactory analysis of organization needs to be able to account for both external and internal factors. An inside-in view works fine for analyses aiming to study how certain characteristics of contexts may influence actions and interactions inside the context, of which a classic example would be Goffman’s (1961) work on “total” institutions or Foucault’s (1995) work on seventeeth-century

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manufactories. Both the work of Goffman and Foucault constitute painstaking analyses of how institutional factors affect inmates. Their work has again demonstrated how deeper understanding may be arrived at of mechanisms of power in organizations. However, their work relates primarily to how institutions form people, and they are less concerned with how people form institutions. In Goffman’s case, he demonstrates how roles, identities, behaviour and rituals become formed by the institutional setting. For example, he describes how inmates come to be stripped of their civil society identities as they enter the institution, such as by dressing them up in the clothes of the institution. Thus, from being members of the outside society with their own identity expressed through their own clothes, they take on the identity of simply being near-indistinguishable inmates. In Goffman’s analysis, the outside of the institutions does not enter into the analysis. In the case of Foucault the institution’s outside does play a role in the analysis, such as his analysis of the historical antecedents of the prison as a penal institution. Still, the forming of the institution is understood through the lens of the human body. Foucault shows how, over a relatively short span of time in the seventeenth century, there was a change from theatrical public punishments towards the idea of detention. From inflicting various sorts of physical pain upon the criminals depending on the nature of their crime, a system was developed whereby every punishment took the form of detention, and where the punishment was calculated in the form of duration against a uniform background, the “machinery of the prisons” (Foucault 1995: 116). Although this shows how an institution such as the prison evolved from practices in the society, the formation of the institution is mere background, whereas the thrust of Foucault’s analysis still passes through the subjective experience of criminals. His major preoccupation is to show how institutional transformations are results of “body politics” and, on the side of the criminal, how his body serves as a self-inflicting mechanism of punishment. Institutional mechanisms of power, according to Foucault, become inscribed in the body of the inmate himself. As Harvey (1990: 213) puts it, Foucault treats the “[the space of] the body as the irreducible element in our social scheme of things, for it is upon the space that the forces of repression, socialization, disciplining, and punishing, are inflicted”. For example, in the case of the panopticon, which by its architectural design (circular with a tower in the middle) allows a direct view of all the cells in the circular structure, Foucault notes that: The efficiency of power, its constraining force have, in a sense, passed over to the other side — to the side of its surface of application. He who is subjected to a field of visibility, and who knows it, assumes responsibility for the constraints of power, he makes them play spontaneously upon himself; he inscribes in himself the power relation in which he simultaneously plays both roles; he becomes the principle of his own subjection. (Foucault, 1995: 202–203)

From context to space

In the study of organization, the inside-in perspective offered by contexts is profound and allows for great depth of analysis, as the brief example hopefully suggests. However, a great deal of the institutional arrangements in society are not as deeply embedded in immutable practices as analyses such as these are focused upon. By far the majority of institutions are less confined and interact more with society at large. This means that their “outside-out” interactions become related to their “inside-in” interactions in the sense that institutional identities work both inwards and outwards. For example, cases of institutional reform suggest that actions taken by leaders who engage in reform may be directed inwards into the institutions, but may at the same time be rooted in concerns for external legitimacy (Brunsson and Olsen, 1990). This suggests that outsiders play a role in the formation of contexts, such as when the subject is seen as a spectator, as I have suggested above. An illustrative example is provided by Rafaeli and Vilnai-Yavetz (2003) in their study of an Israeli bus company and its choice of colour of the company’s buses. The company in question decided to paint all its buses green. This seemingly trivial measure triggered a host of reactions from a number of groups, including employees, pedestrians, bus travellers, competitors, road engineers, environmentalists and other drivers. It is worth noting that most of these groups are external to the company, and some seem marginal indeed (such as the environmentalist group). One of the conclusions of their study is that studying an organization through the lens of artefacts shows up the amorphousness of organizational boundaries, especially who can be said to be members and who are not. Hence their observation that organizations are as much an external phenomenon as an internal one. Their study shows, for example, that management decided on the new colour from the context they were in (what Rafaeli and Vilnai-Yavetz refer to as the insideout view), and that they did not realize the importance of the external effects; the “outside-in “ view (Rafaeli and Vilnai-Yavetz 2003: 207). A second limitation of the term “context” is that of apparent immutability. The term “context” is beset with the limitation of being treated as an immutable given rather than an entity of emergence and transformation. Although Giddens (1984) suggests that contexts form the basis for how information flows are influenced by actors, this is not sufficient to show how organization is created and re-created. By considering information flows as does Giddens, it does correspond to views such as Simon’s (1976) analysis of decision-making, where decision-makers are seen as being exclusively embedded in an internal organizational context, where impulses are provided through a semi-stable internal infrastructure. In Simon’s work, however, the organization is primarily created by leaders who, by design, provide rules and channels of information to people further down in the organization. It falls outside Simon’s focus to explore how organizational arrangements come into being and become transformed. Instead, as he argues with March (March and

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Simon, 1958), the context is a given which the individual chooses whether to join or not, partly or fully. However, the question remains how contexts come into being and how they are transformed. We now join the arguments of the above paragraph in that in order to understand the formation of contexts, their outside need to be included in the analysis. The question of time enters, as antecedents need to be studied. Before a context is created, there are other contexts that are external to it. If we re-enter the world of organization, contexts, such as project teams, are normally established by higher management level (another context) and, before the project team begins to operate, it exists in the minds of people who are external to them. Once the context begins to operate, the team is both an inside-in context and one that acts externally to itself. During this process, symbolic and instrumental factors come into play and begin to interact across the boundaries of the context.

Introducing “space” If there is a term in social science which offers a more expansive view of organization than “context”, it is the idea of “space”. In their book entitled “The social psychology of organising”, Katz and Kahn (1978) devoted a section specifically to organization as space. Their argument for paying attention to the space construct in the study of organization is that it accommodates study of spheres of organizational life that are not commonly studied. They argue, for example, that while the Hawthorne studies were immensely influential and important, their focus was on a limited segment of the social world in an organization. According to Katz and Kahn, space, incorporating physical as well as social factors, offers a concept that allows us to see the organization in a number of different ways (p. 62). Katz and Kahn’s work is carried out against a background of systems theory and consistently modelled on biological analogy. Thus, it is premised on the view of organization as a reactive system working on an input-output basis. The view is distinctly different from the evolutionary view offered in this book. Unfortunately, Katz and Kahn do not pursue an open definition of space, but choose to locate organizational processes with constructs such as power, communication, structure and roles. Still, their point is worth taking, as it signals that the term “space” offers broader understanding of phenomena of organization. An increasing number of works on organization draw upon the notion of space. The increasing attention to space has no doubt been accelerated by the changing work-home patterns (Nippert-Eng, 1996) that have emerged under the past decades or so. The essential change consists of being able to work away from one’s physical location, whether while travelling, working from home or collaborat-


ing at a distance. The latter refers to, for example, collaborative work whereby engineers and scientists may work on a shared assignment spaced thousands of kilometres apart while communicating via the internet. All three situations imply a virtual versus a physical presence which was largely absent in the workplace until about a decade ago. It is the virtual versus physical presence that seems to spur interest in the concept of space because it brings up the question of the locus of social activity. Whereas the traditional factory or public administration provided reasonably congruent boundaries of the physical and the social workspace, the relationship between the two is now in need of reconceptualization. Where “is” work and the organization when they exist in the minds of people, either in their private life or on their way to work? Nippert-Eng (1996), who provides a substantial study of one of these situations, namely the home–work combination, suggests that there is a home–work continuum along which we may conceptualize different degrees of integration versus segmentation of spaces, which Nippert-Eng refers to as the public versus private spaces. Because home and work are mere spheres that can be made to interact in different ways (the variability of segmentation versus integration), they cannot be reduced to “just” places of activity. In the absence of being able to reduce work to places, the idea of space serves as a way of explicating the interaction between spheres in which workers find themselves. Increased interest in the idea of space is also spurred by extension of electronic communication. Interestingly, and at first sight paradoxically, works on electronically mediated communities and networks seem to refer frequently to the notion of space, in particular, social space (e.g. Crabtree et al. 2000). This appears paradoxical in the sense that in organizations perhaps the aspect that least corresponds to the idea of space is that of electronic communication. In fact, it seems that some students of electronic media are themselves surprised that the reality they create can be represented spatially. On an internet site (www.newschool.edu/ mediastudies/sam/) I read recently that “Cyberspace is the result of what once seemed an impossibility: the creation of a space in the electronic frame”. Networks are largely linear and processual and not spatial in the way that organizational settings are normally represented. Organization as it has been conceptualized by theorists and represented by those who inhabit them has traditionally been seen as essentially spatial, something that we will develop in chapters to come. Early works include studies of workspace (Becker, 1981) and physical setting (Steele, 1973). Hatch (1987), for example, shows how barriers in an office space influences upon human interaction. Later works have focused on symbolic effects such as artefacts and architecture (e.g. Gagliardi, 1992). It can easily be argued that a host of other phenomena, including culture, cognition and structure readily lend themselves to spatial representation. In spite of this, an explicit spatial focus on common themes in organization theory

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is rarely developed. Electronic communication media, however, are not readily associated with space; they are still analysed in relation to social space. One could turn the argument around and postulate that it is because such studies deal with non-spatial and non-social entities that they are sensitive to the importance of social space. At last, there is a critical or postmodernist dimension of organization studies that pays increasing attention to subjective experience and which opens up alternative ways of visualizing contexts for action and interaction. Postmodernism is itself a field of differences and contradiction, but whether it focuses on the constructed and fragmented nature of people and reality (Alvesson and Deetz, 1996) or it focuses on the struggle against the grand narratives (Lyotard, 1984), the subjective experience of the subject remains a central point of departure. I have already referred to Foucault above, whose study of penal institutions is done through the framework of bodily experience. There is a definite break here with classical organization theory in that the setting is not defined by overarching definitions of what the organizational setting constitutes. It may be neither the department nor the goals as defined by organization leaders. On the contrary, the definition is given to the subject. This in turn opens up analysis where the setting is not organized into differentiated mechanisms as defined from the top of the organization, but through a de-differentiation of aesthetic and intellectual experience (Clegg, 1990: 14). Culture, for example, may be studied as an integrated set of norms or values, but it may also be studied as differentiated or fragmented states (Martin, 2002). Factors such as these combine to explain why the study of artefacts and space have emerged in recent years as a popular trend (Gagliardi, 1996). These, and probably a number of other trends in organization studies account for an increased interest in space. There is as yet, however, little in the way of systematic and broadly based development of the concept of space that ties in with the study of organization. One might say that organization theory, having treated space, at least implicitly, over many decades, has largely viewed space as that inside which things happen. However, less conceptual work has been done on how spaces emerge and evolve. In sociology Lefebvre (1990: 89) makes precisely this point; that an approach is called for today which considers not things in space but space itself. We will return to Lefebvre’s treatment of space below.

Preliminaries on space A friend commented once, having read a paper I had prepared on space, that the ideas in the paper seemed interesting, but that he could not grasp the notion of space as I applied it. “I can’t see it”, he said. “I see that there is something there, but


it is too hard to make the connection to organization”. I had assumed that I could use space in the abstract form, and that from this abstract mould images of organization to explain selected phenomena. This seems to be too casual a way to deal with the issue of space and organization, and some specification of meanings of space is called for. Meanings of space range from the concrete to the abstract and from the relative to the absolute, as Lefebvre shows us. This is not a book on the philosophy of space, on which there is a long tradition, but it is an attempt at fitting the idea of space to organization. Hence, the aim is not to present an exhaustive account of a theory of space. Nevertheless, some basic points of reference that underpin the ideas in the book are called for. The basic tenet of a spatial view of organization is that just about everything that needs representation may be represented spatially. This applies to various forms of structure. Structure, in the form of rules, for example, may be seen in two different ways. One way is to perceive rules as prescriptions that are or are not followed. When studying, for example, organizational culture, we would, when considering rules this way, concern ourselves with occasions where rules of social conduct are broken versus when they are transgressed. A second way is to regard rules as outer limits, what Harshbarger (1973) refers to as “secondary rules” at “organizational tolerance limits”. Such a study would relate to how outer limits influence action and interaction in organizations. It would also invite study of how outer limits come into being and how they are transformed. It is the coming to grips with how outer limits emerge and evolve that forms the basis for a spatial view of organization. Spatial representation applies not only to structure, but to a variety of phenomena, including that of process. Process is typically defined as the temporal succession of events (Luhmann, 1995). Process seen in this way relates to temporal programming in organizations. Although programming is a largely linear process over time, it can also be construed spatially, since a programme represents also a space for actions described in terms of time, aims and human and financial resources. The argument finds support with March and Simon (1958: 189), who point out that every new stage in programme development represents “a new boundary” that any new proposed innovation must penetrate. Hence, programmes may be temporal insofar as they project activities onto time, but they are in themselves circumscribed by limits, i.e. they are spatial. Another view of process is what Weick (1979) defines as the mutual interlocking of behaviour and actions. Weick, although insisting that sensemaking is about flows, concedes that sensemaking takes place spatially. He says, for example, on the one hand that ”Sensemaking is about a continually changing past, and variations in choice, irrevocably, and visibility that change the intensity of behavioural commitments”, but he suggests on the other hand that sensemaking is subject to

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boundary conditions within which “explanations hold and outside of which they do not hold” (Weick 1995: 176). Within these boundary conditions a “mental space” exists which provides some stability to actions and interactions. The space is, of course, not immutable, but it is modified through action. Hence, although a processual view of organization seems intuitively opposed to a spatial view, there is not necessarily an opposition between the two. Organization thus may be represented spatially in virtually all its manifestations. The argument could be taken beyond the realm of organization. Together with time, space is a fundamental category of human existence. Harvey points out that the written word itself abstracts properties from the flux of experience and fixes them in spatial form: The invention of printing embedded the word in space, it has been said, and writing — a set of tiny marks marching in neat line, like armies of insects, across pages and pages of white paper — is therefore, a definite spatialization (quoted in McHale 1987: 179–181). Any system of representation, in fact, is a spatialization of sorts which freezes the movement and, in so doing, distorts what it strives to represent. ”Writing”, says Bourdieu (1977: 156), ”tears practice and discourse out of the flow of time.” For this reason, Bergson, the great theorist of becoming, of time as flux, was incensed that it took the spatialization of the clock to tell the time. (Harvey, 1990: 201)

What we may infer from this passage from Harvey is not only the pervasiveness of spatial representation in social life, but also how spatialization upsets life, as when it freezes the flow of time. This is the other side of the coin; spatialization may be essential for human existence, but it is also consequential in that once it has occurred, life will not be the same as it was before. When, for example, space is created for a task force that champions a new model of management, resources are allocated, beliefs about what it can or cannot achieve are propagated, it produces events that change to a lesser or greater extent the ensuing life in the organization. Whether it fails of succeeds, it is bound to leave traces upon future processes, not least as a memory that is called upon when future decisions are made. But it does not just exist as a memory. It may, for example, produce an identifiable space of activity of a certain kind that persists as an ongoing, reproducing reality. What becomes the main challenge to the researcher who works from a spatialized view of organization, is to pose a certain number of questions pertaining to space. A main question is evidently what spaces matter, as the number is potentially infinite and any selection might seems about as viable as any other. Another question of considerable importance is how a space matters. A third question relates to the dynamics of the space; how and when does it appear, and how does it evolve? Another point in the above passage from Harvey suggests that spatialization distorts. Action and interaction takes place in space, but it does not follow that they


are determined by the space. On the contrary, processes that take place in space transgress the space that enabled them in the first place, and partly for this reason space cannot be assumed to be constructed with predictable outcomes. Harvey formulates this with eloquence: This does not mean that practices are determined by built form (no matter how hard the planners may try); for they have the awkward habit of escaping their moorings in any fixed schema of representation. (Harvey, 1990: 204)

The reason is simple, and connects to the point above that space will inevitably, once created, form a new basis for interpretation and action that could not be anticipated at the outset, even if it could be controlled. The implication is that space cannot be considered absolute, but a mere product of processes within which seeds are sown for processes that create new spaces. The point finds some support in the philosopher Alfred North Whitehead’s ([1978]1929) notion of potentiality versus actuality. On the one hand, space functions as an actuality in the sense that it can be perceived. On the other hand, it works as a potentiality in the sense that it leads to new actuality. Its potentiality lies in its being, which forms a basis for its becoming. This helps us realize that space is both process and product.

Outline of theory of space “Space” is commonly used as a designation of empty space. As empty space it may accommodate all uses. It can therefore be used to designate that which is spatial, that which is beyond. Maybe a case in point is that the only “real” use of space lies in what we term the “outer space”; that infinite void encompassing the galaxies. In social science, space is commonly used as a term of convenience for the void that lies there to be filled. In a way this use of the term brings up a certain “potentiality” of language, to borrow from Whitehead, in that it leaves propositions open to the eventuality of a space that lies there yet to be discovered. An example is found in the reference made above to social space in connection with technology mediated communities, the social space is not specific, but it denotes a “missing” space that we assume should be enacted around the technology, simply because the technology is a medium of inter-human interaction. We could use this in a number of different contexts to denote the possibilities that arise for new interactions and ideas. For example, when companies merge, it signifies the interaction between two sets of spaces. The actual merging opens up new possibilities simply because new combinations arise through unprecedented encounters of people and ideas. These new opportunities take place in a new space, which we might call a space of opportunities. This use of the term “space” is what we may call casual, in

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the sense that it is used to apply to whatever unused and unoccupied space is thought to arise. It is reflected in Foucault’s use of the term, who draws upon space to explain a wide variety of phenomena. Foucault for one admitted that he was obsessed with the space metaphor (Harvey 1990: 205). Although his use of “space” may border on the casual, what was designated as the object of space was of course far from casual, as it was used to demonstrate how the domination of space constitute the exercise of power in social life. Still, although leaving “space” purposely vague as in “empty”, or “beyond” may have its merits, there is ample room for more systematic analysis. Henri Lefebvre, in his book The production of space (1991), offers a profound discussion of the nature of space. Lefebvre’s point of departure is that space deserves theorizing as an entity in itself A comparable approach is called for today, an approach which would analyse not things in space but space itself, with a view to uncovering the social relationships embedded in it. The dominant tendency fragments space and cuts it up into pieces. It enumerates the things, the various objects, that space contains. (Lefebvre, 1991: 88)

Lefebvre (1991) thus argues for a science of space and inscribes space into subject areas as diverse as philosophy, architecture and work. His analysis is complex, in that whereas space is used as a background against which society is analysed, it is also allowed to take on varying epistemological characteristics, such as the notions of absolute versus abstract space. A remarkable aspect of his analysis is the way he shows how a flexible use of space may be used to explain evolutions in society. (Yet, although his use is flexible, it is still explicit: Lefebvre criticizes Foucault for never explaining what space he is referring to.) A key point of Lefebvre’s is that space is continually produced, while also forming the basis for construction. He suggests that “itself the outcome of past actions, social space is what permits fresh actions to occur, while suggesting others and prohibiting yet others.” (Lefebvre 1991: 74). We can recognize here the idea of circularity with Latour and recursivity with Luhmann and Giddens. This shows that space is subject not only to production but also to reproduction. It also suggests that the construction (production) of space is consequential. Spatial development is no trivial affair because it creates tensions and imbalances that were not there before the space was created: Any determinate and hence demarcated space necessarily embraces some things and excludes others; what it rejects may be relegated to nostalgia or it may be simply forbidden. Such a space asserts, negates and denies. (Lefebvre, 1991: 99)

The idea of reproduction forces the question of “being” versus “becoming” of space. It also forces the distinction between the practical and the symbolic to be


bridged. The illustration used by Lefebvre to shed some light on the interrelationship between terms is that of the city of Venice. What is a city? asks Lefebvre (1991: 73). Is this city a work or a product? Venice is a city that can very well be represented as a space. Moreover, it is a space that conveys architectural and monumental unity reflected in its development from the sixteenth century onwards. It is a space that has been laboured, decorated and sustained through continuing interactions. Moreover, the present Venice carries in it the work done over centuries. The efforts combine to put the city in touch with “its ideality, embracing the practical, the symbolic and the imaginary.” (Lefebvre 1991: 75). The point offers a perspective on time versus space which corresponds to the idea of historicity that I have suggested above. Just as the city of Venice cannot possibly be understood disconnected from its past that resides in all its practical and symbolic aspects, when we create a space in organizations, we create a historicity which will constitute what the space “is” at different points in time. Lefebvre’s discussion of space enables in particular two separate three-pronged distinctions to be made, which facilitate our understanding of space, not just in relation to social theory at large, but also to organization. First, he distinguishes between three ways of understanding space, three different epistemologies of space. The distinction is drawn between space as a real entity, representational space and representations of space. The first category, real space, is also referred to as spatial practice (Lefebvre 1991: 16–18). This is space in its specific form, the spacing that is used for production by ordering locations, thereby ensuring some degree of continuity and cohesion. In the case of organization, this is constructed by the type of differentiation and integration devices found with formal structure, as discussed by Lawrence and Lorsch (1967). The second category is that of the representational space, also referred to lived spaces, i.e. the way that we order space through signs and codes. The signs and codes in this case are taken in a broad sense, encompassing everyday common-sense language as well as jargon dealing with spatial practices, such as engineering, architecture, geography, planning, social ecology etc. (Harvey 1990: 218). In the case of organization, the organization map, with the boxes indicating roles and responsibilities, is an example of representation of space, and so are symbolic markers, such as uniforms, titles and the like. The third category is representations of space, which are the imaginary spaces as we conceptualize them with non-verbal symbols and signs. If I take the liberty to translate somewhat freely from Lefebvre’s treatise, I would see spaces of representation as the more “casual” use of space referred to above; that space which is simply “beyond”. The threefold distinction briefly described here is useful as a classifier of main uses of space, although it does not describe what different space actually entail. That is left to the second distinction. The second three-pronged distinction offered by Lefebvre is the distinction

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between three forms of space: mental, social and physical. Mental space accommodates the sphere of theory and meaning, and is in Lefebvre’s perspective the space of philosophers and epistemologists. Social space consists of social relations, and is what enables production as well as reproduction. Physical space is essentially material, and extends from habitation to urban space (towns, cities) and territories. In the following chapters I will try to show how this latter three-pronged distinction can be put to use in explaining developments in organization theory over the past century or so. Applied to organization studies it illustrates how mental, social and physical space may be associated with specific transitions in the evolution of organization theory. Lefebvre particularly stresses the point that we need to understand how different types of space — physical, social and mental — relate to one another. The argumentation is intricate, and Lefebvre’s treatment of the subject moving between different realms of science and philosophy, as well as between theory and practice, does not really make it more accessible. The discussion will show that this is a challenge that organization studies should take up, as organizational realities do not, alas, follow the neat distinctions laid down for analytical purposes by social scientists.

