What we think

March
15
2012

A master of the universe resigns

Goldman Tower, Jersey City

Greg Smith had been working for Goldman Sachs for twelve years before he published the resignation letter yesterday which has caused a furore.

It presents a devastating portrait of a corporate culture that is entirely self-serving and betraying the interests of its clients:

“I attend derivatives sales meetings where not one single minute is spent asking questions about how we can help clients. It’s purely about how we can make the most possible money off of them. If you were an alien from Mars and sat in on one of these meetings, you would believe that a client’s success or progress was not part of the thought process at all.

“It makes me ill how callously people talk about ripping their clients off. Over the last 12 months I have seen five different managing directors refer to their own clients as “muppets,” sometimes over internal e-mail.”

Smith describes three ways in which people routinely make money in the firm and thereby get elevated to leadership positions:

“a) Execute on the firm’s “axes,” which is Goldman-speak for persuading your clients to invest in the stocks or other products that we are trying to get rid of because they are not seen as having a lot of potential profit. b) “Hunt Elephants.” In English: get your clients — some of whom are sophisticated, and some of whom aren’t — to trade whatever will bring the biggest profit to Goldman. Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t like selling my clients a product that is wrong for them. c) Find yourself sitting in a seat where your job is to trade any illiquid, opaque product with a three-letter acronym.”

One response to this is to question Smith’s sense of timing, as Robert Peston has done:

“Has so much changed over the past 12 years? I’m not so sure. I’ve been watching Goldman for more than 20 years, and I’m not persuaded it was ever the co-op Mr Smith seems to think he joined. Which is not to say that Mr Smith – a Goldman “executive director”, who has more than 2000 managing directors and partners above him in the pecking order – doesn’t have a point. But it is to question why the humungous penny has dropped for him only now.”

Nathan Vardi at Forbes puts it all down to a mid-life crisis. He means this dismissively but there may be a more constructive meaning to the observation. The mid-life transition is a time when individuals connect with aspects of themselves and values that they have been neglecting in earlier years. Rather than the Goldman culture having changed around Smith, perhaps he is seeing it with the lucidity of an outsider that has eluded him until now.

Whatever his motivations, what of the truth in his critique? While Goldman has previous, as detectives would say, there is a real sense in which the culture of investment banks has changed over the years. In the UK, people speak of a culture of honour that was lost after the Big Bang of deregulation in 1986. Many couldn’t stomach the change and got out. The historian, Niall Ferguson, has highlighted the high moral standards pursued by Sigmund Warburg who embodied “relationship banking” in the era before Big Bang:

“Though no paragon – he was prone to theatrical rages – Warburg was a saint by the standards of today’s financial markets. “Success from the financial and from the prestige point of view, important and self-understood as it is, is not enough,” he wrote in 1959. “What matters even more is constructive achievement and adherence to high moral and aesthetic standards in the way in which we do our work.” It is hard to imagine any modern bank chief executive coming out with a line like that.”

Modern bankers are more likely to come out with lines like this – from The Guardian’s banking blog:

“I remember in my first few weeks I sat down with one of the structured products guys. He was selling so-called PFI deals, where local authorities buy a complicated financial instrument to pay for, say, a hospital. I asked him: where’s the benefit for the local authorities in this? He was aghast. ‘What are you, a socialist?’”

What’s interesting about all this is not so much that banks behave in this way. Didn’t we already know that? Rather, the fact that the disclosures come from within is a sign that staff are experiencing discomfort with the gap that has opened up between banking culture and society at large. Greg Smith is saddened by how far Goldman people are from model citizens. His account resonates because it is so forthright about where this leads:

“It astounds me how little senior management gets a basic truth: If clients don’t trust you they will eventually stop doing business with you. It doesn’t matter how smart you are.”