Three categories of space as a basis for organization The latter of Lefebvre’s three-pronged distinction finds resonance with works of more direct relevance to organization studies. Parsons (1951: 4) referred to basically three classes of objects in social systems, which are social, cultural and physical. What Parsons refers to as cultural corresponds in part to mental space. He also drew the distinction between three types of institutions: relational, regulative and cultural. It is worth noting, however, that the notion of culture that he employs is a mixed bag of both relational and cognitive elements. Giddens’s (1984) structural dimensions of signification, domination and legitimation also correspond to some degree to the above distinction. With Giddens, signification has obvious connotations of meaning and cognition. Domination relates to power and connects to regulation, for example through rules or resources. The third element in Giddens, legitimation, relates to the system of social approval. Finally, Scott (1995) works from the idea that institutions are upheld by three “pillars”: regulative, normative and cognitive structures. The regulative pillar may be likened to physical space, the normative pillar to social space and the cognitive pillar to mental space. Admittedly, drawing such parallels is delicate. There can be no absolute correlation between such constructs. Nevertheless, the fact that there is approximate correlation is sufficient for carrying on with the three-pronged distinction between mental, physical and social space inspired by Lefebvre.


A critical point is how the different notions of space can be brought down to the world of organization. Whereas the following chapters will discuss the use of space in organization in more detail, it is useful at this stage to suggest elements of spaces and the kinds of media through which they evolve. Table 2 below shows schematically how distinctions can be drawn between the three different types of space. Physical space refers to tangible structures created principally in order to regulate work and interaction. There are evidently many examples of such structures in organizations, including budgets, electronic domains, buildings, work schedules, etc. Physical space is created with a purpose, but evolves and reproduces itself in ways that may elude those who created it. It may also exert effects on actions and interactions in the organization that are unforeseen. This is a central point in Giddens’s theory; actors are seen as being knowledgeable about their actions and the evolution of the structure, but they may ignore the consequences of their actions. Budgets, for example, are established with a timeframe of, say, one or two years. Within this timeframe those who developed the budget may in most cases predict fairly well the first order effects of the budget, such as for example what can be reasonably seen as an output within the limits of the budget. During the budget period, however, the very presence of the budget has a conditioning influence which again creates what we might call “second order” effects. For instance, those working within the budget limits may align their outputs according to the budget and for the next budget round they will try to keep the tasks foreseen by the original budget while consolidating these, even increasing them. These are second order effects that are not easily foreseeable in the original budget preparation. Social space evolves from interactions that form relations of a more predictable nature. It is a “glue” that is relations-based. Examples may include trust, social identity love, dependence, loyalty and behavioural norms. A social space exhibits an identity, and within this identity there are specificities of relations that uphold it. It is important to stress the “uphold” aspect, because a social space is one that reproduces itself. If it does not, it is not defined as a social space. For example, if trust is an example defining a particular social space, it is valid only to the extent that various rituals and/or artefacts serve to remind those forming part of the social space that it is upheld. A social space defines membership, but the membership is not a uniform mass whereby one is either member or not. Social space is a network of relations where norms of behaviour regulate much of what is going on. Obviously, the norms are not the same for everyone. Whatever these norms are, members learn to live by these norms and not overtly transgress the boundaries they describe. The adherence is done through overt behaviour, where members learn to act in conformity to the roles appropriate to the norms of the particular organization. The connection between adherence to a group and adhering to norms of

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Table 2.A three-pronged notion of space in relation to organization Physical space

Social space

Mental space

Examples

Budgets, electronic Trust, identity, loyalty, Knowledge, meaning, domains, physical love, dependence, strategies, sensebarriers, work sched- norms of behaviour making, learning, ules, rules

Basic element

Tangible structures

Social relations

Thought

Medium

Regulation

Human presence

Cues

Boundary defined by

The allowable

The permissible

The thinkable

behaviour comes out in the work on “the civilizing process” by Elias (1994). The civilizing process in Elias’s work is much about the convergence of social forces in groups that serve to stabilize internal conditions while protecting the group outwards. What is being “civilized” is members’ behaviour, or “etiquette”. Contrary from being some side effect of a social order, etiquette is intertwined with it. The “etiquette” corresponds to the expected behaviour that people perform because it is pertinent to their roles. Hence a medium of social space is human presence. This need not be physical and it may just as well be virtual, imagined or contingent. I can feel that I am member of a group without being physically present in the group much of the time. For example, I may be a member of a profession, while being the only one of that profession in the company. Although I work in the physical presence of colleagues in the company, it does not mean that I may not act out of allegiance to my profession. Mental space is basically the space of thought. It consists of, for example, knowledge, learning and sensemaking. As will be pointed out later, it is not assumed that mental space exists at the level of individuals. It is upheld by individuals as well as non-human media, but it is not necessarily assumed to be embedded entirely with individuals. A schematic presentation such as this immediately opens up a number of questions. Can, for example, spaces be characterized by additional imageries? We could ask, for example, if some spaces can be said to be more dense than others. Some bureaucratic arrangements are more stringent than others. For example, the sets of rules that bank employees operate within are normally more stringent than, say those of teachers. On the other hand, it is possible to see that a group of teachers from the same school may constitute a more intense social space than a group of staff from a bank. The findings of Rothschild-Whitt referred to above would probably bear out this point. Differences in the intensity of a space facilitate expressions such as those used by Kreiner and Schultz (1995), who refer to “soft


cultures”. Soft cultures, according to Kreiner and Schultz, do not correspond to common definitions of culture as convergence on one set of meaning, values or behaviour. Instead, they argue, soft cultures may exist in loosely coupled communities, extending beyond and between organizations, and consist of discrete sets of symbols that legitimize certain behaviours and actions. Persons in soft cultures may be located away from each other in time and space. Another aspect of space could be that of extension. A space may be localized, say in a group. Orr (1990), for example, studied localized practices among photocopier technicians at the Xerox corporation, among whom he observed how they developed shared knowledge through the technology of the machines. The knowledge that evolved among them would be a good example of a mental space, with its own terminologies and meanings. The distinction between physical, mental and social space is basically ontological. Lefebvre’s discussion also includes a recurrent reference of a more epistemological nature. The epistemological dimension concerns how we position ourselves in relation to the term “space”. Do we, for example, consider ourselves to exist in space, or do we consider ourselves to live by the way that we represent space. Lefebvre considers this epistemological dimension in three categories. – Spatial practice denotes perceived spaces. Our everyday actions are embedded in spaces that we perceive as such. Spatial practices constitute continuity; and they are produced and reproduced, and their dominant mode of reproduction is through social interaction. They also ensure some degree of cohesion. Bourdieu (1977), for example, shows how practices among the Kayla villagers are spatially defined. The public space of the village, for example, belongs at certain hours neither to men nor to women: “No one can say whether the public space of the village belongs to man or to woman. So each of them takes care not to occupy it: there is something suspicious about anyone who ventures into the streets at that hour.” (Bourdieu 1977: 161) Organizational reality is a spatial practice that reproduces itself through many different means. Perhaps two practices that are most commonly perceived as such are meetings and decisions. Meetings, for one, are spatial practices that reproduce themselves through social interaction. It is important to make a distinction; not only does social interaction reproduce social interaction, but the social interaction in the space of the meeting also reproduces the meeting as a form of space for interaction. – Representations of space denote the conceived spaces. They are tied to the imageries that are created by people in power, the producers of space. Lefebvre refers to architects, who design representations of space through their plans and drawings. In organization, representations of space are created by leaders. They may consist, for example, of ideologies, structures and rules principally used to map the ordering of processes. The organization chart is an appropriate example of a representation of space. Incidentally, to view it as a representation of space,

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and not the space itself, allows us to perceive it differently from the split between formal and informal organization. As a map rather than a reality, the organization chart becomes rightfully attributed the status of representation rather than reality. Harste, in referring to Colbert also brings up mapping, but in the context of spatial representation of the regulatory structures of early state formation in France: The intendants traveled through the regions, with a few staff, a carthograph, a tax-officer, a sub-delegate and a few secretaries. Indeed the first task to be instructed about was to produce maps on which the ‘four governments of clerical, military, judicial and financial affairs should be done, clear, in general and in details and subdivision’. (Harste, (2003: 91). In Luhmann’s state theory mapping is as important as classification and registration is to Foucault and Bourdieu: Sometimes one has the impression that the concept of state is a biproduct of the printing press that makes it possible to diffuse maps in such ways that it is possible to observe an area on those maps. (Luhmann 1989b: 109). – Representational space denotes the lived spaces that evolve from our historical past. They consist of subtle non-verbal signs and codes through which we make sense of what goes on around us (this is why we live these spaces rather than just perceive them). Representational spaces are tacit and taken for granted. In Western civilization, Euclidean geometry could be seen as a representational space. For example, when we perceive the notion of space, we intuitively want to give it a form, contents, a surface and a boundary.

Lefebvre’s distinction between spatial practice, spatial representation and representational space is by no means a tidy one. It is certainly difficult to apply, although it provides some abstract notions about different epistemologies related to space. It is worth noting that whereas these three categories exemplify separately conceptualizations of space; it is in holding them beside or against each other that a deeper understanding of space comes alive. Lefebvre’s framework, because it is created to span disparate dimensions such as philosophy, art and architecture, incorporates a number of dimensions, such as physical versus abstract space, the aspect of time and many others. His ambition goes far beyond our more modest ambition of offering alternatives to the way we think about organization. We will therefore not attempt to carry on his multidimensional framework but rather take it as a testimony to the multiple conceptualizations and uses of the imagery of space. His distinction between physical, mental and social space, however, will be pursued in the chapters that follow.


Summing up Whereas “context” is a term used by several writers in social science, it has limitations in relation to the study of organization. In this chapter we have outlined limitations of the term “context” and the transition has been made to the use of the term “space”, which it is argued offers a more expansive view of organized action and interaction. An important three-pronged distinction between physical, mental and social space has been introduced, drawing upon Lefebvre (1991).

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Chapter 5

Boundaries in fields of spaces If a distinction could be made, then it would create a space (Spencer Brown, 1997)

Without boundaries a space cannot be a space, because without boundaries it cannot be distinguished from other spaces. In other words, we would not know how to observe the space. Nor would we know about the conditions for entering or leaving the space. Moreover, the boundaries of space relate to how the space is defended, promoted and integrated. Entities, such as groups, organizational units, institutions and communities operate with boundary characteristics, which again influence the interactions between the entities. In this chapter, a framework is developed that distinguishes spaces on the basis of their boundary characteristics. The term “spatial field” is introduced.

Introduction In his seminal work on ethnic groups, Barth (1969) urged analysts to focus the investigation on the ethnic boundary that defines the group, not the “cultural stuff that it encloses” (p. 15). Barth’s argument from studying inter-ethnical processes is that we are better off studying how cultures are formed through differentiation, further how differentiation is maintained as groups come into contact with each other. Barth’s focus is on the boundaries of the groups, because it is at the boundaries that salient propoerties of the group maniufest themselves. The shift of focus from the centre of a culture towards the margins is echoed by Douglas (1966), who places rituals in the context of boundary work. Boundaries are areas of tension that are tested by members. Therefore, according to Douglas, boundaries are dangerous places. However, they are also areas of transition. There is, as she notes, “… energy in [society’s] margins and unstructured areas” (Douglas, 1966: 114). One relevant and useful inference we can make from the works of social anthropologists, is that if we wish to study change, we are well advised to study boundary-related dynamics. A study of organization as space could usefully take the boundaries and their dynamics as its point of departure. However, boundaries are inevitably complex (Hernes and Paulsen, 2003), and it becomes necessary to try and come to grips with

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their composite nature. This is what the present chapter attempts to do, notably by working from the following four ideas: – – – –

boundaries are centre, not periphery, spatial dynamics is about creating, moving or consolidating boundaries; boundaries are composite, i.e. organization consists of multiple spaces each with their own sets of boundaries; boundaries are constantly subject to construction and reconstruction; boundary properties reflect the substance of the space.

Spatial fields Drucker (1997) describes the transition of organizational forms as moving towards “concentric, overlapping coordinated rings rather than as pyramids”. The imagery suggests that not only are organizations becoming exposed to a wider variety of internal mechanisms of coordination. It also suggests that mechanisms overlap with one another, which by implication means that although mechanisms of coordination (or “organizations”) may be understood in isolation from one another, they may also be understood from the ways in which they interrelate. They are connected in time and space in what in this chapter is referred as “spatial fields”. Organizational fields consist of a number of mechanisms that are brought into contact with one another in a variety of ways. These organizational entities are not limited to formal organizations, but may include entities from large stable structures down to smaller, informal groups or networks. The assumption is that if change is a central focus, then properties other than size merit attention. It is worth paying attention to the observation by Weick and Quinn (1999) who, drawing on a number of studies of organizational change, warn against downplaying the importance of micro-level changes. Micro-level changes, they argue, may provide not just a platform and a means for transformational change, but also the means to institutionalize it. Hernes (2003a), for example, illustrates how the organization of a business school consists of interacting entities, such as projects, research centres and departments. Such entities have different time-space properties, which provides them with both limitations and potential for acting in the field. The evolution of the field thus depends in part on the relative ability of mechanisms to wield influence. ‘Fields’, of course, is not a new term. It is used by DiMaggio and Powell (1983), who borrowed the term from Bourdieu. DiMaggio and Powell conceptualize a field as a recognized area of institutional life. Their definition is consistent with new institutional theory, which is largely based on seeking out patterns of similarity. A

Boundaries in fields of spaces

field, as the term is used in the present chapter, is seen through the lens of interactions of the entities that make it up. Interactions may arise from collaboration and converging interests, as writers such as Benson (1975) and Warren (1967) emphasize. However, interactions may also be seen through the lens of mutual influence. In a field, actors create their own space of operation by wielding influence on other organizations. This aspect of inter-organizational relations has been studied extensively, notably from resource dependence perspectives, new institutional perspectives and inter-organizational network perspectives. From a resource dependence perspective, organizations manage their interdependence with other organizations through regulation of their resources. From an inter-organizational network perspective, they wield influence by being central to the network and by their connectedness to other organizations. From a new institutionalist perspective, organizations adopt certain structures that are legitimized by dominant institutions. These three perspectives have encouraged a wealth of studies that have shown how various parameters play a role in the relative ability between organizations to wield influence. However, perspectives such as these operate conceptually with the organization as a stable entity with actors with stable preferences, and the fields are implicitly assumed to evolve towards equilibrium states. What is overlooked is the process of emergence and evolution of organizations in a field and, further, how the process influences and is influenced in turn by other organizations; in other words, how the field evolves over time and space. This is pointed out by Clegg and Hardy (1996: 680) in their concluding chapter of the 1996 Handbook of organization studies as one area where inter-organizational research is wanting. Triggers of change in fields tend to be overlooked, they argue, and causes tend to be presented in the form of reified environmental and technological mechanisms. Some work does place more emphasis on emergent characteristics, such as Oliver and Montgomery (2000), who study how hybrid organizational forms emerge from “parental” forms of organizations. In studying the emergence of the organization structure of a biotechnology firm Oliver and Montgomery demonstrate that a process approach can be a useful alternative to a “reification” view. However, the perspective is not extensively applied. Moreover, new understanding can be developed by studying fields through the lens of boundaries.

Boundaries are intrinsic and not incidental to organization Instead of viewing the boundary as drawn analytically or, as Etzioni suggests, as incidental to organization (Goffman, 1961), boundary setting is intrinsic to the very process of organizing. Boundaries are not “by-products” of organization, but

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organization (“organization” defined broadly, ranging from informal groups to formal organizations) evolves through processes of boundary setting. Like any social system, an organization emerges through the processes of drawing distinctions, and it persists through the reproduction of boundaries. The focus is moved from what goes on inside the organization to its margins, where it is produced and reproduced. Moreover, boundaries are not drawn once and for all, as tends to be assumed in the case of stable systems. Instead, the emergence of a social organization takes place through a series of distinction-drawing operations. This means that boundaries emerge and are reproduced through interactions (Giddens, 1984). The system, or the space, does not evolve towards some kind of predefined stasis or environmental “fit”, but boundaries are drawn again and again, partly based on past experiences, partly based on changes in the environment. What is of primary interest from a dynamic viewpoint is how boundaries are drawn in distinctiondrawing operations and what basic characteristics we may confer upon the boundaries.

A framework for studying organizational boundaries If we are to capture processes in spatial fields, we should work from a differentiated view of boundaries (Hernes, 2004). To study boundaries, however, entails largely studying something that cannot be seen. Apart from tangible structures, such as factory gates, budgets and programmes, job descriptions and meeting agendas, most boundaries are invisible or at best blurred. This does not mean that phenomena other than tangible structures, such as social and cognitive processes cannot be conceived as circumscribed mechanisms. For example, mental spaces are circumscribed by boundaries reflecting the outer limits of sensemaking, as argued above. Similarly, social spaces may be circumscribed by limits of tolerated behaviour. It does, however, mean we are given to studying them through proxies that are likely to represent the boundaries we wish to study. This demands we differentiate boundaries according to the mechanisms that govern what goes on inside them, which differs depending on whether we consider a space to be social, mental of physical. In the following a framework will be (Table 3) will be discussed that has two dimensions; one reflecting the actual processes that the boundary circumscribes, and the other dimension describing the influence of the boundary on the dynamics of the space. Where the two axes intersect examples are given of research questions related to boundaries.


Table 3.A framework for interpreting boundaries and corresponding research questions (from Hernes, 2004)

Ordering The extent to which boundaries regulate internal interaction.

Distinction The extent to which boundaries constitute a clear demarcation between the external and the internal spheres Threshold The extent to which boundaries regulate flow or movement between the external and the internal spheres

Mental boundaries (relate to bounding of core ideas and concepts that are central and particular to the group or organization)

Social boundaries (relate to identity and social bonding tying the group or organization together)

Physical boundaries (relate to formal rules and physical structures regulating human action and interaction in the group or organization)

to what extent are main ideas and concepts decisive for what members do?

to what extent do members feel that they are socially bonded together by such as loyalty?

to what extent do formal rules or physical structure regulate the work of members?

to what extent are to what extent are we core ideas and consocially distinct from cepts distinctly differ- other groups? ent from those of other groups?

to what extent does our formal structure set us apart from other groups or organizations?

to what extent can outsiders assimilate core ideas and concepts?

to what extent do formal structures hinder the recruitment of outsiders?

to what extent is it possible for outsiders to be considered full members of the group?

Physical, social and mental boundaries The first dimension refers to the nature of the space a boundary circumscribes. The assumption is made that boundaries reflect the substance of the space. Therefore, following Lefebvre (1991) a three-fold typification is drawn between social, mental and physical boundaries corresponding to the spatial typology used in this book. Physical boundaries, such as structure, prescribe outer limits of, for example, the execution of tasks and discretion in the use of resources. Boundaries are also made up by electronic means, regulating who has and who does not have, access to certain electronic domains. Physical boundaries tend to be tangible and erected purposely for instrumental purposes, although instrumental intentions will always be entangled with symbolic effects.

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Social boundaries, on the other hand, are largely given by the social bonding between people. They are likely to be reflected in things like loyalty, trust and behavioural norms. The boundary, which is normally unvisible to the eye, becomes manifest if what we do or say is seen as a transgression. When we are disloyal we transgress the boundaries of loyalty. If we betray we transgress the boundaries of trust. If I behave in ways that are generally deemed unacceptable, I transgress the behavioural boundaries of the social space. These mechanisms are connected to the identity because our identity is based on the boundaries we draw in relation to other groups or wider society. The social space may be created out of a need to be socially distinct from other groups and organizations. Moreover, this social distinction can only be maintained through the internal social bonding, as it becomes translated into norms of behaviour, what Elias and Scotson (1994) refer to as “etiquette”. “Etiquette”, according to Elias and Scotson, is part of inward control that enables the group to position itself outwardly in relation to other groups. Spaces vary according to much they regulate behaviour, and the extent of regulation is expressed by the tightness of their boundaries. Mental boundaries relate to mechanisms, such as ideas, understanding and beliefs that tend to guide organized actions. Drawing mental boundaries forms part of the way we cope together in making sense of the world. Zerubavel (1993) points out how, through the “social lens”, we carve reality up into “islands of meaning” that form a basis for what we do. These “islands of meaning” are sometimes constructed arbitrarily, as distinctions are made to seem like neat lines even when in reality they are mere fuzzy gradations. Nevertheless, we construct socially islands that appear as insular compartments, into which we in turn force “reality” (Zerubavel 1993: 74–76). There is some similarity with Schön, who studied organizational learning and how practitioners go about problem solving: When we set the problem, we select what we will treat as the ‘things’ of the situation, we set the boundaries of our attention to it, and we impose upon it a coherence which allows us to say what is wrong and in what direction the situation needs to be changed. Problem setting is a process in which, interactively, we name the things to which we will attend and frame the context in which we will attend to them. (Schön, 1983: 40)

The categories of physical, social and mental boundaries do in themselves contain several dimensions, which means that we could specify a very high number of combinations of boundaries. I leave the three-pronged distinction at this level of specification, acknowledging that it could be expressed as a more fine-grained structure.


Boundaries as ordering, distinctions and thresholds A second dimension of the suggested framework is more directed towards the effects that boundaries have on the space. It is possible to distinguish between three different effects; boundaries as ordering devices, as distinctions and as thresholds (Hernes, 2004). As ordering devices, boundaries act as tolerance limits (Harshbarger, 1973) for human actions and interactions, which means that most of the time most people will stay within the boundaries, which agains creates some stability of expectations. We expect that people and units generally stay within the limits, which makes it possible for others to plan and to achieve what they set out to do. Crossing the ordering boundary implies transgressing organizational arrangements, such as by breaking formal rules (in relation to physical boundaries), violating social norms (in relation to social boundaries) or practising heresy (in relation to mental boundaries). Spaces may be said to vary according to how tightly or loosely the boundaries order behaviour. Heavy bureaucracies, for example, with tight physical boundaries tend to order administrative behaviour in certain ways that other forms of co-ordination do not. The second effect of boundaries is as distinction. Boundaries are markers of identity serving to convey distinct physical, social or mental features by which a space is distinguished from the environment. For example, the army uses discipline, uniforms, rituals and language to drawn some distinctions between itself and the broader society. As spaces are formed through the drawing of distinctions between themselves and the external environment, over time distinctions are continuously redrawn. In order to uphold an institution, for example, rituals may be performed in order to ensure that distinct institutionalized features do not become eroded. On the other hand, at early stages of formation, distinctions are drawn tentatively and they are likely to be amenable to change from external or internal pressure. An example of drawing distinction through social boundaries is in the formation and the maintenance of the social identity. Social distinctions are maintained through symbols such as artefacts, but are also upheld through stories and myths. Distinction through mental boundaries reflect ideas and beliefs by which the space is distinguished from the external environment. A third effect of boundaries is to serve as thresholds. Boundaries act as thresholds to import and export of resources such as people, ideas and materials. This is what writers primarily refer to when they point out that boundaries are “permeable” (March and Simon, 1958) or they describe organizations as “leaky” (Perrow, 1986). Very high thresholds signify that the space is strictly regulated. Low thresholds, on the other hand, signifies a higher degree of exchange with the external environment, and has as a main consequence a higher degree of malleability,

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because people may easily move in and out of the space. Physical boundaries may limit or permit recruitment by imposing, for example, formal criteria such as education or experience on new recruits. Social boundaries may act as thresholds in the sense that the newcomers find it more or less easy to be socially accepted. Tight social boundaries tend to narrow down the diversity of people who are admitted into the space. Mental boundaries may reflect the extent to what the repertoire of ideas, terminologies and beliefs is accessible to outsiders. The topic of work may, for example, be too esoteric from someone from outside the space to take fully part in the discussion. The framework in Table 3 (Hernes, 2004) is an attempt at conceptualizing different boundary characteristics of spaces. Characteristics of boundaries are likely to influence, not only how people behave in relation to the spaces, but also how spaces interact when brought into contact with one another. If we let go of the bounded view of organization we may visualise organization as consisting of fields of spaces that form and interact. Spaces in fields may take on widely different characteristics, ranging from formal organizations to groups and professions.

Summing up Space only really makes sense in the presence of boundaries. A framework has been developed that allow for interpretation of spatial boundaries. First, boundaries may be grouped according to the substance of the space, which distinguishes between social, physical and mental boundaries. Second, boundaries may be grouped according to how they regulate the space in question. A three-pronged distinction has been made between boundaries as ordering, boundaries as distinction and boundaries as thresholds. The idea has been put forward of “fields” of spaces.

Chapter 6

Physical space Organization by regulation and binding

“Work division is the foundation of organization; indeed the reason for organization.” Gulick and Urwick (1937: 3)

The origins of organization are primarily associated with the ordering of human action and interaction through regulation by physically tangible means. Basic forms of regulation relate to the division of work, introduction of formal rules and hierarchy. These, and others, are material measures that are used to meet needs for predictability and stability. History shows that a number of different mechanisms have been employed, from the eighteenth-century walls through the twentieth-century formal structures and up to today’s electronic communication. Even though measures such as these are materially different, they are conceptually close to one another, as their principal aims and purposes are to bind resources over time and space. Another characteristic they share is that they are made by humans, but the mechanism by which order is attempted imposed is material and non-human.

In organization theory, physical space is essentially seen as made of tangible entities. It is associated with material barriers, such as walls defining limits of movement and access. Latter day organizations employ an additional form of material space created by electronic media, which regulate not only who has access but what information may be channelled through the different media. This physical regulation influences in turn the width and depth of the exchange of information (Hernes, 2000). A third type of physical space is defined by formal rules, plans and distribution of roles and resources. This is a type of physical creation which perhaps is the one that is most dealt with in the study of the modern organization, as it touches upon the important issues of managing activities through mechanisms of differentiation and integration. Some readers may find it surprising that rules are given a spatial interpretation. However, rules only exceptionally prescribe behaviour. To be sure, there are many instances for which rules prescribe behaviour. For example, at a practical level, emergency procedure have rules to be followed, such

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as what exit to take if fire should break out and you are located in a certain corner of the building. At a more general level, rules are also prescriptive, such as to whom requests for budget extensions should be addressed and to whom they should be copied. However, rules form mainly outer limits for what is deemed allowable. A rule, such as how much discretion a decision-maker has before he or she must confer the decision to her manager, is a typical outer limit type of rule. Within the outer limit he or she can operate with reasonable autonomy, and this could be called her particular “regulatory space”. Within this space the person can to some extent carve out his or her own agenda; combine activities and standards that correspond as much as possible to the person’s priorities. Similarly, when an organizational unit is given a budget limit, an outer limit is imposed for the spending and allocation of resources internally in the unit. The budgetary allocation to the unit as a whole represents a space in which decisions can be made about many activities under its discretion. We do not pay attention to whether the budget is imposed by, say, senior management, or whether it has been created largely by the unit itself. Rules as prescription and rules as outer limits exist side by side and there does not need to be any contradiction between them. It is a matter of choice of analysis, similar to that faced by students of semiotics. Semiotics as the “meaning of texts” may be applied in different ways. It may be applied in order to derive observations about the actual meaning of codes used in communication. On the other hand, it may also be applied to understand how the various codes combine to constrain what is being communicated. In the first case we look at what exactly is being communicated. In the second case we focus on the outer limits of what is possible to communicate with the codes the communicator has at his or her disposition. In organizational analysis, whether we as analysts choose to focus on one or the other has obvious implications for the outcome of the analysis. A prescriptive interpretation will tend towards explaining stability and deviation. An “outer limit” (spatial) interpretation, on the other hand, allows for explaining how rules (in this case) are constructed and reconstructed. The foundations and rationale of physical space are elaborated under Weber’s (1968) discussion of bureaucracy. Whereas bureaucracy, to many writers and practitioners, is associated with red tape or with inhuman mechanisms of coordination, Weber’s work on bureaucracy is not always given the depth of analysis that it deserves. Bureaucracy is easy to exhort, and Weber’s defence of it may easily be misinterpreted at will. Misinterpretation is partly due to Weber’s own discussion of bureaucracy, partly due to our concept of “organizations”. His discussion is biased towards instrumental aspects, such as precision, speed, unambiguity, continuity, discretion etc. (Weber 1968: 973), which lends the impression that the more bureaucracy the better (although he himself suggested that too much bureaucracy also stifles and may lead to the downfall of systems, such as the Roman

Physical space

Empire). Hence “organizations” may be seen as being more or less bureaucratic. Moreover, when we speak of “organizations” in organization theory, we are less observant of the actual areas of bureaucracy inside them. To describe organizations as more or less bureaucratic is to miss the point about the where and how bureaucracy matters. Even the most pervasively bureaucratic organizations have spaces of fluidity that persons and units have carved out, legitimately or not. Weber’s basic, and penetrating, observation is that bureaucracy is a system of rules of discretion that functions independently of the incumbent. This very important observation is most commonly interpreted in the light of the importance of a stable apparatus to stem the actions of idiosyncratic rulers. Bureaucracy was seen by Weber as a means of ensuring justice and democracy, because it would implement decisions according to rules that outlived the presence of rulers, and they would be executed by officials who, through training, developed superior competencies in their fields of work. While discussing the virtues of bureaucracy in political terms, Weber observed that it prevailed in large commercial enterprises as well. If we move into the realm of organizations and look around for more generic forms of organization and their rationale, Weber’s observation can be given additional interpretations. The establishment of rules of discretion for certain operations may provide just the necessary stability of expectations that confers legitimacy upon the organization — in the eyes of insiders as well as outsiders to the organization. When Weber (1968: 975) argues that bureaucracy enables a system that functions “without regards for persons”, it is not to be taken to signify an inhuman system, but a system whose technical functioning is in part protected from the personal will and interest of individuals. One could argue, for example, that even the most organic forms of organization, appearing almost devoid of any bureaucracy, contain spheres of activity that are created to remain stable regardless of who is in power. This applies in particular to systems of accounting, which yield financial indicators of performance. Whether the goals of an organization are entirely human, such as in the case of development aid organizations (Kamsteeg, 2003) or financial, there is without exception a system of measurement and assessment that functions largely independently of whom is in charge inside the organization. The more companies and public agencies are subjected to standards ranging from accounting to quality, safety and equality (Brunsson and Jacobsson, 2000) the more alike and widespread such mechanisms become. Whereas the mechanisms may be overarching, they are reproduced inside the organizational boundaries in the form of structures that perform according to the logics of bureaucracy. Apart from its general definitions, physical space exhibits two major characteristics, each of which has consequences for organizational analysis. First, it is tangible. Its entities, be they rules, roles, walls or other, are visible entities that

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reflect its construction over time. Buildings, for example, as pointed out by various authors in Gagliardi’s (1992) anthology on the symbolic nature of physical space, are important expressive tangible testimonies of organization evolution. The lavish glass and steel construction of modern banks convey years of occupying exclusive roles in the shaping of modern economic life. Similarly, rules, roles and regulations, in addition to serving as instruments for harmonising behaviour, convey what it means to part of a particular organization. Rules and regulations are introduced as a consequence of events or processes in the past and represent partly imprints from history on the present organization. They are seen as experience-based interventions to reinforce desired actions or to avoid dysfunctional actions. This makes physical space a testimony of the successes and failures that have made the organization what it is, although some of its aspects and their associated experiences are forgotten over time. The tangibility and the testimonial powers of physical space have the consequences of making its dismantling potentially contentious in the organization, as dismantling may be seen as at attempt at obliterating a visible memory. A second characteristic of physical space is that it binds resources over time and space. Erecting physical space in terms of plans, budgets and structure is essentially an attempt at stabilizing activities and projecting this stabilized state into an anticipated future. It is important to note that the term “binding” is not intended to imply that physical space can exercise absolute binding on human action and interaction. If it could, then we would be able to predict behaviour on the grounds of, say, formal rules that are laid down in organizations, which is manifestly not the case. March and Olsen (1989), for example, claim that rules are repeatedly violated in organizations. Elsewhere I describe different ways of transgression in organizations (Hernes, 2002). But one could take it even further: not only does physical structure not impose absolute influence on actions and interactions, but it may under some circumstances lead to the opposite of what was intended. Although binding cannot be taken to be absolute — making an exception for “total institutions” (Goffman, 1961) — it does not prevent physical space to be treated as binding in people’s minds. Paradoxical as it may seem when, for example, people establish budgets, they fix them as if they are going to be adhered to, while perhaps knowing that they may be violated. In other words, although it is generally known that a physical space will be transgressed in terms of actions or behaviour, it does not prevent people from fully taking part in defining the same physical space as though it will be binding. As a stabilizing mechanism physical space is formative, as rules are established for the span of attention of people in the organization. Information systems and their corresponding rules for access, rules for distribution of resources, including those that govern hiring, promotion and firing criteria and many others, serve to

Physical space

stabilize human actions and interaction. Such stabilization makes physical space propitious for accommodating organizations of smaller time-space extension, such as projects and other types of temporary organization. The time-space extension of physical space allows for resources to be “lent” to temporary organizations. In addition, physical space, by means of routines and systems, acts sometimes as a means of capitalizing on experiences and insights from temporary organizations. Organization much more limited in time-space may thus emerge from physical space and be absorbed back into it in turn.

Origins of physical space as organization Organization, in its most basic form, refers to the pure instrumental condition of a task system. The verb “organize” derives from the Latin word organum, which refers to “instrument”. The Latin word organa derives from the Greek word organon which relates to implement, tool, musical instrument, organ of sense, organ of the body, related to ergon: work (Chambers, 1987). Organization seen as “instrument” has clear connotations to intention, and intention of organization takes place in the transition from spontaneous to ordered activity. Taken in this sense, the history of organizing goes at least back to the Roman era. Waltzing (1900, in Durkheim [1893]1997), points out that “all classes of workers seemed seized with a desire to increase greatly the number of professional associations”, and Durkheim comments that All the numerous classes of workers, it would seem, ended up by grouping themselves into collegial bodies, and the same was true for those who lived by commerce. At the same time such groupings became modified in their character, finishing up as mere cogs in the administrative machine. They fulfilled official functions, with each corporation being looked upon as a public service for which the corresponding corporation assumed the obligation and responsibility vis-à-vis the state. (Durkheim, [1893]1997: xxxvii)

The transition described by Durkheim is from spontaneous associations to a formalized mechanism of recognized bodies. The transition consists largely of a formalization of duties and roles, and comes about as an intention to bind people and activities together in a more predictable and stable form.

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Agrarian organization and physical space How far back can we and should we go to unravel the roots of organization? Adam Smith certainly observed early versions of modern industrial organization, and we also have records of early administrative organization in sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Europe, as Harste (2003) points out. Centuries earlier, however, agrarian life dominated and was also partly run along organizational principles. Bourdieu’s (1977) detailed observations from Kabylia in Algeria in the early 1960s show up a number of aspects of social organization that can be translated into forms of spatial organization. Bourdieu, it should be noted, draws largely on the notion of space in his writings. Apart from the much-cited idea of “habitus”, he developed the notion of “fields”, which was later adopted by DiMaggio and Powell’s (1991) influential work in organization theory. Bourdieu conceptualizes spaces in relation to fields, although the distinction he draws between the two terms is not always clear (Swartz 1997: 132). Bourdieu makes a number of references to physical as well as social space, both of which take on both instrumental and symbolic meanings in Kabylian society. We may take it as given that many of the practices observed by Bourdieu have ancient roots. Among examples of physical space we find the house and the centre of the village. When it comes to the overall organization of work, however, Bourdieu notes that by far the most direct and important mechanism of organization is the agrarian calendar. The agrarian calendar is a highly codified aspect of social life that plays a central role in orchestrating groups’ activities. Although its direct ramification is practical, in the sense that it orders activities such as ploughing, sowing, tilling and harvesting, it also has a number of symbolic implications such as related to the life cycle, fertility, feasts, rituals and social organization. Although the calendar is orally transmitted and may to the external observer be subject to ambiguity and contradiction, it conveys a series of times and periods for what should be done and of what should not be done. Bourdieu notes, for example, that The characteristic tasks of the wet season, tillage (in the fig orchards) and sowing, which is still permitted in the ‘green days’, are absolutely banned from the period known as the ‘yellow days’. (Bourdieu, 1977: 103–104)

He notes similarly that the moment when the first figs appear, el haq (the law) is imposed, whereby fig picking is banned, even from one’s own trees. Thus the calendar is a set of regulations that orders practical life in the village, while having important symbolic implications. What is striking about the calendar is that it is transmitted by persons, but its origin and content are independent of those persons. Moreover, although it has been transmitted orally, it is a relatively immutable and tangible structure. Bourdieu describes how the calendar actually

Physical space

provides guide-marks and thus substitutes a linear, homogeneous, continuous line for practical time. My interpretation of the agrarian calendar is that it may be seen as a physical space created for the ordering of activity, in the sense that it is an early explicit and relatively immutable structure for human actions, much the way that Bergson comments on time being inscribed in the physical space of the clock (Harvey 1990: 201). Does this describe the earliest example, of physical space? Most definitely not. Before man became agrarian he was a hunter and before he became sedentary he was nomadic. There is no reason to think that semi-stable societies did not also have their means of erecting physical space in one form or another. If we take a look at what archaeologists do, for example, we find that social boundaries expressed through material artefacts have been uncovered in ancient cultures (Stark, 1998). But let us leave the pre-industrial world at this stage and return to the world of organization as we as organization researchers tend to study it.

Emergence of public administration — the creation of a new elite Apart from large army organizations and large cities, which have existed since time immemorial, early attempts at large-scale organization are found in the public service. Public organization is intimately linked to political developments and the European state formation. Weber’s concern was that bureaucracy would, through the creation of formal rules and physical division, be a system that eliminated much of the personal bias of direct rule. Therefore, Weber’s version of bureaucracy is idealized, as he wants to demonstrate how it should function. Public institutions, to be adequate guardians of justice and social rights in the formation of the modern state, had to guarantee the physical separation of the office-holder from his private interests. This is what would mark an advance of the modern state over idiosyncratic rule. Thus Weber’s bureaucracy was also premised on the idea of drawing boundaries (Olsen and Brunsson, 1998), such as to separate the official from his private sphere and thus to make it probable that he applied objective criteria in his work. Weber is clear about the demarcation made by the boundary of the office: Rather, entrance into an office, including one in the private economy, is considered an acceptance of a specific duty of fealty to the purpose of the office (Amtstreue) in return for the grant of a secure existence. It is decisive for the modern loyalty to an office that, in the pure form, it does not establish a relationship to a person. (Weber, 1968: 959)

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Weber’s view of a bureaucrat was someone who was a product of the modernization of society; he did not emerge from an existing role or form. This is a point at which latter day sociologists have taken issue with Weber. Harste (2003), in an analysis of the emergence of public administration in sixteenth- and seventeenthcentury France, argues that the bureaucrats, or commissionaires, took on codes that had previously been reserved for the noblesse and the church. His arguments are based on the concept of self-reference theorized by Luhmann, which aims to explain how systems evolve and sustain themselves through differentiation. The codes by which the commissionaires executed their duties evolved from the role of overseers of various regions of France. The codes covered aspects, such as law, ownership and taxation. The commissionaires were bound by legal means to their duties. In other words, they operated within a regulatory immutable space defined by the codes and bound by their conditions of employment. Harste also points out how the physical space took shape: From a circumvented ordered form, describing the order of the royal estate itself, the king’s garden took the finance minister Nicolas Bouquet’s new, rationalist Vaux-le-Vicomte as model — a really great scandal — and implemented it in Versailles. 30,000 workers constructed Versailles on swampy soil and demonstrated how a central perspective could be used as model of coordination of space and synchronization of time in the production of all kinds of materials as things castled in iron and bronze, threes disciplined for every kind of use, fruits, even strange foreign fruits as supplies. The soil was leveled and formed after models of fortification, and Versailles was formed as one big organizational chart over war supplies to navies and armies. (Harste, 2003: 89)

Emergence of organization of the firm — physical spatialization Through the nineteenth century the concept “organization” occupied an important role, as models of state organizations were copied to private firms (Harste, 2002). In the transition from cottage industries to factories the physical space afforded by walls made possible the accumulation of stock, efficient utilization of machine and supervision. Proximity of people and materials facilitated by walls made it possible to divide work into smaller units, again making it possible for each worker to concentrate on simpler operations. This was noted with enthusiasm by Adam Smith in his classic The wealth of nations. Smith emphasized the advantages of organized industrial work over cottage industries. He noted, for example, that A country weaver, who cultivates a small farm, must lose a good deal of time passing from his loom to the field, and from the field to his loom. When the two trades can be carried on in the same workhouse (italics added) the loss of time is no doubt much less. (Smith, [1776]1986: 113)

Physical space

Smith’s enthusiasm for the idea of assembling workers in one room (in workhouses) derived surely from the gains that could be made in terms of supervision. By placing many workers into one workhouse they could be viewed by a supervisor. Moreover, the physical proximity offered by the premises allowed their actions to be separated and interconnected at the same time. The separation of activities allowed for specialization and corresponding efficiency gains. Connecting work activities to one another allowed for production of assemblies that could not have been produced by the workers separately. Smith draws upon observations of the production of pins to make his point: …a workman not educated to his business […], nor acquainted with the use of the machinery employed in it […] could scarce, perhaps, with his utmost industry, make one pin a day, and certainly could not make twenty. But in the way in which this business is now carried on, not only the whole work is a peculiar trade, but it is divided into a number of branches, of which the greater part are likewise peculiar trades. One man draws out the wire, another straights it, a third cuts it, a fourth points it, a fifth grinds it at the top for receiving the head; to make the head requires three distinctive operations; to put it on is a peculiar business, to whiten the pins is another; it is even a trade by itself to put them into the paper; and the important business of making a pin is, in this manner, divided into about eighteen distinct operations, which, in some manufactories, are all performed by distinct hands, though in others the same man will perform two or three of them. (Smith, [1776]1986: 110)

Almost 150 years after the appearance of Adam Smith’s book, the supervisory aspect of organized work in confined space was subjected to systematic study by Taylor and the scientific management movement. Taylor used purposely the power of separation and integration offered by physical partitioning to improve productivity in factories. Later works on organization structure, such as the work of the Aston group in the UK and Blau, Scott and colleagues in the US, used more elaborate parameters, such as concentration of authority, differentiation and span of control to assess organizational effectiveness. These studies are, albeit more sophisticated than studying simple supervision, in many ways studies of physical partitioning, or physical space, although the walls may have been partly replaced by rules and responsibilities. The optimism found with Smith and Taylor, and to some extent Weber over the merits of physical space, finds severe resistance with Foucault (1995), who reveals some of the perverse effects that physical space may have on supervision. Foucault’s (1995) analysis of seventeenth-century manufactories in particular brings to our attention meticulous ways in which order and discipline are ensured through surveillance. Foucault makes extensive use of space, and his intriguing question is how the “system” manages through spatial design to ensure disciplined

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behaviour without spending resources on supervising each and every individual. Foucault’s explanation is that through clever design it is possible to ensure that individuals perform auto-discipline, and that it is achieved by the creation of spheres where the individual feels that he is being watched, although that may not be the case. An extreme device for surveillance is the panopticon, which by its architectural design allows for power to be “invisible and unverifiable” (Foucault 1995: 201). Through his choice of examples and his penetrating analysis of their effects Foucault alerts us to the centrality of physical space in organized life. His object is primarily that of physical space. There is thus an extreme swing of the pendulum from the rationalists’ utilitarian and optimistic view of the powers of space in production, to Foucault’s important analysis of how space may be a means of manipulation and indoctrination.

The corporation and financial control With the birth of the modern corporation, the dilemma of complexity emerged. Chandler (1990) shows how, in the beginning of the twentieth century, with the building of the railway, corporations had to extend their operations into a variety of areas. The problem became one of remote control, a control mechanism that allowed for units of operation to be monitored and controlled on a uniform basis. The “uniform basis” was provided by the basic unity; the monetary performance of the various units. Hence, control is possible through the monitoring of financial performance of the various units. Thus Fligstein (1987) shows how corporate control is linked to financial control, further how this facilitates the promotion of finance personnel to top positions in corporations. Financial control is basically an instrument of measurable indicators that forms a physical space for action and interaction. As a physical space, it both sets the limits for what people can and should do and it forms the basis for assessing how well they perform. If financial control was important in order to control the early twentiethcentury corporation, its importance has by no means diminished with the fragmentation of contemporary organizations. With organizations holding many activities together through common culture and common location, financial control is an auxiliary to other forms of control. However, in fragmented reality where actors are interdependent while at the same time being institutionally and physically displaced from one another, financial control becomes an almost universal substitution for other forms of control. The proliferation of outsourcing among forms is one way in which economic contracts replace hierarchy as a mode of control.

Physical space

The physical space of electronics Much of our work at present takes place in what we might call “electronic space”. Communication technologies are normally referred to as technologies that in a linear sense facilitate actions and interactions. In addition, they form contexts in the sense of electronic spaces in which interactions take place. Think of “cyberspace”. Cyberspace is the sphere where electronic messages and images are exchanged. Within cyberspace a host of other electronic spaces are formed, including intranets used by organizations. Electronic space has a number of specificities that makes it a peculiar space for action and interaction. First, patterns of access are both complex and consistent. Access is managed through automation by technicians, but it can be regulated so that you have certain types of access to some domains whereas you are barred from others. Second, the space is a medium of expression with concise limits. With the exception of video conferencing, exchange is limited to text or still images, which means that all types of gestures and other contextual signals that we find in face-to-face communication are excluded from the exchange. This, rather “clinical” medium of expression has the advantage of reducing the effects of personal power. On the other hand, it eliminates the possibility of communicating over topics that are open-ended, where cues, distractions and detours enable innovation through the discovery of new perspectives. Third, electronic space changes the meaning of presence and availability. A physical space, such as a meeting room, is only activated for the duration of meetings, i.e. under social co-presence. Electronic space allows interaction on an asynchronous basis as people log into the system at different times while responding to the same issues.

Physical space and the question of emergence The creation of physical space arises from a need to obtain order and to ensure predictability. The above examples suggest that this may be done in a variety of ways, including work division, financial control and electronic media. Physical space, although it is made up of material items, emerges as intentional design by people. It cannot emerge by itself, as much as it cannot reproduce itself. The conditions for its emergence are nevertheless interesting. There has been a divide in organization theory on the conception of formal structure, which is treated as physical space for the purpose of the discussion in this book. On the one hand, neo-Weberians operated with formal structure as an instrument of ordering of activities. Perfecting the structure would allow organizational designers to optimize organizational performance (e.g. Blau, 1970). Such an assumption of instrumental

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rationality embodied in formal structure was challenged in a seminal paper by Meyer and Rowan (1977) in which they basically see formal structure as a myth and ceremony. Formal structure is celebrated, they claim, because it represents a myth that is widely entertained. Meyer and Rowan’s work has since influenced a large number of works, notably under the label of “new institutionalism”. Whether we see formal structure as a means of instrumental rationality or as a ritual is largely a question of semantics. Close to the field differences between “rationality” and “myth” are sometimes hard to perceive, and a spatial view of organization allows us to bridge the gap between them. Strati puts it thus: The physical features of an organization serve symbolic and expressive purposes as well as instrumental ones, and the activities of an organization are often associated with particular places. Organizations, declares Jeffrey Pfeffer (1982: 260–1), define social as well as spatial distances, both among individuals and among organizational levels, sections, departments and units. People make use of both physical and socially defined ‘spatial divisions of the areas available to them’ in order ‘to manipulate aspects of the organizational social interaction’. (Turner 1971: 120–1). (Strati, 2000: 118)

Regardless of whether the emergence of a physical space may be classified as ritualistic or instrumental, it may be put down to intentions of control. The above discussion of different forms of physical space suggests that there is a panoply of options to choose from, and in most cases a mixture of different mechanisms evolve to give an organization its distinct features. The exact choice of mechanism is not trivial, but nor should it be overestimated — the point is that a physical space is developed for the purpose of control and stability.

Physical space and the question of history and time Physical space in inscribed in the present by its symbolic features. A cathedral may arouse our attention because it symbolizes a long past and we associate it with divine powers. Its beauty is an expression of ancient craftsmanship and art. For such reasons it is very hard indeed to distinguish between the cathedral as a symbol and a physical structure. If a cathedral were, for example, to just appear from one day to the next, we would be filled with wonder, perhaps admiration, but it would be largely devoid of meaning. Organization is not a cathedral in a literal sense, but sometimes certain aspects are attempted preserved as if they were cathedrals. For example, in American companies such as Apple and Hewlett Packard we might speak of the garage turned into cathedral. The first computers were conceived in garages, which came to symbolize youth, energy and innovation at work in unpretentious surrounding. We

Physical space

are a far cry from IBM, or “Big Blue”, where formal structure and stiff corporate dress codes were more of the order of the day. Staff at Apple no longer work in garages, but the Apple culture still exhibits a culture different from, for example, that of IBM. As far as I know, the first IBM computer was not built in a garage. The Apple/Hewlett Packard example is a possible indication of influence of early physical space revived as a cathedral. Physical space is unique in the role it plays over time because it is the only visual manifestation of what has happened before, and it is therefore uniquely strong as a generator of the meaning of the past. One aspect that differentiates organization in one place from organization in another place is how history is manifest in physical space at present. It is important, however, not to assume that physical space remains in the same form over time, and that we consequently can understand its impact from identifying recognizable regularities over time. The history of organization is much too subtle to justify such an assumption. Rather than exhibiting continuation, physical space may produce its antithesis. What has been, for example, an institution with a solid bureaucracy, may over time turn into a loosely coupled and close to organic entity. This does not mean that the physical space of the past has played no role; on the contrary, it may precisely serve as a basis from which a looser system is created.

Physical space and the question of reproduction The main characteristic of physical space is that it consists of material objects created with the intentions to bind actions and interactions over time and space. Physical space is thus seen as consisting of essentially “dead” objects — it forms essentially a dead shell. This means that it cannot, a priori, reproduce itself, except when it attains the status of a symbol. Most physical spaces, however, do not exhibit sufficient symbolic power to allow them to reproduce themselves. A budget, for example, cannot reproduce itself without help. Help for reproduction is provided by the actions that are defined by the budget. Bakken and Hernes formulate it thus: Whether we speak of budgets or other means of binding activity in time-space, it is nearly inconceivable that organization can exist without any such binding. Organization presupposes interaction around some defined task and provides essential stabilization of expectations among those who take part in the task (Luhmann, 1995). It is equally inconceivable that structure (in this case budgets) should exist without activity. In the absence of activity there is nothing to inform the budget, hence budget as a structure would not be able to reproduce itself. (Bakken and Hernes, 2003b: 67–68).

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Thus, it is the actions that are shaped by the budget that reproduce it. Because actions are framed by the budget, they will shape a new budget in turn. Furthermore, because actions were framed by the budget the changes made to the budget will normally be incremental. It is almost inconceivable that actions shaped by a budget will lead to a radically different budget, the reason being that actions shape cognition and, because actions took place within the previous budget, the cognition will be shaped by it as well. This being said, whereas a budget is reproduced, it also allows for changes to be made. Correlation between past actions and the corresponding budget allow for learning, which again allows for changes to be made. It is the tangibility of physical space such as budgets that allows for learning to take place. This is consistent with Lewin, who suggests that: In a field that lacks objective standards of achievement, no learning can take place. If we cannot judge whether an action has led forward or backward, if we have no criteria for evaluating the relation between effort and achievement, there is nothing to prevent us from coming to the wrong conclusions and encouraging the wrong work habits. (Lewin, 1952: 463)

It is difficult to speak of reproduction of physical space without including the idea of symbolism. As mentioned above, physical space constitutes a material manifestation of past successes and failures, whether it refers to formal structure, buildings, routines, rules or any other form of physical space. Symbolism provides meaning that connects (or disconnects) different forms of physical space over time primarily because it fuels the power of association. Because a physical space means something beyond its instrumental use, it may be reproduced. As long as it symbolizes something positive, it will be reproduced, although not necessarily in the same way. Bureaucracy may be reproduced through hierarchical ordering of activities, although it may be given another name. Symbolism may also be used to avoid that undesired practices are reproduced. Physical manifestations, such as prisoner of war camps or extermination camps (horrific examples of instrumental organization) from the second world war are kept intact to maintain associations with the atrocities that mankind is capable of.

Physical space and the question of the subject In the study of organizations, the principal architect of physical space is inevitably the manager, or management. Physical space is relatively easy to construct, for several reasons. First, it is tangible, with the advantage (which sometimes becomes a disadvantage) that it can be visualized. Fresh and eager managers are sometimes keen to make their imprint by imposing physical structure that is visible, and thus

Physical space

serves to herald that a new era is in the making. Second, erecting physical space can be done without much resistance. For one reason, it is created with the means that are directly under the control of managers. Another reason is that physical space is not necessarily threatening to staff. Third, physical space can be calculated. It involves cost that can be assessed, and therefore it can be compared to whatever changes ensue from it. Management can influence physical space and staff can generally do little to influence it. As subjects most of us are not architects of physical space, at least not for long periods of time. Nevertheless, we take part in its reproduction through our actions and behaviour; in Weick’s words, we enact the space. The view that we take part in its reproduction ties in with Giddens’s structurationist theory view of the actor as well. As a business school professor, I spend some time (fortunately little of it) on administrative matters, such as reporting and budgeting, and I am keenly aware every time I engage in such activities I am reproducing a system.

Summing up We have reviewed the development of physical space in organization theory, drawing lines from ancient peasant organization through Weberian bureaucracy to modern electronic space. Physical space, it is argued, is basically a non-human mechanism created by humans to bind activity over time and space. Among its characteristics is tangibility, and it may be instrumental as well as symbolic. We have discussed physical space in relation to the four questions related to emergence, reproduction, history and time and the subject. Emergence of physical space is facilitated by the need to obtain order. Physical space inscribes itself in the presence by its symbolic features. Its reproduction is done through the actions enabled by the physical space, such as in the case of budgets. The question of the subject is central in relation to the role of leaders and their ability to influence the development of physical space.

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Chapter 7

Mental space Organization by thought

Die grenzen meiner sprache sind die grenzen meiner welt (Ludwig Wittgenstein)

Mental space consists of a body of thought forming a reasonably coherent whole that in turn provides a basis for social action. The past decades have witnessed a proliferation of ways to analyse the mental aspects of organization. Perspectives, going from Simon’s early work on decision-making to Weick’s work on sensemaking, show different ways of relating to organization. It is possible to view several of these perspectives as different ways of describing mental space.

A tenet of influential social thinkers is that social action is not possible without some shared understanding. “Social action”, however, may be subject to different interpretations. The classical view of organizations is that inside them, social action is coordinated towards some aim. Organization in a broader sense of the word, would allow for less consensual interpretations. A crowd in a pub, for example, consists of people doing more or less the same thing but they are not doing it towards a common aim. On the other hand, I probably could not enjoy myself in the pub without having some common cognitive basis with others in there. I would not be able to order anything, nor could I understand the reactions of others, such as whether they are well disposed towards me or not. Still, I could presumably sit there and watch others go about their business. But matters could get worse. For the time being, we form a group where we coexist rather than work towards a common aim. As long as lights are on, the taps open and nobody behaves outrageously we are doing just fine. Now, consider that a fire breaks out and the main door is jammed. We then become a social system with a high degree of interdependency and in need of coordination, if we are to get out safely. The jammed door forces us to communicate with one another if we are to get out safely because, if everyone follows their own intuition and throws himself at the door, we risk no one getting out. There is no way that we can get out safely unless there is sufficient shared understanding of what the problem is and the means that could appropri-

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ately be employed in order to open the door. In the first instance, we communicate sufficiently to allow each other to have a good time in the pub, whereas in the latter instance we require a different level of communication and shared understanding. Organization constitutes both meaning for common action and meaning for doing the same thing. It is true that organized people may work towards a common aim, which may be at the level of the group or the organization. However, people also happen to be doing the same thing (like in the pub) or they attach similar meaning to things that they do differently from one another. The latter — attaching similar meaning to what they do — is also what takes place in a mental space. Both these situations exist in relation to organization, and in addition we may assume that there are a host of intermediate levels of communication. We cannot do anything together unless there is some minimum of shared meaning allowing us to understand one another. The point is self-evident and has been made repeatedly in social science (e.g. Fleck, 1935; Luhmann, 1995). However, although shared meaning lays at the basis for joint actions, it may equally well enable resistance. Thus, it is not to be construed in the positive sense only — shared meaning also allows us to uncover lies, cheating, cover-ups and misplaced rhetoric. A classic example would be when management announces the nth reorganization with promise of immediate effects when several others have failed. Persons who have been with the company a long time are sometimes quick to point out why the new change is not going to work, thereby causing a certain degree of cynicism among the workforce. Their interpretation is possible due to some degree of shared meaning with management, such as the reference to past actions or the present situation. The shared meaning is in this case tacit, or better, contested, in the sense that what management might construe as successes or failures of the past, staff might interpret the other way round. The same would go for the causes of successes and failures. Management might, for example, blame external consultants, while staff might blame management for hiring the same consultants. What they might agree on, is the fact that the consultants were hired and what subsequently happened. As to the causes and consequences, the meanings may be diametrically opposed to one another. Thus we see that the degree and the nature of sharedness is a question that could be approached from several different angles. It is not possible, for example, to perform a causal analysis from assumptions of shared meaning. Although it is likely that two persons who share meaning of causes and consequences are more likely to work towards common aims than persons who do not, meaning is usually too multiple in nature to be dealt with causally. On the other hand, as has been pointed out above, some degree of sharedness is a prerequisite for anything collective to take place. Between these two extremes many possibilities exist. From

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being a reservoir from which people and groups may “shop” for meaning that places them within the confines of the group, shared meaning may take on a specific problem solving profile. Take, for example, Orr’s (1990) study of photocopier technicians. Their reservoir of shared meaning consists of the terms and more generalized explanations that they work from. Terms and generalized explanations may suffice to give them some mental cohesiveness, not just in the work situation, but also when they socialize. On the other hand, for specific and non-trivial problems, a more concise shared meaning is needed which necessitates meanings, but also that they perhaps witness physically in common the exact problem. The differences between these two contexts are considerable. And yet we are only in the technical domain. Groups may also need to operate from shared meaning in political contexts. The same technicians, having to stand up for their collective rights within a larger political system, would have to establish shared meanings in other areas in order to be able to act together. The idea of shared meaning can be taken even further if we bring in the notion of “ideology”, which is relevant when many people share meaning to a high degree and this meaning connects with joint actions. In conclusion, what we will consider “mental space” in the following, could potentially mean many different things. As will be shown below, various streams of thought in organization studies have tackled the mental, or cognitive, dimension of organization in different ways and at different times. There is, for example, a long distance between the conceptualization of the limited rationality in Simon’s (1976) work and the notion of learning with Argyris and Schön (1978) and between the notion of culture used by Martin (2002). The reader will immediately recognize that these three works alone represent widely different imageries of cognitive processes. For example, they differ in the handling of symbolism, in the relationship between individual and group, and in the idea of how they relate to human actions and interactions. The ways in which cognitive processes are treated thus corresponds to a range of partly disparate assumptions. A spatial representation of mental processes demands that we define its location and its boundaries. Let us begin with the location. I find it useful in this respect to draw upon Douglas’s (1986) idea of “thought worlds”, because the term “thought world” evokes immediately a spatialized image of knowledge, but without locating it at the level of individuals. Whereas several others (e.g. Fiol, 1995) have borrowed the term “thought world” from Douglas, Douglas herself derived it from work by Ludwik Fleck ([1935]1979). Fleck used the term “thought collective” (in the German original denkkollektiv), which Douglas translated into “thought world”. The location of thought worlds in relation to the individual and collective dimensions is an important question that Douglas brings up, and an underlying issue is the interaction between the cognitive and the social. Being concerned with


explaining how institutions come into being, Douglas relates the social to thought. In so doing, she draws upon Fleck’s conceptualization of cognitive spheres and social relations. Fleck distinguishes notably between “thought style”, “thought collective” and “thought community”. “Thought style” is that which sets the preconditions for cognition; it provides context and sets limits for judgements. Thought style, according to Fleck, is the “readiness for directed perception and appropriate assimilation of what has been perceived” (Fleck, [1935]1979: 142). Two observations can be made related to this definition. First, the thought style is defined through the eyes of the subject; moreover, it allows a margin for the “readiness” of the subject to take part in the thought collective. Second, Fleck includes the dimension of history, by including “assimilation of what has been perceived”. In Fleck’s work, the thought style is localized, in the sense that it is seen to vary according to the characteristics of the community and it may also vary in persistence and intensity. A second term that Fleck uses is “thought collective”. The thought collective has members who not only adhere to the thought style through their interactions but they are under the constraints of the thought style. Thought collectives, then, combine similarity of thought processes with membership. The third term used by Fleck is that of thought community. The thought community comprises the members of the thought collective, but its members are not under the sort of constraints that members of the thought collective are. The idea that there is a community that adheres to the thought style, but which is not necessarily bound by the constraint of the thought style is a useful support for the tenets of this book. An implication for organization theory is that there are communities that operate within the sphere of the organization, but whose boundaries extend beyond the organization. Besides extending beyond the organization in space, they may have a different extension in time. For example, they may exist prior to the organization, alternatively they may grow out of the organization. Take, for example, the case of Linux, the non-business firm operating in a business environment, where users create the products by networking on-line from various locations around the world. The prime “commercial enemy” of Linux is Microsoft. However, it seems that the animosity extends beyond mere market competition. According to Ljungberg (2000), the culture of Linux derives from the hacker culture. The hacker culture is, I believe, oriented at least partly against Microsoft. If we look upon the hacker culture as a mental space or a thought community (which Linux assembles into a form of thought collective), we can legitimately speculate that it may form a background to the Linux culture while extending beyond it in space and time. It is precisely this kind of question to which a spatial view not bounded by “the organization” offers some answers. Fleck’s

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differentiation between thought collective and thought community, based on differences in constraint to the prevailing thoughts, helps sort ideas proper to organizations from those belonging to groups that form the background to organizations. We will now turn towards works related to mental space in organization theory.

Mental space in early organization theory — Herbert Simon Herbert Simon ([1949]1976) represents perhaps the earliest significant contribution towards the influence of cognition in organization theory. His work was essentially a contribution towards economic organization theory, in that it pulled into question the assumption implicitly made in mainstream economic models of the individual actor being able to optimize his choices. Simon’s work focuses basically on judgement in administrative behaviour. Judgements, he shows, are made in processes where facts and values intermesh, and where the complexity is so high that we can probably never talk about complete rationality in decision-making: It is impossible for the behaviour of any single, isolated individual to reach any high degree of rationality. The number of alternatives he must explore is so great, the information he would need to evaluate them so vast that even an approximation to objective rationality is hard to conceive. Individual choice takes place in an environment of ‘givens’ — premises that are accepted by the subject as bases for his choice; and behaviour is adaptive only within the limits set by these ‘givens’. (Simon, 1976: 79)

It is these “givens” that take on a spatial form in the sense that outside them decisions are deemed ill-founded or impossible, whereas inside them a range of different decisions are possible. In a way, then, the “givens” outline the contours of mental space. Simon defined them largely in terms of, on the one hand, characteristics of the decision-maker, such as his skills, information and disposition, and on the other hand the information system of the organization. Together, these two form the overall decision premises in the organization. The approach taken by Simon is one very much based on a rational choice perspective. In his later work, carried further by James March we can see that imperfections are attributed as errors of judgement, in which he draws upon work by cognitive theorists such as Tversky and Kahnemann (1974) and Nisbet and Ross (1980). The effects of social factors, such as recurrent interactions between persons are not seen as central. Nor are symbolic factors, superstition (March and Olsen, 1975) or hypocrisy (Brunsson, 1989). The focus on decision-making, the decision-maker and administration as a proxy for organization gives the analysis strength by providing narrowness and


depth. On the other hand, if we want to understand the evolutive side of organization, decision-making may not take us very far. If it were to, it would have to be conceptualized as a basic element of organization, the way it is done by Luhmann (2000, 2003). Luhmann, as part of his autopoietic social systems theory, views decision as a unit of analysis of organization. Decisions act as events in recursive processes delineating the distinctive feature of the organization. In order for a system to exist over time, it needs to maintain itself and provide a link in time from one decision to the next. At each event (decision) a new horizon of possibilities presents itself. This horizon is influenced, but determined by, the previous decision. Whereas Simon considers the decision and the decision-maker to be instrumental to the system, Luhmann considers the decision to be a unit of the very system. The difference between these two perspectives reflects the difference between the Parsonian perspective of form and “third-pole theories” discussed in Chapter 2.

Mental space and organizational learning The learning perspective of organization has occupied a large number of writers since the late 1970s. Whereas an early forerunner was a book in systems theory entitled Design for a brain (Ashby, 1960), others translated the learning metaphor to organizational realities. Argyris and Schön (1978) conceptualized levels of learning in groups, distinguishing between single-loop and double-loop learning and tied the levels to the depth of problem-solving in groups. Argyris (1983), for example, suggests that in double-loop learning, error is diagnosed as incompatibility of governing values or as incongruity between espoused theory and theory-inuse, whereas in single-loop learning people develop will tend to be within the confines of what is acceptable. Much of the organizational learning literature has in fact been focused on various ways of describing levels of learning. Fiol and Lyles (1985) summed up a number of works and their corresponding distinctions between learning levels. Most distinctions between levels of learning tend to be drawn between problems to which there are familiar solutions on the one hand and problems to which there are unfamiliar solutions on the other hand. The former type of learning is low risk and does not normally lead to conflict. The latter type, on the other hand, embodies risk and may lead to conflict. It is not surprising that in organizations, learning tends to belong to the former. It is perfectly natural for organized systems to focus on safe and familiar solutions because this is what gave them consistency and cohesion in the first place — what made them organization. One could say that the everyday learning takes place within the “normalized” mental space as it is within the normalized mental space that problems are dealt with in efficient and predictable ways. Within this normalized mental space,

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responses to solutions are understandable in the light of previous experience. However, learning does take place outside this space, what Argyris and Schön refer to as double-loop learning. It happens, for example, that new ways of working, new structures or new products are launched that embody a great deal of uncertainty. What then happens is that we step out of the normalized mental space, in the sense that although we realize what we are undertaking, we know relatively little about its consequences. Moreover, we know even less about how we will interpret those consequences because we will be interpreting them in a space that we do not know at present. Hence, what happens under double-loop learning is that a mental space emerges of whose contours we cannot gauge. It is, at least temporarily, out of control. Performing double-loop learning implies stepping into a mental space that we do not know the contours of, or the consequences of. Organizational learning has been, and still is, in vogue as an imagery of cognitive processes linked to organization. A sizeable body of the literature on organizational learning assumes learning to be tied to individuals. Argyris (1983), for example, claims that “As we know, organizations do not reflect and reason; it is individuals acting as their agents who do so”. Argyris thus joins Weick in the action perspective whereby everything that goes on is embedded with individual agents. However, mental space can also be seen as a thought world that is not necessarily embedded with individual agents. This thought world captures individuals, but it would be going too far to assume that the mind of each individual is a microcosm of the thought world. It is not, as Douglas (1986) points out, a “mind writ large”. Conversely, although individuals take part in the thought world, they cannot readily change it, even if they all decided collectively to do it. The explanation why this does not happen may be that mental spaces aggregate through a range of media — human and non-human. Mental spaces form sediments in non-human media, such as material symbols. Hence, whereas some might be changed by will, others cannot. Tying organizational learning to individuals imposes another limitation on the learning perspective. Argyris’s work is based on groups, and his project is to find blockages that hamper learning in groups. Likewise, when organizations are considered to be learning (or not), it is implicitly assumed that organizational boundaries do not change over time. This makes sense from a theoretical viewpoint, because much of the basis of the organizational learning stream of studies emanated from studies of learning with humans (as mentioned above, Ashby’s early contribution was entitled Design for a brain). Not surprisingly, then, we have expressions such as “organizational memory”. As much as a human cannot become another human physiologically speaking — only behaviourally — nor can the composition of the organization or group be assumed to change during the learning process. Naturally, this facilitates analysis, in the sense that we can


examine the same system before and after, and thus draw conclusions about how it or they have learned. However, such a view is constraining because it locks the mental space in with the social group. Learning may take place through people, but it does not just stay (or wither away) with the same people. After, for example, an innovation takes place in a small group, it propagates through a number of stages involving other groups and individuals. It enters a chain of mental spaces and it alters them as it moves on. Alternatively, a core group takes an innovation with them and sets up a new facility in a different location, with different people, different structures and different strategies from the mother organization.

Enter the ideas of culture and norms The decision-making literature focused on the relationship between the individual and the organization. It was also focused largely on factors such as skills and access to information. In the 1970s, organization theorists began to take an increasing interest in the deeper processes of human thought structures. Inspired by works by social anthropologists, organization theorists began a process of adopting culture imagery into organization studies. The interest in culture was rapidly accelerated when management theorists (e.g. Ouchi 1980 and Peters and Waterman, 1982) began to see organizational culture as a way for American business to catch up with Japanese advances in product quality and innovation. Whereas in the business community culture became strongly embedded throughout the 1980s, organization theorists gradually began to depart in different directions in relation to the culture construct. Thus Smircich (1983), for example, in her review in Administrative Science Quarterly, outlined five different approaches to organization culture as follows: Comparative management scholars seek to chart patterns of beliefs and attitudes across countries. Researchers of corporate culture seek to delineate the ways these dimensions are interrelated and how they influence critical processes and outcomes. Cognitive organization theorists consider organizations as systems of thought, charting the understandings or rules by which organization members achieve coordinated actions. Symbolic organization theorists are concerned with deciphering the patterns of symbolic action that create and maintain a sense of organization. Organization theorists influenced by structural anthropology or psychodynamics seek to understand the ways in which organization forms and practices manifest unconscious processes, by attempting to penetrate the surface level of appearance to uncover the workings of unconscious mind. Later Meyerson and Martin (1987) and Martin (1992) added a more meta-level framework,

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suggesting that culture can be studied from three different perspectives: the integration perspective, the differentiation perspective and the fragmentation perspective. There remain, however, two central aspects that characterize the use of culture in relation to organization. First, it relates to beliefs, values or assumptions. For something to become a culture it needs to become embedded and to some extent be taken for granted. This means that culture is reproduced unconsciously by organization members, and this is why it is so difficult to change and why newcomers easily become impregnated with it (van Maanen and Schein, 1979). Moreover, it comes to represent standard responses to problematic issues. In other words, the culture, or what Douglas (1986) calls the institution, does much of the sorting for individuals. Second, it relates to organizational membership. Some culture theorists suggest that organizations are cultures (e.g. Meyerson and Martin, 1987). In other words, becoming a member of the organization means becoming a member of its culture, or vice versa. Third, culture relates to behaviour. Together, these aspects tie culture to a bounded view of organization. Because the organization is a culture in itself, it can only be distinguished from other organizations by differences in culture. Behaviour in the culture must then be particular to the organization. The mixing between membership and thinking is derived from social anthropology, where memberships are stable, as they are assumed to be tied to national, ethnic, regional or tribal groups. In the case of organization this becomes problematic. While it is unlikely that organization can exist without a corresponding mental space, if mental space is assumed to exist exclusively as part of the organization culture, we limit ourselves to a bounded view of organization. It means that we assume that if a person is socially speaking part of an organization, he or she also takes part in the mental space of the organization, and no other mental space of significance. Vice versa, it means that if the person takes part in the mental space, he or she also forms part of the organization. The consequence is that the view of organization tends towards that of a system in equilibrium, thus leaving out the factors that lead to the emergence of new developments, because new developments happen through spatial extension across organizational boundaries. We are back to a critique made by Geertz (1973:142–143) of functionalist social anthropology: when we assume that a society satisfies both affective (social) and cognitive demands of an individual, we are looking at well-integrated societies. Thus, the approach serves well the purpose of explaining the degree of integration. It does not, however, instruct us on the foundations for change. It is therefore, for some intents and purposes, useful to allow, at least for analytical purposes, for separation of the cognitive and social dimensions. Whereas Geertz made this point for social anthropology, in an older piece of work, Kroeber and Parsons made a similar point:

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In this way a second analytical distinction has taken (or is taking) shape. We suggest that it is useful to define the concept culture for more usages more narrowly than has been generally the case in the American anthropological tradition, restructuring its references to transmitted and created content and patterns of values, ideas and other symbolic-meaningful systems as factors in the shaping of human behaviour, and the artefacts produced through behaviour. On the other hand, we suggest that the term society — or more generally, social system — be used to designate the specifically relational system of interaction among individuals and collectivities. (Kroeber and Parsons, 1958: 583)

Geertz’s point is that a distinction between the social and the cognitive allows us to explain change in ways that we are not able to if no boundary is drawn between the two. The distinction, although it is useful, cannot be taken too far. Although we may at some level consider ourselves to be in a cognitive thought world rather than in a social world, at another level the distinction does not make sense. For example, the idea of identity may be part of both our thinking and our belonging. When I am against the foreign and environmental policies of President George W. Bush, for example, to what extent am I against it on the grounds of feeling European, well educated and belonging to a community of researchers whose vocation it is to be critical? To the extent that my thinking is influenced by my feeling of identity, it may sometimes be hard to draw the distinction between mental and social spaces. Still, this is largely at the individual level. It does not prevent us from working from the idea that some spaces may be predominately driven by thought and others predominately by social relations.

Sensemaking Since Karl Weick published Sensemaking in organizations in 1995, the imagery of sensemaking has been adopted by many students of organization. A brief search in the ABI/Proquest database reveals that more than 34 articles between 1999 and 2002 had the word “sensemaking” in the title, and more than 366 articles had sensemaking in the text. The popularity of the term may, apart from the persuasive writing style of Karl Weick, be due to its comprehensiveness of use in covering both cognition and action, past and present, individual and social. As a term, it allows flexibility of application as well as interpretation. Weick (2001: 11) summarizes the basic features of sensemaking thus: 1. Reality is an ongoing accomplishment: Sensemaking is about flows, a continually changing past, and variations in choice, irrevocability, and visibility that change the intensity of behavioural commitments

Mental space

2. People attempt to create order: Through social comparison, expectations, and action, flows become stabilized momentarily. 3. Sensemaking is a retrospective process: Remembering and looking back are a primary source of meaning. 4. People attempt to make situations rationally accountable: Justifications are compelling sources of meaning because they consist of socially acceptable reasons. 5. Symbolic processes are central in sensemaking: Presumptions about patterns that underlie concrete actions constrain interpretation. 6. People create and sustain images of wider reality: Maps are pragmatic images that provide temporary guides for action. 7. Images rationalize what people are doing: Images of reality derive from rationalizations of action. Weick’s use of the term “sensemaking” thus reflects in many ways the processoriented view of organization discussed in Chapter 2. The actions and the sensemaking lie with the actors, who tend to be individuals in Weick’s work. The sensemaking, however, goes on in(side) organizations. In other words, the organization is not assumed to be affected by the sensemaking in turn. The images or maps that guide people’s behaviour exist in their minds and they are modified primarily through their own experience. One gets the impression that there is on the one hand the sensemaking, which is personal, mouldable and “soft”, and on the other hand there is “the organization”, an immutable and unresponsive entity. To be sure, the imagery of sensemaking takes us further, particularly in studies of how people react and relate to one another in organized settings. On the other hand, it leaves very little between human (the individual) and “system”. In point 7 above, Weick suggests that “Images of reality derive from rationalizations of action”. Presumably these rationalizations take place in people’s minds — rationalizations which influence new actions and sensemaking in turn. Is there not a missing link here? In the process of sensemaking and actions, material as well as non-material objects or artefacts are created that influence sensemaking in turn. This is the inscription of history into organized work that adds to what rests in people’s minds. If this is ignored, it becomes difficult to understand how boundaries for sensemaking emerge and change.

Mental space and the question of emergence According to Luhmann (1995), mutual understanding comes prior to any social action. Social action rests upon the condition of some shared understanding of what is going on. Hence, a mental space emerges from mutual understanding.

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Without some mutual understanding, a mental space cannot emerge. When we say “mutual understanding” it is assumed that two people or more are physically present. It is not certain, however, that this is a sine qua non for a mental space to emerge. If we look upon mental space as a thought world we do not necessarily tie it to members. A thought world may emerge from one person or one group and it may reach out to others who experience it or witness it whose presence may not be physical, but still it is felt by those from whom it emerges. The distinction between physical and virtual presence is an important one to draw, particularly in relation to the distinction that is drawn in this book between “the organization” (a bounded view) and “organization” (an unbounded view). Theory on “organizations” is considerably influenced by the assumption of physical presence. If we take a view of “organization” as consisting of spaces interacting in time and space, on the other hand, we do not lock ourselves into the assumption of physical presence, but we search for explanations in the contexts that surround the interaction. Bourdieu formulates it in this way in his treatment of habitus: Thus when we speak of class habitus, we are insisting, against all forms of the occasionalist illusion which consists in directly relating practices to properties inscribed in the situation, that ‘interpersonal’ relations are never, except in appearance, individual-to-individual relationships and that the truth of the interaction is never entirely contained in the interaction. (Bourdieu, 1977: 81)

Mental space and the questions of history, time and reproduction Mental space cannot be reproduced without active participation of individuals, but to see spatial construction exclusively through the participation of individuals is too limited. There are two points that we can learn from Latour related to the reproduction of mental space. First, it depends on the presence of actors. Actors perform what Latour calls translation, and we may well speak of translation of space. Second, the extent of reproduction of mental space depends on factors beyond the participation of individuals. Latour’s idea of “actants” comes into play here, whereby factors are not seen to be exclusively human or non-human, but a mixture of the two. Thus, when mental space is reproduced over time, there is a mixture of non-human and human factors that serve to remind people of the existence of the space. For example, influential individuals may be seen as carriers of a space that extends over large areas. These individuals may be key resources for reproducing the space, even after they have left or they are no longer alive. An example is found among organization theorists, who embody certain ideas, not just on the basis of convincing analytical models, but also as on the basis of the qualities and traits we attach to them as academics or scientists.

Mental space

Mental space and the question of the subject A major question is how we situate the understanding that underpins social action. An advantage of thinking of mental processes in spatial terms is that we allow ourselves a “place” of locating the configuration of thought, and we are at liberty not to draw the classical line between the individual and the collective. It is commonplace in social science and not least in organization theory to think in terms of the individual versus the collective level as if this is a natural distinction. Thus, with Argyris, for example, organizations do not learn, but individuals do on their behalf. If we depart from the level of direct interaction, however, we see that learning takes place through various media. Although individuals are the principal agents, they write their experiences into some collective system, which is both human and material. This system reproduces itself in the form of stories and myths, but it may also reproduce itself through files, artefacts, products and writings. Jevnaker (2003), for example, shows in the context of industrial designers and their influence on firms’ strategies how prototypes may be important media for shaping changes in strategy. The point is that what takes place between individuals gets offset in media that exist beyond their direct communication. Put differently, mental spaces are located between the individual and the collective. Individuals and groups inscribe their reality into the spaces. Similarly, Weick argues in the case of sensemaking that it is social, but Weick’s perspective is also one of individuals interacting with other individuals. In other words, he reduces a collective phenomenon to individual actors. Such attempts at positioning processes with either the collective (whatever that is) or the individual (whatever that is) is characteristic of much social science. Moreover, it is something that is pursued in organization studies, where many writers are at pains to attach processes at levels. This is a problematic assumption. Can thought processes ever be limited to either the individual or the collective? It is useful in this respect to draw upon Norbert Elias’s conceptualization of how individuals relate to society. Elias and Dunning (1986) view society as created through social figurations. Individuals relate to one another, not through the type of binding such as that reflected in terms like membership or ties, but through figurations, which may be likened to dancing. The point relates to Elias’s aversion to separating individuals into worlds and treating them analytically as homos clausus existing through links.

Summing up Mental space — the organization by thought — has been discussed as the fundamental context for human action and interaction. Fleck’s idea of “thought collec-

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tive” and Douglas’s idea of “thought world” have been evoked and related to mental space. An argument has also been that the notion of mental space allows us to conceptualize categories for social interaction that are not bound by terms such as “culture”. In discussing mental space in organization theory, four themes have been identified; decision-making, organizational learning, organization culture and sensemaking. Mental space has been discussed in relation to the questions related to emergence, reproduction, history and time and the subject. The emergence of mental space takes place through mutual understanding, which does not necessitate the physical co-presence of persons. The reproduction of mental space takes place through what Latour refers to as “actants”, where space is created in the meeting human and non-human actors. The question of the subject brings up the relationship between the individual and the social. It is suggested that the notion of mental space should avoid the view that the individual and the collective constitute separate worlds.

Chapter 8

Social space Organization by bonding Social space consists of human bonding, which may take the form of belonging, trust, love, dependence and loyalty. Processes such as these are specificities that create and uphold the particular identity of a space, drawing the distinction between members and non-members, as well as between what is appropriate behaviour and what is not.

Probably one of the most decisive works in organization studies is what is commonly referred to as the Hawthorne experiments. These experiments have been commented upon, cited and critiqued in a vast number of articles and books since they were published in the monograph entitled “The management and the worker” (Roethlisberger and Dickson, 1939). The experiments and the writings that ensued proved to be immensely influential on managers, consultants and academics alike. Following observations of worker behaviour during the Hawthorne experiments in the 1930s, the idea of the organization as consisting of social mechanisms was pursued for several decades. The influences of physical space could no longer be seen to operate in isolation, but had to transit via a social sphere to reach the individual. Whereas the physical sphere could be governed by calculation and mechanistic rationality, the social sphere was governed by feelings and social rationality. In this social sphere operate norms, emotions, loyalty, conflict and identity that may either thwart or reinforce the effects of physical space. Numerous works have dealt with the relationship between physical space and the social sphere, such as in the form of mechanistic versus organic organization, between formal and informal organization and between the system world and the life world and between rational and natural systems. The time seemed to be right for their inferences on the power of social processes in organized systems. It is said that nothing can stop an idea whose time has come, and the 1930s witnessed a faltering faith in the omnipotency of structural solutions to organizational problems. Chester Barnard (1938) published The functions of the executive, which called for recognition of the needs among employees to collaborate spontaneously. Barnard called for a view of organizations as cooperative systems where the organization depended on the willing cooperation of members. Being an executive with the New Jersey Telephone Company, Barnard

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had a feel with social realities in organizations, and the labour conflicts amid political unrest in the 1930s accentuated the need for a revised view of management-labour relations. Thus, the Hawthorne experiments and the inferences appeared in a social environment that was ripe for more collaborative views of organization than the technical approaches from the beginning of the century. The aims of most works, running through Taylor, Weber and Fayol, had been to contain “irrational” and impulsive behaviour by use of physical space. The Hawthorne experiments showed that physical could not contain behaviour, on the contrary, physical constraints might provoke the opposite of what could be expected. The scene was set for the appreciation of the social group as an organizing force in organizations. The theorizing of social forces in organizations has occupied organization and management theorists for the better half of the twentieth century, and the framework that fuelled much of this work was the idea that there is world of physical constraints and imperatives in organizations forming an opposition to the social world. The opposition was early addressed by Durkheim as a dilemma particular to modern society. One of Durkheim’s concerns was that humans have a propensity for forming collectivities, but that the boundaries of “naturally” formed collectivities may be not at all congruent with those of the manufactured space. Early works, notably in systems theory, gave the social sphere an explicit spatial form. A number of empirical analyses were conducted to demonstrate the formation of boundaries of social groups. Miller and Rice (1967), for example, explicitly assumed the spatiality of both the physical system (task system) and the social system. Works along the lines of the Hawthorne studies carried out in Norway on worker-management relations lent focus to boundaries between managers and workers and between the social world and the system world (Thorsrud and Emery, 1970; Lysgaard, 1961). A different slant was pursued in works throughout the 1980s, in particular, applying a cultural framework to the study of organizations. Works on culture have incorporated both the organization as (one) culture and the organization consisting of multiple cultures. Common to many of the works on social mechanisms is that they lend themselves to a spatial interpretation insofar as they assume that things like norms, identity, and membership are circumscribed. Social space has been conceptualized in various forms, such as social networks, clans and communities. Each of these mechanisms takes on spatial form, as they exhibit some form of distinction enabling them to exist. Social networks exist in the space described by the strength of their links of reciprocity. Clans exist in the space of intimacy. Communities exist in the space of identity. These are labels given to social mechanisms in organization theory, and their origins can be traced to various areas of sociology, social psychology and social anthropology. Closer to the field, distinctions between networks, communities, cultures and clans are much

Social space

harder to make, and the analysis will tend to be determined more by the methods accompanying the label than by the nature of actions and interactions. The four questions suggested above related to evolution of contexts enables some questions to be asked about social space. Emergence may be construed as the formation of cultures in organization. Alternatively, social space gives rise to organization, as organized actions grow from personal relations. Whereas the former has been studied extensively in organization theory, the latter is less common. We tend to assume that organization engenders social mechanisms, but in the case of many temporary organizations, in particular, they are created from an existing social space. We can observe, for example, that projects are formed by people who have worked together on other assignments. They may have formed a dormant network that springs to life when an occasion arises. The question is touched upon, although not addressed as such, in studies of social networks of managers whose relationships influence organizational processes. Networks are interesting as a form of social space in that they may have great time-space extension, while being unobtrusive to the researcher, and sometimes to people in the organization as well. The question of history and time can greatly influence the ways in which social space evolves in organizations. For example, social space that had developed over time and in situations where individuals have shared key events or especially hard times together may, it least temporarily, become a robust space. Some types of space also develop over long time periods. For example, a feature of what is referred to as social networks is that they enable high levels of trust, in spite of the members being out of each other’s sight for long periods. Such relations require greater investment in time to develop than do relationships in which physical proximity allows for visual contact. The question of the subject relates to how the individuals interact within the social space. I have mentioned that in the case of our management school, projects cannot but be influenced by individuals, whereas departments, for example, are only moderately influenced by the presence of individual persons.

Communities and cliques: The tight bonding In the discussion of mental space above, reference is made to communities-ofpractice, such as those studied by Orr (1990). Communities-of-practice have strong professional identities, and the central aspect pointed out by Orr is their particular way of communicating over their work. This aspect apart, communities-of-practice also show up traits of social cohesion, in the sense that one becomes a member as a person and not just as a fellow professional. On the one hand, one can see them functioning as professional communities and from this angle understand their

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modes of communication. On the other hand, one could also see communities such as those studied by Orr functioning as a system of autopreservation or autopromotion in a politicized environment, when the need arises. The latter situation might well accentuate their boundaries as a social space, with its own structure of relations, standards of behaviour and criteria for inclusion and exclusion. No group is entirely apolitical in organizations, and at times personal ties become important in order to fend off threats, be they imagined or real. Under such conditions, communities-of-practice may turn into communities-of-action, and they may become somewhat representative of what others have described as clans (Ouchi 1980; Boisot, 1995) and cliques (Dalton, 1959). Ouchi, for example, suggests that certain types of organizations resemble “clans” based on reciprocity, legitimate authority and common values and beliefs, whereas Boisot views clans as non-hierarchical group of limited size transacting on the basis of shared intangible knowledge and values. An achievement of studies of communities-of-work has been to demonstrate that knowledge and competence at group level goes beyond “professional” processes and are important means of forming identity. Identity formation may be particularly intense in close-knit communities, where members are willing to sacrifice personal interests for the good of the community. Moss Kanter (1977) relates community to commitment and describes it as “a complete immersion of each individual in the interests of the whole”. In a similar vein, Ouchi (1980:136) suggests that opportunism is low in clans due to the strong sense of community. Given that there are strong links between personal commitment and social identify formation in communities (understood also as clans and cliques) in times of change communities-of-practice may also become “communities-of-interest”. In order to protect their community in the organization, members may bring influence to bear by utilizing the leverage offered by their professional competencies. In addition to being able to demand sacrifice from their members, communities exhibit deftness in collective action. This comes from their considerable ability to channel nuanced and implicit knowledge efficiently between members (Boisot, 1996). These two qualities — social cohesion and efficiency of communication — may serve to provide communities with considerable leverage in times of change, not the least as they may act smartly and discretely. Studies show how tight-knit groups may serve to thwart or to provide impetus to change efforts, sometimes in ways that remain more or less unobtrusive to most observers. This is what provides them with considerable transformative powers. Jermier et al. (1991), for example, point out that communities may in fact spread as cultures and replace the existing organization culture.

Social space

Power of networks Social networks are pervasive in organizations, and it is questioned whether they are not a prerequisite for the exercise of power (Moss Kanter, 1977). Networks help provide stability and predictability. According to Kaplan (1984: 37) a network is a reciprocating set of relationships that stabilizes the manager’s world and gives it predictability. Networks work on a person-to-person basis, where cohesion and collaboration are created through indebtedness and reliance (Powell 1990:302). This accounts for the basic thrust of analysis of networks, which is at the level of person relations. Although it is commonly assumed that networks are established to generate trade and favours (Moss Kanter, 1977), flows in networks are diverse, ranging from affective to utilitarian relationships (Tichy, Tushman and Fombrun, 1979). A number of strands may be subsumed under network research, which span intra-organizational as well as interorganizational processes. One strand considers informal networks of individuals who have stakes in several organizations, such as corporate directors (Johnson and Mintz, 1989; Palmer, 1983). A second strand consists of studies of persons who work on the boundaries of organizations, such as R&D professionals (Kreiner and Schulz, 1993), pharmacists (Savage, 1994) and pharmaceutical scientists (Amdam, 1996). Such studies show, in particular, mechanisms of cohesion in professional networks and how they operate to shelter professional interests as well as channel the diffusion of ideas. A third strand is rooted in anthropological studies and attempts to show how local ties such as kinship and friendship influence intraorganizational actions (e.g. Barnes, 1954; Boissevain, 1974). A fourth strand comprises political studies of how interest groups represented by formal organizations influence national policy processes (e.g. Perrucci and Potter, 1989). A fifth strand is intraorganizational and includes studies of how internal networks in organizations operate to protect and advance their members, such as in the case of ethnic minorities and women (Moss Kanter, 1977) or to influence specific organizational decisions (Pettigrew, 1972). These examples suggest an important characteristic of networks: that they extend in space, both across organizational functions and beyond organizational boundaries. It implies that they may influence change by implicating individuals and groups in diverse settings. A second characteristic of networks is that they operate on the principle of embeddedness, where routinization and stabilization of relations (Marsden, 1981) are created through considerable investment of time and effort. A key element of operating networks is trust, as found by Kreiner and Schulz (1993) in their study of R&D professionals. Trust makes it probable that expectations of reciprocality are met. For example, Kreiner and Schulz identified trust among their respondents as when they expected that “… entrusted knowledge would not be misused, stolen

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or leaked to third parties” (203). Considering that networks extend in space and that their members may rarely meet face to face, we expect the building of trust to take considerable efforts and to be time-consuming. The investment in effort and time is likely to account for the relative long-term stability of networks over other forms of interaction. This suggests that effects of social networks may be twofold. First, relations are long-term and (out)last several organizational change efforts. Second, networks may tend to stabilize organizational relations rather provide impetus for change. As a form of interaction, networks tend to be unobtrusive to those who are not members (also, in some cases to those who are members). Because they function primarily on a person-to-person basis as opposed to shared identity or norms (see communities below), they do not assemble their members at visible events. Their unobtrusiveness makes them unpredictable in times of change, and sometimes all the more decisive for the course of change.

Social space and the question of emergence Social space emerges through social distinction, from other groups and wider society. Social distinction is created through the emergence of identity. Identity has long been viewed by scholars as fundamental for the functioning, not only of social groups, but also for individuals. Paulsen (2003) points out that questions of identity have occupied the minds of ancient philosophers as well as sociologists and psychologists, moreover that “… identity is central to a conception of what it means to be human” (Paulsen 2003: 14). Distinction is pointed out by Luhmann (1995) as central feature of social systems. According to Luhmann there is no beginning to a social system. Instead a system emerges from the process of making distinctions between itself and the environment, between before and after. Thinking about social space in a “Luhmannian” way implies that making distinctions means selecting away those spaces that we do not wish to form. Therefore, selecting distinction is also a way of not selection many other distinctions. Being part of a social space is at the same time not being part of many other social spaces. Distinction may come about in different ways, and at the stage of emergence of a social space there is distinction of certain patterns of action and interaction. We become distinct from other groups because we interact in certain ways. Also because we act in certain ways we realize that we are different from other groups. The realization that we are different may again raise our consciousness of what we do that is different from other groups.

Social space

Social space and the question of reproduction Social space is reproduced primarily through rituals that reinforce patterns of bonding. Ritualistic behaviour is behaviour that is repeated and which refers basically to the same thing over time. Although we tend to associate rituals with formal ceremonies, rituals may be informal and sometimes unobtrusive. An informal ritual may be a Friday afternoon drink in the office to recap on what has happened during the week and what people will be doing over the weekend. An unobtrusive ritual may take place as a manner of speaking, communicating or deciding. Organizational daily discourse contains many more or less unobtrusive cues to how the social mechanism works; cues that we are unaware actually reinforce the workings of the social space. The agenda for the meetings of a management groups may be decided upon by the head of the group, who sends it out every week for the meeting on the following day. To those who form part of the group this practice may not seem like a ritual, but it may have been institutionalized as an objective fact of life, if it has gone on for a long time. However, it is a ritual in the sense that it is regularized and it reminds members of what it means to be part of the group. Identity may be fundamental to human existence, but identity does not operate alone. Rather, identity may be seen as a context that influences human action and interaction. Because identity relates to a certain order reflecting a social structure, evoking the identity also means enacting the social structure. The identity of the church is enacted through the structure of the church, mediated by the clergy. The identity of Apple computers is enacted through the Macintosh, Steve Jobs and the Apple technologists. Identity is, to use Giddens’s terminology, instantiated in encounters and actions. However, it cannot really be reproduced without being performed by the relational structure of the social space. For this reason, it is useful to see rituals as “cultural performance” as Geertz (1973) does. Rituals are strong carriers of norms, which serve to uphold social spaces over time and space. Since the environment consists of other groups, an important part of the development of norms consist of the creation of the “otherness” (Harvey, 1990); projecting characteristics onto external groups in order to preserve internal cohesion and a sense of identity. In Elias’s writings we find this in the idea of “group charisma” and “group disgrace” (Elias and Scotson, 1994), which provide social sealing as groups establish identities distinguished from other groups. Individuals become impregnated by the “we-image” (Elias, 1991) of the group or organization. The notion of norms takes on a particular meaning if we speak of the reproduction of social space. When considering norms, works in organization theory tend to focus on behavioural norms. This may be explained by the fact that people

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are considered to be inside organizations, bounded by organizational limits. Spaces, as they are seen in this book, on the other hand, are seen to transcend organizational limits, and, as repeated several times, we consider organization to be unbounded by organizational boundaries. Therefore, we may consider the notion of norms to be different from behavioural norms associated with organizations. In social spaces norms may apply to norms of allegiance, i.e. norms for how various people or groups orient their allegiance towards the rationale around which the space is created. The reproduction of the space resides not only in the rituals but also in how allegiance is practised. There is considerable difference, for example, between a social space that evolves because people interrelate in an administrative system and a social space that evolves because of a shared ideology. In the former case allegiance will exist primarily as long as there is administrative interdepence. In the latter case, the social space may last for as long as the ideology has a rationale and can be enacted.

Social space and the question of history and time Social spaces have histories, where meanings are inscribed by persons, roles and relations. Globokar observes that: The notion of defining the social bond as the result of historical movements and further identified in numerous manifestations, allows us to establish relationships between these various manifestations. Building a “meaningful puzzle” seems to be a convenient expression for describing this kind of ambition. (Globokar, 2002: 120)

Translating Globokar’s observation into social space implies that over time, a “puzzle” is developed where pieces acquire their own voices that are harmonized into a coherent picture. Again, it is useful to remind ourselves of Latour’s idea of actants, and allow for some of the pieces of the puzzle to be non-material. For example, a place of significance in the evolution of a social space will constitute a separate, active piece of the puzzle. For example, some successful American entrepreneurs have started their production in a garage, such as Hewlett Packard. The present CEO, Carly Fiorina, has recently bought back the garage where Hewlett Packard began. Hewlett Packard has been characterized as one of the more familytype cultures among large American companies. Maybe the garage can be seen as one of several pieces of the puzzle in the HP history that makes up its particular social space. Whereas one aspect of social space relates to mechanisms (events, people, things) that contribute to its construction over time, another aspect is the actual evolution of social space over time. Whereas many social spaces are formed

Social space

through direct and relatively intimate social action, as people move on and get out of touch with each other, the group they once formed sometimes takes on the characteristic of networks. Those social spaces that do not transform into networks are more likely to disappear. As mentioned above, networks tend to be unobtrusive social structures based on enduring links and reciprocity. Networks exist over relatively large time and space spans and can be reproduced without face-to-face contact. They can then spring to life at some stage and help form the basis of new social spaces. There are naturally several different possible patterns of evolution of social space, but the main point is that a social space at one point in time owes its features to several different precedents, precedents that make up its history and hence its present features.

Social space and the question of the subject Social space defines the role of the subject and what it implies in the way of allegiance to the rationale of the group. I refer purposely to the rationale of the group, seeing a group of people as a manifestation of a rationale for its existence, whether it is based on identity, a cause, common background, shared experiences or other factors. Of the three types of space (physical, mental and social space) social space is the type in which the subject is most drawn into the mechanisms of the space. A main reason is the close relationship between a social space, identity and norms of allegiance. Social space helps shape our social identity, which is essential to human existence. There is no way that a subject can reproduce a social space without implicating himself or herself. This is possible with physical space and to some degree with mental space. In the case of physical space we reproduce it by following rules, for example. In the case of mental space we reproduce it by taking part in the structures that produce meaning. For example, I reproduce the idea of organization as space by writing this book. Still, reproducing meaning can be done with more distance than reproduction of social space, social space being strongly identity-based.

Summing up Of the three types of space, social space is the one that relates closely to identity. It may be manifest in social mechanisms, such as clans, networks and communities. We have reviewed some of the literature relating to these three forms, as well as some distinguishing features of these forms. We have also discussed social space in relation to the four questions related to emergence, reproduction, history and time

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and the subject. Emergence of social space comes about from the need for distinction from other groups and organizations. Reproduction of social space is achieved largely through rituals, which may range from the formal to the informal and unobtrusive. History and time are inscribed in social space by events, persons and places. Of importance is also the various patterns of evolution over time, which is exemplified by the transition from social groups into networks. The question of the subject in relation to social space is very much a question of identity, where the enactment of identity forms a link between the person and the group.

Chapter 9

Spatial dynamics Any space will bring about a change, either in itself or in another space, because when it is formed it cannot but bring about change — it will leave traces even after it has been abolished. Spaces emerge and evolve both in time and space. The course of their evolution both is both influenced by interaction between spaces and influences interaction between spaces in turn.

To recapitulate briefly, a basic argument of the book lies in the assumption that organization is seen as unbounded in several ways. First, we assume that organization is unbounded in time: it is emergent and unfinished. This implies that we look at those processes that lead up to organization in the stable state, as well as those processes that derive from it. In so doing, we try to avoid a macro-perspective that retains us at the structural level and we would also avoid a micro-level that would oblige us to stay at the level of actions. Instead, we assume that actions lead to change in space and that change in space leads to actions in turn. Second, we assume that organization is unbounded in space: it is multiple and amorphous. This implies that we liberate ourselves from the semantic chains of “the organization” and we allow ourselves to include wider range of contexts for action and interaction. Organization in its unbounded state does not correspond to “the organization”, which is normally seen as a set of coherent mechanisms serving to distinguish it from the environment. Instead we opt for the idea of different types of space, each of which may be used to describe different aspects of organization. The three types of space — physical, social and mental — have distinctly different characteristics in the ways that they emerge, evolve and reproduce themselves. It is with the evolution of different types of space that the assumption of unboundedness becomes particularly important. With a bounded assumption, the three types of space are assumed to converge towards what we commonly refer to as “the organization”. The organization consists of structures, norms, beliefs and many other things that together underpin a stabilized system. The main implication is that we analyse processes in the light of the equilibrium we assume that they evolve towards. With the assumption of unboundedness, on the other hand, there will always be moves towards something different, both in space and time. Whatever changes take place, they occur as a result of spaces interacting. When, for example, the physical space circumscribed by rules and partitionings becomes too constraining on emergence in the mental space, a number of different changes may


occur. Changes in the physical space may be made to accommodate changes in the mental space. For example, when a company that has been commonly run along bureaucratic lines decides to gear its structure towards innovation, it may choose to set up “incubators” for intrapreneurial processes. Incubators allow stretching of mental spaces in ways that bureaucratic organization is not equipped to do, and as such they may form useful supplements to bureaucratic structure. On the other hand, expanded mental spaces also tend to excert considerable pressure on existing physical space. New and innovative ideas concern not just concern products and services. They inevitably also concern the ways in which relations are structured. Spatial dynamics refer principally to ways in which types of space interact over time and the types of effects their interactions produce. The term “spatial dynamics” per se is for the moment used in areas quite removed from organization studies. In the biological sciences it is used in the study of marine species, such as blue crab, turtles and beetles, in order to understand better how they adapt to environmental changes. An area considerably closer to organization studies is the urban studies branch of sociology. Urban studies is territorial in nature and seeks to understand how social configurations within physically defined urban areas influence things like crime, democracy, welfare and education. Urban areas are physical spaces circumscribing groups that may share ethnicity or social status. Within these physical spaces there are social groups practising certain patterns of contact that are assumed to influence factors such as crime. For example, some areas have a high density of local community groups, which normally tends to reduce crime rates. Studies tend to view groups in isolation from one another. Recent research in urban studies, however, suggests that explanations of, for example, crime, can be improved by considering interactions across spatial boundaries. Reporting from a study in Chicago, where the focus is explicitly on the dynamics of space, Morenoff, Sampson and Raudenbush (2001) conclude, for example, that although local actions and population composition make a difference to crime rates, there is also a significant influence of the spatial context of adjacent neighbourhoods. In the study referred to here, dynamics is assumed to take place as people move between space, as their attention shifts from one space to another, or as tensions arise from incongruity of spaces. In the context of organization, as we treat spatial dynamics in this book, the emphasis is on how spaces, not people in them, evolve as a result of spatial interaction. We focus on interaction between spaces rather than what happens as people move between spaces. For example, in the case of incongruence between mental spaces, we are interested in the “colliding thought worlds”, to borrow from Fiol (1995) rather than people from “different thought worlds colliding”. The latter is, of course, no less important than the former, but it is not the focus here.

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Spaces evolve over time, and a physical space, such as sets of rules or physical structure, gradually turns into mental and social spaces. Physical space channels interaction, and the form and the texture of the physical space influences the outcome of human interaction. Physical space creates particularly repeated interactions, which serve to shape the social bonds and perceptions of those interacting. Put simply, early formation of organization comes about through the formation of physical space to provide confines for mental and social spaces. Alas, effects of physical space at the mental and social levels go beyond the powers of physical space. When social space begins to form, which influences mental processes, leaders are mobilised to mediate and to keep the mental space in line with the intentions on which the emergence of the organization was based. This crude picture reflects to some extent Barnard’s idea of organization. Rationality resides in the structure (the physical space). When social relations threaten to sideline organizational objectives, managers are needed to “indoctrinate” employees. In other words, managers are seen as guardians of the mental space that the physical space is created to accommodate and nourish. Barnard published his book in 1938, but he has no doubt shaped some of the ways we think about organization. An attractive feature of his writing is that it has a touch of pragmatism (informal relations are important; they cannot and should not be suppressed); this is understandable in the light of Barnard’s background — he was a former senior executive who had climbed the ranks and knew the potential of informal organization. However, Barnard worked from the assumption that management can keep the system in a perpetual state of tension where social forces are continually harnessed towards the aim of the firm, and he overlooked the mutual dynamics of forces. The foregoing chapters have discussed how spaces evolve, using terms such as emergence, reproduction, history and time and the subject. We have concentrated on characteristics proper to each of the three types of space (physical, social and mental). Thus, in a sense we have discussed spatial dynamics, considering how each type of space interacts with itself. For example, we have discussed how physical space reproduces itself and how mental space emerges. However, one type of space cannot evolve in isolation from other types of space. If we are closed in by a physical space 24 hours a day, this definitively shapes our mental space. It makes the mental space dependent on the social space because the physical space serves to regulate the degree of social interaction that goes on. In most cases the more social contact there is, the more likely it is that the social interaction increases in intensity and frequency. This serves to shape the mental space that we work within and make it more dependent on the social and physical spaces. However, nothing is final in the world of work, and although stabilized states can be said to exist (for example, we tend to go to work every day), their very


stability cannot but trigger processes that over time lead to their destabilization. The mental space we develop may or may not stay within the confines of the physical space, but it may also transform it in turn. Weber pointed out that bureaucracy suffers when it is not sufficiently developed, because its qualities are not realized. On the other hand, he also pointed out that it suffers when it is too much developed, because it becomes stifling and omnipresent, such as was the case in the Roman empire, where according to Weber (1968: 969) this was part of the explanation of its downfall. It is therefore important to consider, for example, what leads to bureaucracy as well as what bureaucracy leads to in turn. This is what lies in the idea of emergence — a tenet of this book is that space is ever-emergent. The degree of emergence may range from the dramatic to the unnoticeable, from the global to the local, but the idea of emergence underlines the assumption that no order starts from nothing or simply by itself, nor can it terminate unless there is a transformation into something else. This “something else” may be less significant in the sense of being less visible. Nevertheless, the transition of a space is still an important object of study, because it reveals dynamics by which orders transform, either as emergent or as fading away.

Spatial dynamics in time A basic tenet is that the formation of space marks the transition from something that is not to something that is. This means that the formation of a space lays the basis for processes that arise from the space. In other words, if the space was not formed, they would not have taken place. Once formed, a space cannot be unformed; it can be demolished in its present form, but it is impossible to act as if it did not exist. This is the principle of historicity, and it is inspired by Luhmann’s (1995) view of process. Process, according to Luhmann, consists of strings of events over time that, once they have taken place, cannot be undone. Processes, according to Luhmann, are therefore irreversible. They leave their imprints on the evolution of the system, whether central persons wish to purposely ignore them or not. For example, overspending the budget is an event that cannot be undone. Repairs may be attempted, but the fact that it has taken place cannot be changed (Bakken and Hernes 2003b). Space formation is both indispensable and uncontrollable in its consequences. A group of friends that decide to launch a business together are obliged to establish social spaces for trust, mental spaces for what is important to prioritize and physical spaces for production; spaces that cannot but evolve and interact as time goes by. Therefore, space formation will inevitably trigger processes that could not be planned, nor can they be controlled. For example, it is difficult for our group of


friends to avoid the logic of budgeting as a means of framing activity. Budgets provide essentially a physical space for activity in the sense that they provide outer limits for the resources that are to be expended for the accomplishment of identified tasks or programmes. Whereas budgeting may be seen as an activity of programming, in other words a purely instrumental activity, the creation of this physical space sets off the formation of other types of spaces. For example, it may send clear signals about what should be prioritized and what should not be prioritized in the terms of work as it may lead to the closing down of one programme and the expansion of another. In direct terms the budget, if it deviates significantly from the previous one, creates mental spaces that are different from those from the previous budgeting period, as different work activities and corresponding relations are given prominence. The changes in mental space caused by the new budget sets off processes that again lead to changes in the next budget. To some readers this may seem a mechanistic assumption. The critical reader may well object that the formation of new space cannot be expected to lead to new practices, and that there will be inertia, partly in the form of delays in cognitive reorientation, partly due to resistance. Indeed, studies of reform and change (e.g. Brunsson and Olsen, 1989) show that although new systems and rules are put into place in order to change behaviour, the expectedi changes in behaviour may not materialize. Still, changes are brought about when new spaces are created, although the type and the extent of the changes may be uncertain. In extreme cases, there may even by overt resistance and conflict, i.e. the intended change may backfire and produce the opposite effects of what was anticipated, such as Gouldner (1954) describes in the case of a strike at a gypsum plant. Gouldner’s book serves as an appropriate illustration of how social and physical spaces may exist side by side but also work against one another. The gypsum plant was established in an area of towns where people had settled a century before and where the men had led a semi-rural life of farming, hunting and fishing (Perrow, 1986). With the arrival of the plant, many of them became employees of the plant. Under a lenient management the boundaries between their private life and their work at the plant became increasingly blurred, to the extent that the productivity at the plant suffered. For example, fewer showed up during the hunting and planting seasons, and they were able to use certain materials and tools belonging to the plant for their private use. The practices were in some ways the antithesis to Weberian bureaucracy, which is based on the separation between work life and private life. When the plant manager died, a new manager arrived, who imposed a Weberian-style bureaucracy, including elements such as recordkeeping, imposition of productivity standards, reinforcement of rules and the elimination of extra-organizational prerogatives. The preceding situation at the plant had been one with a tight social space — most of the workers knew each


other from childhood. This social space was well integrated with a flexible physical space. With the introduction of Weberian-style bureaucracy, a new physical space was imposed which was not at all adapted to the existing social space. The existing social space had allowed, for example, workers to take home dynamite from the mine for their own use with the approval of the management, with the attitude that “everyone does it” (Perrow 1986: 3). The result of the imposition of a Weberianstyle bureaucracy was a wildcat strike, which led to further degeneration of activity. Spatial dynamics in time signifies dynamics principally caused by the formation of a space. This is similar to what Selznick (1957) describes in his classic book Leadership in administration, where Selznick wrote one of the perhaps most quoted passages in management and organization theory, that as instrumental organization persists over time, it becomes “infused with value” (Selznick 1957: 15). What Selznick describes is how organization is created to deal with tasks. However, over time, what is seen as a task organization takes on value in itself, and what were (are) repetitive tasks may become ritualistic rather than just purely instrumental. As they become ritualistic they become unique and proper to the organization in question. They get to be seen as unique to the organization, not only by insiders but also by outsiders. This is when they take on qualities of an institution; when they take on values that go beyond their purely functional purposes. We may interpret Selznick’s model in terms of space. The instrumental organization in Selznick’s work consists very much of physical space, in the sense of being formal arrangements made to coordinate actions towards some goal. We may infer an implicit assumption of emergence of shared ideas attached to the instrumental organization, which becomes a mental space consisting of meaning attached to the operations of the organization. With a transformation towards an institution, certain activities take on meaning that tie people and units together. As the social glue develops, the organization as a social space takes hold. For this reason, attempts at change that threaten the social space are resisted. Selznick points out that there is resistance to change that threatens rewarding ties. Selznick’s (1957) remark on infusion of value is instructive. It is theoretically inspiring and it says something empirical about evolution of organization that strikes chords with what we observe in everyday life. Most places of work have practices that take on ritualistic qualities with time. Selznick’s version is one where the task system becomes a social system and eventually a mental system as things come to be taken for granted. This direction of analysis is not surprising from an institutional theory perspective. Institutional theory has traditionally focused on how institutions come into being and subsequently how they are maintained. Their analysis therefore tends towards the institution as a finality. An interesting question is: what happens to the institution in turn? It is unlikely that it regresses into the instrumental organization that, according to Selznick, led to it in the first place.

Spatial dynamics

Unless the institution is outdated and has completely lost its raison d’être in economic and social terms, like that which is described by Meyer and Zucker (1989) in their study of “permanently failing organizations”, it is likely to generate new processes. In spatial terms, an institution is assumed to have developed a relatively tight set of mental spaces that intermesh in such a way that they do much of the sorting of categories for those affected by it (Douglas, 1986). When the organization is seen as an institution, the condensed sets of beliefs tend correspond to the social space circumscribed by the organization. As someone employed by the postal services, for example, I am not just part of a larger mental space in which ideas prevail of what the postal services represent to society, which includes both the historicity of the services and maybe the current challenges that they face. I feel also socially part of the postal services, as my identity and the identity of the services intermesh, at least in the context of work. Social ties would manifest themselves in the case where, for example, I would stand up for colleagues who might be threatened with being laid off in the face of rationalizations undertaken to compete with private sector firms (this is currently the case in some countries, notably France). Finally, in the case of institutionalized organizations, the physical spaces tend to be harmonized with the mental and social spaces. Buildings and vehicles serve to reinforce a common identity, to which correspond, to some extent, the system of roles and rules for separation and integration of tasks and people. If it were possible to freeze processes, an institution might stay that way. However, mental, social and physical spaces are reservoirs from which processes emerge and take their own course. Therefore, as new combinations are made through personal contact, institutional arrangements are prone to erosion. In the case of extreme tightness of one space, such as with a rigid physical space, a closed social space or a mental space based on almost fanatic beliefs, institutions change little over time. An example might be that of the Freemasons, who have kept the same rituals and who have resisted pressures from the outside over several centuries. However, most institutions are “normal” institutions, in the sense that the boundaries of their spaces are movable. For example, the physical space may expand to include internet, which inevitably opens up contact between individuals across organizational boundaries. As people come into contact with other mental spaces, this may be consequential as more people may begin to question aspects of the institutional arrangements. This is precisely a point made by Greenwood and Hinings (1995), who ask if members who cross the organizational boundary and come into contact with new ideas and possibilities are not more likely to question existing organizational arrangements. In most cases, internal forces of change cannot be seen in isolation from external change. It is impossible that institutions stay in this state without leading

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to change that in some way or other affects its relations with other organizations or institutions. Assuming that the institution is viable commercially or politically, the fact that it is institutionalized through mutual reinforcement of spaces makes it a compact composite space compared to other organizations. This sometimes has implications for its ability to attract funding or human resources or to otherwise forge links with or engage with other organizations. As will be suggested below, compact and sizeable space tend to work as attractors for other spaces. Somewhat ironically, then, a compact institution, in the sense that physical, mental and social spaces are harmonized, might lend itself to internal change because it is attractive to outside interests. We will now look at two different modes of spatial dynamics over time. One mode of dynamics is what I call substitution. Substitution takes place as one type of space takes over from another. I have discussed Selznick’s work above, which appropriately described the transition from instrumental to institutionalized organization. A second mode is referred to as grafting, by which a space serves as underpinning for other spaces. It goes without saying that these terms are crude and that they serve as coarse and approximate maps of a complex terrain.

Substitution It seems to lie in the nature of things that as a mode of organization becomes insufficient, it is replaced by another mode. New institutionalists point to the needs to retain legitimacy and suggest that new modes of organization are adopted so that managers feel that they are with the times. Underlying this line of thinking is the idea that management is more fashion than craft. The instrumental versus fashion debate apart, there are modes of organization that manifest themselves as inadequate, not because they are outdated but because they no longer suffice to act as adequate mechanisms of coordination. Additional modes of coordination are then included as the rationale of organizational change. For an innovation to become a business, for example, a social space is required in which enthusiasm, trust, mutual support and cohesion work to enable the ups and downs of the early start-up phase to be coped with. As the innovation becomes a product, sales, marketing and production organization are needed, and direct coordination between these is difficult to achieve when the number of people grows beyond a certain size. At this point techniques, models and methods take over some of the processes that were handled through direct social interaction. The original shared spirit of entrepreneurship and folly that characterized the early stages may still stay with the original group of founders, but as for most other people in the organization, the mental space may be considerably more tempered and detached. The evolution towards a physical space of coordination and regulation

Spatial dynamics

seems inevitable, and most stories about organizational evolution end here, at least when they relate the processes of developing from product into organization. From here, studies of organizations (in the bounded sense) take over and illuminate aspects of the hassles of formal organization of overbureaucratization: power, segregation and many other things. What was once necessity in an evolutionary sense, slowly becomes a problem. Some decades ago, things may have stayed more or less this way. General Motors, for example, created a huge apparatus of controllers to make sure that units and people performed according to expectations. Alternatively, consultants may be brought in to solve all kinds of problems linked to the machinery of the physical space, and the social and mental patterns that have derived from it. There are a variety of techniques that have been tried over the years to “fix” organizations, ranging from trimming down and streamlining the formal organization to improving morale through social and human approaches. Instead of trying to invigorate an evolved system, there are now at least three approaches open to management. First, to move the organization physically, such as by setting up production facilities in new locations, with new personnel. This measure, which is reportedly made by General Motors, is aimed towards the creation of new social, mental and physical spaces in which, for example, technological change and different measures of productivity can be achieved more easily. In this case, we are not talking about organization development, but organization (re)creation. It is a way of rebuilding spaces while eliminating the historicity of past spaces, at least for as long as there is no tangible past. Another approach is aimed more specifically at circumventing the problem of innovation caused by larger routine-oriented organization, and consists of investing in new space, such as in business or technology parks, where conditions are propitious for innovation. In this case, a company may not spend resources trying to become more innovation-oriented in their existing sets of spaces, but “simply” tap into innovation processes elsewhere. It is a measure used by, for example, pharmaceutical companies in the Stockholm Uppsala region in Sweden (Waluszewski and Wedin, 2001). A space, such as a science and technology park, contains a mental space geared towards risk taking and innovation that is difficult to create inside existing organization. Apart from a few companies, such as 3M, an innovative organizational climate is the exception rather than the rule. This is perfectly normal, because innovation is in many ways the antithesis to organization. Organization consists of a coherent set of physical spaces created more or less intentionally to stabilize activity according around some core purposes, hence the degree of innovation is limited by the need for stability. A third approach is that of “outsourcing”, which consists of reducing the core of the organization to those people who are necessary to keep its core mission afloat.

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The technologies and knowledge pertaining specifically to its mission are kept on and everything else is contracted out to specialized organizations. This helps ensure that a small social and mental space is kept which is malleable, whereas the larger network of standardized operations is contract-based, making the overall system more flexible. These three examples are taken from the world of corporate decisions, and the spatial developments are seen as strategic decisions made by management. This is not always the case, and there are examples where groups have broken away to set up new organizations against the wishes of management. Norsk Data, for example, a Norwegian computer and software manufacturer, which enjoyed an immense success in the 1980s, was created by a group of four researchers who broke out of Norwegian research institutions. They set up a company that fostered a culture of enthusiasm, innovation and customer orientation, which in 1985–86 was the third most profitable computer company in the world (Steine, 1992). The culture they fostered in Norsk Data was in some ways the antithesis to that which they had been part of in their research institutions. The organizational structuring (or, rather the lack of it) was radically different, too. Whereas the institutions they came from were structured along traditional principles, Norsk Data was admired precisely for its lack of detailed formal structure and its ability to perform organic structuring. In this case, it would seem that new spaces were created as contrasts to existing ones. The story of Norsk Data is relatively short, as the company, created in 1976, went virtually out of business in 1991, largely due to its failure to adapt successfully to the standard UNIX platform. It is interesting to note that as the company began to subside, the previously pervasive spirit of optimism and relentless innovation began to dwindle. Management was obviously aware that in the lack of an efficient formal structure, the company spirit, or the “mental space” was necessary for staying afloat. While striving to keep the mental space alive through intensive publicity efforts, there were attempts to shore it up through the introduction of standards and rules. The latter measure is particularly interesting, as it suggests attempting to compensate for a subsiding mental space the tightening of the physical space. The end of the story of Norsk Data is organizational death — again in the bounded sense — because people and ideas of continued in other contexts, under other company names, to reconstruct new spaces. Examples such as these show that if we leave the possibility open of organization as an unbounded system over time and space, we can more readily understand how, when it reaches an evolved organizational state, it may lead to new developments. In the case of Norsk Data, there is a historicity to the story that precedes the setting up of the company that helps explain how it evolved. As the company began to subside, new spaces were created on the ruins of the giant. This takes us to the next mode, which I refer to as grafting.

Spatial dynamics

Grafting Smircich (1983) made an important observation about organizational culture when she suggested that organizational culture can be seen in three different ways. It can be seen as a root factor, as an organizational variable or as a metaphor for conceptualizing organization. We can extend her argument and say that culture may form a background to the formation of organization. This culture may again be reflected in the organization formed. For example, the setting up of companies in a geographical region, which is traditionally craft-based, is likely to be embedded in the craft culture in the region. The craft culture may again influence cultural properties of firms. Translated into space formation, we may say that physical spaces (instrumental organization) are grafted on to existing mental and social spaces. It occurs that a space serves as foundation for another space, and the spaces connect to form a new configuration. The operation may be in form of a “takeover”, such as when a company takes over a group of persons who may be “left over” from the bankruptcy of another company. In this case, the basic configuration is a combination of mental and social space that represents a potential for activity in a certain domain. An existing space of ideas and resources grafts onto a compatible set of existing (local) spaces. This happens when, for example, local craft traditions and social networks are embedded in the local community and act as “receptors” to outside activity. It is a particularly relevant situation as and when companies relocate to locations with the aim of being able to continue production at similar or better levels of efficiency, but at lower cost. Grafting may be seen when a larger space “decides to settle” on a localized one, but grafting may also be seen to take place in a bottom-up way. As entrepreneurs, for example, develop their enterprise, they search for schemes in the way of technology, structure or thought worlds that enable them to develop further their ideas and activities. Similarly, in-house in companies, ideas represented by groups of people surface and are picked up and integrated by the larger system, something that may develop into new lines of services, products or policies. Grafting can only with difficulty take place upon a mental space alone, and depends probably on a configuration of social and mental spaces, i.e. when a group of people is seen as a carrier or a vehicle of the mental space. Note that this is different from reducing individuals to carriers of meaning. We do not reduce the mental space to the individual level, but assume that the mental space is produced by people rather than being carried by them. This means that the mental space can be stepped into or out of — it remains and changes whether some people leave it or not (although not entirely independently of who enters or leaves). The idea of configuration of mental and social spaces draws inspiration from the work of Latour, and notably the idea of “actants”. As mentioned above, Latour collapses the human-material

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divide through the use of “actants”. Composites of mental and social space act as actants and may function as receptors to outside solutions. In the case of grafting as a mode of spatial dynamics, it illustrates how spaces work not only inwards, but also outwards.

Spatial interaction in space As spaces reproduce themselves in space, they interact with other spaces. This interaction is utterly complex and difficult to visualize and we are reduced to describing it with simple imageries that are certainly incomplete. The difficulty lies particularly in describing how reasonably identifiable spaces may interact and produce something that is different from both of them. Drawing upon Whitehead ([1929]1978), Latour refers to “occasions” to describe contact between entities, …occasions given to different entities to enter into contact. These occasions for interaction allow the entities to modify their definitions over the course of an event … (Latour, 1999a: 141)

If we borrow from Latour the use of occasions, we can see configurations of mental and social space as human/non-human composites that interact with other configurations. The result is in most cases a configuration that is different from both configurations. Different types of space interact, and their interaction may be conceptualized as taking different forms. It is possible, for example, to conceptualize one type of space being integrated into another type and to be turned into something different. Bourdieu and Passeron (1977), for example, illustrate the example of how a type of space transforms into another one in their study of the French educational system. They argue essentially that pedagogical ideals over time become translated into a system of social power. The pedagogical ideals, according to Bourdieu and Passeron, contain the seeds of power and status differentiation. The system reinforces them, they become subsequently socially validated and “reenter” society as a “fact”. The transformation is subtle, since what is seen as a pure pedagogical thought world also becomes a social world with its norms of interaction. In this case, the social space of power that is created reinforces and at the same time “perverts” the mental space of pedagogical thought by turning it into something that it was not intended to. The question is whether we can visualize the attraction effects between spaces that interact in space.

Spatial dynamics

Attraction effects: Aesthetics Aesthetics is a field of study by itself. Harvey suggests that: There is much to be learned from aesthetic theory about how different forms of spatialization inhibit or facilitate processes of social change. Conversely, there is much to be learned from social theory explaining the flux and change with which aesthetic theory has to cope. (Harvey, 1990: 207)

An aspect to study further is the aesthetics of space and effects it might have. An aesthetic space is not just an attracted space to be in, but it is also a space that attracts from the outside, as pointed out elsewhere in this book. Its importance can be seen in the decoration of office spaces where colours and shapes are studied especially to be appealing to employees. Aesthetics goes in hand with symbolism. Boardrooms, for example, are equipped with thick solid and polished wooden tables to signify that they are rooms of power. But aesthetics may equally well apply to mental space and social spaces. When the neophyte enters Accenture, is he or she not influenced by the ads with the youngish consultants who have just the right aggressive, successful and good looks? Is this not a social space that he or she wants to become part of? But mental spaces also have their aesthetic sides. The beauty of ideas, words and imageries is exploited, for example, in the formulation of some company visions. I know of a hospital in the North of Norway that uses a flying penguin as its emblem to illustrate to everyone that the impossible is possible. Some might pull the visual aesthetics of it into question, but it is at least an exciting way of conveying a vision. The aesthetics of organizational space is a study in itself. Whereas Gagliardi’s (1990) book treats important aspects of physical space, there is work to be done on the aesthetics of social and mental spaces. Spaces would normally be seen as acting inwards and in this way shaping behaviour. It is less common to see them as acting outwards. Spaces are not just spheres that encapsulate activity, but they are also spheres of activity that act outwards and attract attention and activity in various ways. Powell et al. (2002), in their study of the formation of networks in the biotechnology field, note that for certain fields, the attractiveness of companies was important. The name of the game is to be connected, not just in order to stay abreast on the scientific front, but also to be seen as being connected. They note on the basis of an earlier study (Powell, Kogut and Smith-Doerr, 1996) that connectedness counts, and that disconnectedness is a liability. The two-way process of working attractiveness is shown in the following sentence: Biotech firms had to both ‘make news and be in on the news’, that is, they needed to generate novel contributions to the evolving science as well as have the capacity to evaluate what other organizations were doing. (Powell, Kogut and Smith-Doerr, 2002: 5)

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Attraction effects are visible in other corners of organization studies as well. A large body of theory and empirical studies has been spun around new institutionalism and organizations’ need for organizational/institutional legitimacy. A central idea is that managers tend to be drawn towards recipes and models for organizing that are “legitimized”, normally by organizations that function as “centres of authority”. These organizations may command authority on the basis of expertise, such as consultancy firms. They may also be regarded as authoritative on the basis of general admiration stemming from commercial or technological success. Although it is fairly easy to see that recipes of organization spread — many can be recognized by their names — it is much harder to conceptualize how the processes of generation take place. There seem to be two schools that dominate this field at present. One line of thought draws inspiration from the idea that ideas travel throughout organizational fields (Røvik, 1996), whereas another, drawing upon work by Latour (1987) is oriented towards a perspective of models of organizing generating through processes of translation. Whereas it seems common to draw a line between the need for instrumental efficiency on the one hand and institutional legitimacy on the other hand, this is for most intents and purposes a false distinction. Close to the field of managerial practice, the two types of needs may quickly become two sides of the same coin — we may be able to see that they are two sides of a reality, but their aims becoming one of the same. What seems obvious, however, is that there is a space of models that is attractive, and that firms may apply models towards instrumental means while being associated with the greater space of models. Therefore, it would make sense to study the space of models and to investigate the traits that form the outer limits of this space. The mental space surrounding a number of models in past years has been dominated by ideas related to rationalization of work processes based on models of measurement and social distance — a considerably colder set of ideas than the ideas of culture and lifelong employment that emerged in the first part of the 1980s. This can be seen as a “mental space” that evolves over time and that in a given period there is some coherence between the models contained in the space. In this sense it may not be of particular importance whether an organization adopts one model or the other. What could be of interest is the factors that contribute towards the emergence and reproduction of the space — and not just the individual models.

Attraction effects: Intensity The outwards attraction of space may be aesthetic, but aesthetics is not the only way. Attraction may work because of size and intensity of a space. While walking


in the city centre on a Saturday morning there are some gatherings of people that make us stop, whereas others do not. A large crowd of people expressing excitement or curiosity over some source of entertainment hidden from our eyes, for example, are more likely to make us stop than smaller groups watching something passively. This outward attraction applies to organizations, as well. Marketing and publicity professionals are much aware of it, as they help to produce this effect in marketing campaigns. In fields of organizations, for example, some writers work from the assumption that leading firms are important in order to generate sectoral economic activity. In their study of the Italian motorcycle industry, Lipparini, Lorenzoni and Zollo (2001) show how leading firms are instrumental in formulating strategies to which adhere smaller firms in the network. Leading firms generate rules for the network and they apply their relational capabilities to bring together different sources of innovation. Based on their paper, Lipparini, Lorenzoni and Zollo (2001: 17) develop a proposition that “the effectiveness of the lead firm will be a function of the relational quality it develops over time in dealing with its various partners”. Relational qualities depend on size, as size enables greater visibility and a greater point of contact with other spaces. It may also be seen to relate to intensity of the space, as intensity signifies mental activity, which again attracts attention and desire to be part of the space. A set of core ideas, products or methods that surrounds a cluster or network of companies may act as mental space of some intensity. The point made here is that the intensity of such a space works as attraction for activities. An implication is that commercial actors such as investors and companies arrive with new spaces of a social and physical nature. These “new” spaces blend with or into the existing mental space and contribute towards its modification over time. The greater the intensity of the space the more probable is the arrival of actors and, maybe paradoxically, the probable transformation of the original space.

Summing up We have conceptualized possible interactions between spaces in time and in space. In time, spaces interact through what has been termed “substitution” and “grafting”. Spaces interact also in space, and concentrating on attraction effects the terms used for conceptualization are “aesthetics” and “intensity”.

Chapter 10

Putting space into perspective The basic argument of this book is that once we step out of mainstream organization theory and consider the use of “organization” in the unbounded sense, we may feel free to conceptualize contexts of action and interaction that transcend traditional ideas of organization. The concept of space has been developed, which is a concept thought to explain processes and mechanisms forming around, prior to, as a consequence of, or sometimes independently of, organizations. A question is how and where limits of uncertainty and applicability are drawn around the perspective offered in the present book. Some tentative answers are suggested.

The strength of vagueness The distinction between social, physical and mental space may seem reductionist. The notion of social space alone, for example, embodies loyalty identity, trust and many others, and each of these and several other descriptors of social mechanisms have been amply analysed, both theoretically and empirically, over the last decades. They are therefore more precise in contents than the notion of space. The researcher who looks for terminological precision and refined categories of phenomena is therefore well advised to turn elsewhere for inspiration. The issue in organization research is not, however, always about precision. Study of social life almost inevitably becomes a trade-off between precision (and corresponding depth) and evolution (and corresponding width). Precision allows for understanding of the things in itself, to borrow from Kant. When, for example, we refer to a space as a “culture”, we improve precision by reducing it to specific notions. A culture is in many ways a sacralized space that contains ideas, beliefs and norms that those who are in it care very much about. The sacral dimension of culture becomes reinforced through rituals, stories and various kinds of artefacts, which serve in effect to programme those who are involved. This is partly why Douglas (1986) insists that institutions do the sorting of categories for people. In fact, they are so programmed with the ideas, beliefs and norms that they mostly do not know either what they care so much about or that they care so much about it. Douglas is succinct on this point:


Institutions systematically direct individual memory and channel our perceptions into forms compatible with the relations they authorize. They fix processes that are essentially dynamic, they hide their influence, and they arouse our emotions to a standardized pitch on standardized issues. (Douglas, 1986: 92) (italics added)

By implication, a culture becomes more than an intense space. Because it is sacral, it ties thoughts to group identity. Precision, then, assumes stability of relations. Evolution, on the other hand, assumes that whatever we are studying is in some form of transition. It grows out of one state and it leads to another state. Culture, for example, would be one possible evolution, and if something that we could refer to as culture were to evolve, we would study what other contexts the culture would create. Therefore, from an evolution perspective, we would not look for culture a priori, but we would rather look for processes that might or might not lead to culture formation. The distinction between social space and mental space is useful in the sense that people do not necessarily enter a social space at first. It is just as plausible that they become socially assimilated because they have entered or are entering a social space. The advantage of conceptually decoupling the social and the mental from one another is that it allows for the mental space or sphere to be considered without being linked exclusively to people. Rather, thoughts, ideals, beliefs and assumptions are seen to exist in a field on their own. This field is not independent of human agents, but nor is it bound by specific agents, nor their specific actions. To put it more simply, what we wish to allow for is the possibility that people identify with ideas without necessarily becoming part of a group of people where the ideas prevail. Rather than limit ourselves to the assumption that people learn ideas from being part of a group (which is, for example, a tenet of culture theory), we wish to allow for the possibility that people enter social groups from the world of ideas. Conversely, we also wish to allow for the possibility that people, when leaving social groups, do not necessarily leave the ideas that prevail in the group. The decoupling between mental and social space allow for some freedom in understanding how ideas, people and groups come together, without assuming that they are two of the same.

Framing human behaviour A spatial view of social organization as taken here is not about trying to explain behaviour, nor individual perceptions. Although it is clear that a space is perceived and inhabited by individuals, this has not been the focus in the present volume. To be sure, it is assumed that behaviour takes place in space. Although he does not use the same idea of space, Luhmann, for example, suggests that:

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… certain conditions must be present for action to be set in motion and reproduced — for example, sufficient space, means of communication, objects to be ‘handled’, and willingness to be motivated. (Luhmann, 1995: 203)

Various works point to spatial phenomena in relation to individuals and their behaviour. Bourdieu’s term “habitus” is a much-cited example of how space is conceptualized around the individual, and where the individual interacts with the wider space through his habitus. Whereas Bourdieu’s habitus is a space of living, in a completely different field — cognitive science — space is a means of perception (e.g. Nualláin, 1998). Contributions such as these are helpful in building a bridge between the space of individuals and the space of organization. They can help identify how individuals locate themselves in, and make sense of, the large spaces that surround them. They can be helpful, for example, in understanding whether or not spaces really do influence behaviour or, conversely, when and how spaces are transgressed. For example, I am taught not to cross the street when the light is red, and for all intents and purposes I would like this to apply to everyone (especially my own children!). Still, I break the rule myself. Put differently, I find the regulatory space indispensable, but I step out of it from time to time. Although studies of individuals may show how spaces influence their behaviour and perceptions, they do not show how these larger spaces are created and maintained. If we are to provide some explanations of how the larger space are created, we need to pay attention to the individual, perhaps as a participant, even in some extreme cases as an architect of space. Although individuals are indispensable, they are — when considered separately — insufficient for creating, maintaining of changing spaces. This can only come about through networks of actors and actions. In this overall network, the contribution of the individual is one of many streams that make up the river. Once the stream joins the river, however, it becomes indistinguishable from the contributions of other streams. Although the stream persists in its own right, we are more interested in this case in looking at the river than the stream. It is with this aim in mind that the present volume has been prepared.

Space in the absence of time Time and space are the basic dimensions by which we organize our understanding. They are twin notions that may be treated separately; they may be intertwined with one another, form part of one another or one may dominate the other. In short, to paraphrase Lefebvre (1991: 175), “Time is distinguishable but not separable from space.” Whereas space is chosen as the focus in this book, it is readily acknowledged


that time could also have been chosen. Maybe the most central feature of modernity, says Lefebvre, is the dominance it gives to time. Still, as just pointed out, we may choose different ways of relating time to space. In the present book, time is implicitly considered in two different ways. First, space is seen to exist in time. The construction of space happens in time and the sensation of space is projected onto time. When history is inscribed into the present, time is embodied in space, because it leaves its imprints on the space. This consideration has been ignored in a host of works in organization theory, where parameters of the organization are often assumed to exist independently of what has taken place before and after. Second, time is not considered in linear fashion such as clock time. Time, as it is considered here, is embodied in evolution, in the circularity of reproduction of space. Time is not considered as a “measure” of things, but is the path along which the reproduction takes place.

Accounting for power with space The perspective taken here is that space is constructed and reconstructed. Power is not given an explicit focus, but perspectives on power can easily be developed from the present work. Every space has its patterns of power, if we construe power as that ability to wield influence, which is unevenly distributed among actors. In the construction of physical space, power is exercised by those who can influence the structural agenda, because the structural agenda puts limits on people’s freedom. Parsons points out how the physical, or what he calls territorial, context offers opportunities of exercising power through the use of force: Force operates on the actor through the organism, by limiting its freedom, e.g., of motion or communication, or by inflicting injury on it. In order to use force against an actor it is necessary to ‘get at him’ in the place where he is or would like to be. Since the use of force is an ultimate means of prevention of action (a dead man does not act), and since as a component of power the use of force must be controlled in a society, the territorial organization of force and its contingent use is always a focus of the structure of society. (Parsons, 1951: 91).

This exemplifies a classic situation in the organizational world; the battle over budgets, for example, as well as over the shape of the new organization chart. In the social space, power is wielded through the development of allegiance and loyalty. Team leaders, for example, are assumed to influence through the ability to foster a culture of cohesion, self-sacrifice and collaboration. Despotic leaders are expected to wield influence through coercion and power plays. In the mental space we would expect power to accrue from the ability to argue, negotiate and persuade. Organizational leaders may protect “pet” projects by

Putting space into perspective

building dense mental spaces around them, with support of powerful actors, such as business school professors or external consultants, spaces that are made to look attractive from the outside. Each of these examples suggests relatively simple mechanisms of power. However, subtlety is easily introduced when logics of power in the different types of space are combined. Here we would expect some “legitimate” mechanisms of power to be visible, while other, less legitimate mechanisms to be wielded unobtrusively behind the facade of the legitimate logics. For example, a physical space may be created with an overt intention of improving efficiency, but with the tacit understanding that it will conceal and reduce the ability among individuals and groups to resist or otherwise change the organizational agenda. Leaders may wield power by rearranging social spaces through reorganization, so that people who worked closely before work in separate functions.

Overcoming the will versus environment divide The question of intention and will(power) has occupied debates in organization theory and management theory and will continue do so for a long time to come. A central question in organization and management theory is the extent to which actors’ actions are determined by their environments or whether they can wilfully act in spite of their environments. The term “actor” is here taken broadly, including both the levels of the individual and the organization. There has been a cleavage between sociologists and economists, a cleavage that was largely fuelled by Simon’s ([1945]1976) seminal work Administrative behaviour. The thrust of Simon’s critique was aimed at the assumption of optimising actors made in economics. Actors’ rationality, argued Simon, is bounded. Since Simon’s work appeared, sociologists have developed perspectives of organizations as legitimacy seeking as opposed to the kind of rationalist profit seeking perspective taken in economic organization theory. A cleavage such as this could be boiled down to contrasting views as to the wilfulness of organizational actors. Are institutions, for example, to be seen as “cultural dupes”, as DiMaggio and Powell (1983) characterize underlying assumptions in mainstream institutional theory, in the sense that they always bend over backwards to be seen as politically correct, or do institutions truly have the capacity to stake out a course of their own, in the way that Selznick’s (1957) work might lead us to think? Taken to the level of individuals, and managers in particular, the cleavage persists. For example, can managers be seen as the day-today heroes who can — and want to — carve out a different reality and future (such as reflected in the work by Peters and Waterman (1982) and many others), or are they to be seen as mere puppets who dance to the latest tunes from management

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gurus and prestigious companies and institutions (such as implied by Furusten (1999) and others)? This may be a rather “quick and dirty” way to present differences over wilfulness in organization and management theory. It suffices, however, in order to point out that differences exist and that they invite us to take a stand as whether patterns are created by actors and their will or through a kind of environmental determinism. In the former case, spatial construction would be led by entrepreneurs and leaders, and the outcomes would not be predictable. Take, in the case of management studies for example, the story by Ricardo Semler (Semler, 1993), who claims to have turned his father’s company from a conventional hierarchical company to what he calls a “circular” structure. The new structure, according to Semler, was radically different in the sense that there were no more prerogatives and fixed rules, but instead the company was run on the basis of personal engagement and caring. If, on the contrary, we work from the idea of adaptation rather than will, individual actors such as Semler would not account for much, because environmental adaptation would be given at the outset, hence the roles of individual actors would relegated to “translators” or “mediators” of existing solutions to problems. In this case, we would try to understand Semler’s actions in the light of what other companies have done, what society at large thinks is the right way to run a company or from what he learned at the business school (he went to Harvard). The former, the entrepreneur perspective, is intuitively a more exciting one, whereas the latter, the adaptation perspective, may appear to be analytically speaking a safer way of seeing things, not least because it allows correlation with something tangible and stable. The view of space taken in this book does not fall into either of these two categories. It is not based on the view of spaces being created out of a need for adjustment to the external environment. If that were the case, the creation of spaces would largely consist of a correlational analysis between the spaces created and what is going on elsewhere. That would make concepts like emergence more or less meaningless. Nor does the view of spatial construction taken here subscribe to the view that space is built by means of individual will. That would reduce the analysis to individual founders or managers and ignore how spaces interact, in time as well as in space. Instead, the book has worked from what could be called a recursive perspective of space. The questions of emergence, history and time, reproduction and the subject can be asked about specific spaces, and this framework allows the researcher to ask pertinent empirical questions about spaces.

Putting space into perspective 147

Overcoming the distinction between formal and informal organization The distinction between formal and informal organization reflects a desire to hold up the unintended against the planned, the irrational against the rational. Whereas formal organization corresponds to the espoused, intended schemas for structuring and behaviour, informal organization is created by personal relationships that develop as a result of interactions. Informal organization may provide support for the formal organization, but it may also work against it. For example, initiatives may be thwarted through informal networking, operations may be sabotaged or issues may be avoided through what Argyris (1990: 51) calls “fancy footwork”. In the eyes of Simon (1976) and Barnard (1938) formal organization would have to be balanced with informal organization to achieve as far as possible behaviour that corresponds to the objectives of the organization. Formal organization, according to Simon, depends on informal organization, because it is impossible to design formal organization that copes with all the contingencies faced by the organization. The role of informal organization is largely to provide “oil for the machinery”, as Barnard put it, but without thwarting its objectives. The formal-informal distinction has followed organization theory over several decades since the early works. It is, however, a distinction that is useful only when we study organization through the lens of rationality. Formal organization is the counterpart of rational organization. Therefore, informal organization is irrational in relation to the design of organization, whatever that can be said to be. Formal versus informal and rational versus irrational are in themselves idealized models. As idealized models they can be used in debate of epistemology. They are, however, far more difficult to discern in field research, because the formal organization cannot exist in a pure form. If Simon’s point holds, that complete rationality never can be obtained, how could then the formal organization ever be obtained? If irrationality has its rationality, as Brunsson (1985) and Elster (1979) point to in different ways, irrationality forms part of rationality. One might argue that the organization chart, which designates formal roles and decision procedures, is an incontestable reification of the formal (i.e. intended) organization. However, this only holds under two conditions. First, that the processes of elaborating it could also be labelled “formal”, and that there were no actions that could called “informal” during the elaboration of the chart. Second, that the chart could legitimately be seen as constant. Alas, neither of these conditions is appropriate. The elaboration of a “formal” chart is like any organizational decision process. It is fraught with tactics and informal contact, and it is likely to have as many “non-decisions” (Bachrach and Baratz, 1970) as decisions. Nor can the constancy of organizational charts be assumed, as they are under constant erosion and reconstruction. Even when they remain unchanged on paper, people’s


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Name index A Ahrne, Göran xvii Allport, Gordon 57 Alvesson, Mats 64 Amdam, Rolv Petter 119 Annan, Kofi 2 Argyris, Chris 103, 106, 107, 113, 147 Ashby, Ross 106 B Bachrach, Peter 147 Bakken, Tore 29, 31, 32, 52, 97, 128 Baratz, Morton 147 Barley, Steve 26, 38, 148 Barnard, Chester 115, 127, 147 Barnes, J. A. 119 Barth, Fredrik 77 Bartunek, Jean 31 Bateson, Gregory 7, 37, 48 Baum, Joel 25 Becker, Franklin 63 Beckman, Christine 5 Benson, J. Kenneth 79 Bergson, Henri 91 Bhaskar, Roy 39 Bielefeld, Wolfgang 2 Bittner, Egon 8 Blau, Peter 4, 95 Boisot, Max 118 Boissevain, Jeremy 119 Bourdieu, Pierre 30, 47, 48, 51, 52, 53, 73, 90, 136 Brunsson, Nils 9, 11, 16, 26, 52, 61, 87, 91, 105, 129, 147 Buckley, W. 26 Burns, Tor 57 Burrell, Gibson 34 C Cameron, Kim 11, 42, 43, 45 Castells, Manuel 59

Chandler, Alfred 6, 94 Clegg, Stewart 1, 20, 22, 29, 54, 64, 79 Cohen, Michael D. 48 Cooper, Robert 22 Cowan, James xv Crabtree, Andy 63 Croce, Benedetto 30 Crozier, Michel 14 Cyert, Richard 28 Czarniawska, Barbara 33, 34, 35 D Dalton, Melville 118 Deetz, Stanley 64 Dickson, W. J. 115 DiMaggio, Paul 13, 16, 25, 79, 145 Donaldson, Lex 25 Douglas, Mary 77, 103, 107, 108, 131, 141, 142 Drucker, Peter 1, 78 Dunning, Eric 36, 113 Durkheim, Emile 89, 116 E Elias, Norbert 30, 36, 37, 39, 72, 82, 113 Elster, Jon 147 Emery, Fred 116 F Fiol, Marlena 103, 106, 126 Fleck, Ludwik 102, 103, 104 Fligstein, Neil 6, 94 Fombrun, Charles 119 Foucault, Michel 38, 59, 60, 67, 92 Freeman, John 25 Friedberg, Erhard 14 Furusten, Staffan 146 G Gagliardi, Pasquale 63, 64, 88, 137 Galaskiewicz, Joseph 2


Garsten, Christina xvii, 16 Geertz, Clifford 109, 121 Gefen, David 31 Gergen, Kenneth 19 Giddens, Anthony 30, 32, 37, 39, 44, 46, 51, 53, 55, 61, 148 Goffman, Erwing 59, 60, 80, 88 Goudsblom, Johan 37 Gouldner, Alvin 129 Greenwood, Royston 31, 131 Gulick, Luther 85 H Habermas, Jurgen 23, 41 Hannan, Michael 25 Hardy, Cynthia 1, 20, 29, 54, 79 Harshbarger, Dwight 65, 83 Harste, Gorm 74, 90, 92 Harvey, David 41, 50, 60, 66, 67, 69, 91, 121 Hassard, John 31, 34 Hatch, Mary Jo 32, 63 Hernes, Tor 31, 32, 39, 52, 77, 78, 80, 83, 85, 97 Hickson, David 4 Hinings, Robert 31, 131 Holm, Petter 15 Holmer-Nadesan, Majia 31 Hull Kristensen, Peer 6 I Iterson, van Ad 31 J Jacobsson, Bengt 9, 87 Janis, Irving 28 Jermier, John M 118 Jevnaker, Birgit 113 Johnson, E. 119 K Kafka, Franz xii Kaplan Robert E. 119 Katz, Robert 2, 62 Kahn, Daniel 2, 62 Kahnemann, David 105 Kamsteeg, Franz 87

Kennedy, John F. 28 Knight, Phil 2 Klein, Naomi 3 Knoke, David 119 Knopoff, Kathleen 5 Kogut, Kenneth W. 137 Kreiner, Kristian 72, 119 Kroeber, A. L. 110 Kunda, Gideon 26 L Lanzara, Giovan 12, 49 Latour, Bruno 13, 20, 21, 26, 30, 33, 35, 39, 47, 48, 50, 53, 112, 136, 138 Law, John 1, 22, 31 Lawrence, Paul 4, 69 Lee, Nick 34 Lefebvre, Henri xviii, 51, 52, 64, 67–70, 143 Lewin, Kurt 98 Lipperini, Andrea 139 Ljungberg, Jan 104 Lorenzoni, Gianni 139 Lorsch, Jay 4, 69 Low, Setha 14 Luhmann, Niklas 11, 13, 30, 32, 39, 50, 53, 102, 106, 128 Lysgaard, Sverre 116 Lyotard, Jean-Francois 64 M Manguel, Manuel xi Manning, Peter 55 March, James 11, 27, 28, 47, 48, 52, 65, 83, 105 Marsden, Peter 119 Martin, Joanne 5, 64, 103, 108 Maturana, Umberto 31 Mauro, Fra xv Mennell, Stephen 37 Meyer, John 9, 35, 96 Meyer, Marshall 131 Meyerson, Debra 14, 108 Miller, E. J. 116 Mintz, B. 119 Montgomery, Kathleen 79 Morenoff, Jeffrey D. 126

Name index

Morgan, Glenn 6 Moss Kanter, Rosabeth 118, 119 N Nippert-Eng, Kristena 6, 62 Nisbett, Richard E. 105 Nord, Walter 20 Nualláin, Seán 143 O Oliver, Amalya 79 Olsen, Johan P. 26, 28, 47, 48, 61, 91, 105, 129 Orlikowski, Wanda 11, 13 Orr, Julian 73, 103, 117 Ouchi, William 108, 118 Owen-Smith, Jason 137 P Parsons, Talcott 22, 23, 24, 25, 50, 110, 144 Passeron, Jean-Claude 47, 48, 53, 136 Pasteur, Louis 21 Paulsen, Neil 78, 120 Peck, Simon 12 Perrow, Charles 28, 83, 129 Perrucci R. 119 Peters, Tom 56, 108 Pettigrew, Andrew 11, 42, 43, 45, 52 Pfeffer, Jeffrey 7 Potter, H. R. 119 Powell, Walter W 10, 13, 25, 30, 35, 79, 119, 137, 145 Pugh, Derek 4 Q Quinn, Robert 11, 78 R Rafaeli, Anat 61 Ranson, Stewart 31 Raudenbush, Stephen 126 Reed, Mike 20, 22, 54 Rice, A. K. 116 Roethlisberger, F. 115 Ross, Lee 105 Rothschild-Whitt, Joyce 4, 72 Rowan, Brian 13, 35, 96

Ruef, John 2 Ruigrok, Winfred 12 Røvik, Kjell Arne 138 S Sahlin-Andersson, Kerstin 11, 35 Salancik, Gerald 7 Sampson, Robert 126 Savage, Deborah 119 Schein, Edgar 4, 52, 108 Schultz, Majken 72, 119 Schön, Donald 82, 103 Scotson, John 37, 82 Scott, W. Richard 1, 2, 25 Scully, Maureen 14 Selznick, Philip 130, 145 Semler, Ricardo 146 Sevón, Guje 33, 35 Simon, Herbert 27, 43, 61, 65, 83, 104–105, 147 Smircich, Linda 108, 135 Smith, Adam 90, 92 Spencer-Brown, George 19, 77 Stalker, Jeremy 57 Stark, Miriam 91 Steele, Fred 63 Steine, Tor Olav 134 Strati, Antonio 96 Swartz, David 53, 90 T Taylor, Fredrick 93 Thompson, James D. 5 Thorsrud, Einar 116 Tichy, Noel 119 Tolbert, Pamela 31, 38, 148 Tushman, Michael 119 Tversky, Amos 105 U Urwick, L. 85 V Van Maanen, John 109 Varela, Francisco 31 Vilnai-Yavetz, Iris 61

161


W Waltzing, Jean Pierre 89 Waluszewski, Alexandra 133 Warren, Roland L. 79 Waterman, Robert 56, 108 Weber, Max 52, 53, 86–88, 91 Wedin, Torkel 133 Weick, Karl xi, xii, 1, 22, 26, 28, 29, 43, 46, 47, 57, 66, 78, 110–111 Whitehead, Alfred North 19, 32, 49, 51, 55, 67, 136 Whitley, Richard 6

Whittington, Richard 12 Winroth, Karin 2 Woodman, Richard 11, 42, 43, 45 Y Yates, Ann 13 Z Zerubavel, Eviatar 82 Zollo, Maurizio 139 Zucker, Lynne 131

Subject index A Actions and process as organization 26, 27, 28 Actants 54, 112, 136 Actor network theory 31 Aesthetics 137–138 Agrarian organization 90 Apple 96–97, 121 Aston group 92 Autopoietic theory 31–33 B Behaviour 142–143 Body 60 Boundaries 77–84 Boundaries, social 82 Boundaries, physical 81 Boundaries, mental 82 Boundaries as distinction 83 Boundaries as ordering 83 Boundaries as thresholds 83–84 Budgeting, budgets 32, 86, 129 Bureaucracy 86, 128 C Circular reference 33 Cliques 117–118 Communities 117–118 Connectedness 137 Contexts 41–58 Contexts, limitations of 59–60 D Decision making 105 Discipline 94 E Educational system 136 Electronic space 95 Emergence 48–50, 95, 111–112, 120 Events 33, 128

F Factories 92 Fields of spaces 78–80 Figurational sociology 36–37 Financial control 94 Formal and informal organization 147 France 92 G General Motors 133 Grafting 12, 135–136 H Habitus 51, 143 Hawthorne 115 Hewlett Packard 96–97 History, historicity 50–52, 88, 96–97, 122–123, 134, 144 I IBM 4 Identity 121 Individual versus collective 113, 135–136, 142, 113 Innovation 108, 132 Institutions 60, 130–132, 141 Institutions in society 55 Intensity 138–139 L Leadership 144–145, 145–146 Legitimacy 138 Linux 12, 104 Locales 46 M Managers, challenges 42 Mental space 72, 101–114 N Nesting 15


Networks and translation 33–35 New institutionalism 34, 35, 45, 138 Nike 3 Norms 108–110 Norsk Data 134 O Organizational change 98–99, 102 Organizational culture 45, 108–110, 141 Organizational death 134 Organizational learning 106–108 Organization, definition 89 Organization, bounded form 4 Organization, unbounded form 8 Organization, related to organizations 10 Organization theory, debates 19–22 Organizations, proper name organizations 2 Organizations, temporary 16 Outsourcing 94, 134 P Panopticon 94 Physical space 71, 85–99 Power 60, 136, 144–145 Process 33 Process as space 65 Process in space 67 Process sociology 36–37 Professions 16 R Recursivity 32, 51 Regulatory space 86 Reproduction 52–54, 97–98, 112, 121, 144 Representations of space 73 Representational space 74 Reversible and irreversible processes 32, 33 Roman Empire 128 Rules 88

S Sensemaking 57, 65, 110–111 Social action 102–103 Social space 71, 115–124 Space, empty space 67 Space, categories of 71, 72 Space of opportunities 67 Spatial attraction 137–139 Spatial dynamics 125–139 Spatial practice 73 Stability and stabilization 88 Standards 9 Structuration theory 30, 37–38, 44 Structure and process 32, 33 Substitution of spaces 132–135 Systems theory 116 T Temporary organizations 89 The Body Shop 5 The subject 54–57, 98–99, 113, 123 Third-pole theories 30–31 Thought worlds 103–104 Thought style 104 Thought collective 104 Time 50–52, 143–144 Time and space 66 Total institutions 60 Translation versus diffusion 35, 138 U United Nations 4, 5 W Will versus environment 145–146

John Benjamins Publishing Company publishes Advances in Organization Studies as a reformulated continuation of the De Gruyter Studies in Organization. 1. ZEYTINOGLU, I¸sik Urla (ed.): Developments in Changing Work Relationships in Industrialized Economies. 1999. 2. HENKE, Holger and Ian BOXILL (eds.): The End of the ‘Asian Model’? 2000. 3. QUACK, Sigrid, Glenn MORGAN and Richard WHITLEY (eds.): National Capitalisms, Global Competition, and Economic Performance. 2000. 4. MAURICE, Marc and Arndt SORGE (eds.): Embedding Organizations. Societal analysis of actors, organizations and socio-economic context. 2000. 5. CHAN, Andrew: Critically Constituting Organization. 2000. 6. BOS, René ten: Fashion and Utopia in Management Thinking. 2000. 7. RHODES, Carl: Writing Organization. (Re)presentation and control in narratives at work. 2001. 8. HOSKING, Dian Marie and Sheila McNAMEE (eds.): Organization Behavior. Social constructionist approach. n.y.p. 9. CLEGG, Stewart R. (ed.): Management and Organization Paradoxes. 2002. 10. ITERSON, Ad van, Willem van MASTENBROEK, Timothy NEWTON and Dennis SMITH (eds.): The Civilized Organization. Norbert Elias and the future of organization studies. 2002. 11. CZARNIAWSKA, Barbara and Pasquale GAGLIARDI (eds.): Narratives We Organize By. 2003. 12. HERNES, Tor: The Spatial Construction of Organization. 2004.

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The Civilized Organization: Norbert Elias and the Future of Organization Studies (Advances in Organization Studies)

The Judicial Construction of Europe

The Social Construction of Europe

The Emerging Spatial Mind

The Spatial Construction of Organization

Teamology: The Construction and Organization of Effective Teams

The organization of learning

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The Organization of Learning

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The Organization of Inquiry

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The Neurobiology of Spatial Behaviour

The Sociology of Spatial Inequality

The Social and Spatial Ecology of Work: The Case of a Survey Research Organization

The Accuracy Of Spatial Databases

The Idea of Spatial Form

The Organization of the International

Making Sense of the Organization: Volume 2: The Impermanent Organization

Spatial Divisions of Labor

Handbook of Spatial Logics

Handbook of Spatial Logics

Handbook of Spatial Logics

The Social Organization of Work

Handbook of spatial logics

The Theory of Industrial Organization

The Emotional Construction of Morals

The Political Organization of Space

The Theory of Industrial Organization

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The Civilized Organization: Norbert Elias and the Future of Organization Studies (Advances in Organization Studies)

The Judicial Construction of Europe

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