The speed with which his article has electrified the commentariat is a sign that it is on society’s side that the gap has opened and the banks haven’t cottoned on. As Robert Peston puts it:

“The spirit of the age is indeed that banks should revert to their role of servants of capitalism rather than masters of the universe. If Goldman fails to learn that lesson, it may well lose the clients that are the source of all those enormous bonuses. The bank’s rather lacklustre share-price performance over the past year may imply that perhaps in this vital regard it is something of a slow learner.”

What’s true of banking is more broadly true of business as a whole. In today’s consumer capitalism, businesses that thrive are those that concentrate more on the value they create for customers and society than on how they can maximise their own gain in the short term.

Image courtesy Saebaryo.

March
06
2012

The value of culture lies in its capacity to enrich lives

The National Gallery drew crowds during the Second World War for recitals by Myra Hess

AMA Commons, the blog of the Arts Marketing Association, has published this piece on the relationship between the artistic purpose and the social purpose of arts organisations.

Organisations of all kinds face a new challenge: to demonstrate that they create value for society and not just for themselves.

A reckoning has been a long time coming after the financial collapse of 2008. But it’s arrival is unmistakable – not just in the mood music of the party leaders as they compete to compose the best tune on moral capitalism. It’s evident in the furore around the aborted bonus of the RBS chief executive, Stephen Hester, the broadly sympathetic hearing given to the Occupy protestors at St. Paul’s, and the public revulsion over the phone hacking scandal which brought about the Leveson Inquiry into the role of the press.

The broader context is the maturing of social media which has enabled the public to put pressure on leaders in unpredictable ways. This was a key factor in the phone hacking affair, in which a campaign on Facebook and Twitter brought down the News of the World in a matter of days.

Arts organisations may consider these remote developments. But this would be to underestimate what are in fact seismic shifts in the relationship between the public and organisations. With no immediate end in sight to austerity, arts companies – as recipients of public and charitable money – can expect intensified scrutiny of their value. But there’s also an opportunity in that the arts’ contribution to the quality of life can compensate for declining standards of living.

People working in the arts could be forgiven for having an allergic reaction to talk of social value. During the last decade, arts companies were made to jump through hoops to justify their existence in terms other than their artistic purpose – for example, their impact on regenerating depressed areas or the arts’ stimulus to the UK economy. The new social value agenda – exemplified by the likes of Michael Porter at Harvard Business School and David Jones, an advertising executive and former adviser to David Cameron – provides a way to align the artistic and business aims more authentically. It emphasises not the spin-off effects of an organisation’s activities but the contribution to society made by its core purpose.

All organisations, if you think about it, are founded to deliver value to society beyond providing profits for shareholders or a living for those who work in them. The purpose of the arts is intrinsically social; they exist to reach audiences.

But to what end? This question begs an assertive answer – the value of culture lies in its capacity to enrich lives, challenge preconceptions, engage the imagination and simply delight. In hard times, these qualities are prized and hard to come by and this is why people gravitate to the arts. Think of the role played by the National Gallery during the Second World War – when Myra Hess gave piano recitals to lift the spirits of Londoners and (with the collection evacuated to Wales) people queued to see the single picture that the Gallery was able to display each month.

Social value, then, is about more than the language arts organisations use to account for themselves. It encourages programming in ways which create more impact on people’s lives – perhaps by reaching more people, perhaps by surprising existing audiences into deeper engagement with the arts. Here’s an example. The Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment has recently been taking classical music into pubs. This might have been conceived as an attempt to reach new audiences but I suspect the actual outcome has been to enable devotees to experience music afresh.

For arts marketers, the questions raised by social value thinking concern how well they understand the communities they serve. What sense of purpose informs the organisation and how well does it align with what audiences’ need?

People in the arts tend to have a strong sense of vocation and to take as self-evident that the arts are a good thing. But they are curiously embarrassed to articulate the benefits the arts create. It can be invigorating for arts professionals to inquire into that deeper sense of purpose and to communicate it to audiences and funders alike. Sometimes, the inquiry can uncover a gap between intention and practice – the organisation isn’t doing what it says it’s doing. That realisation can spark a renewal which can lead to increased attendances and more revenue. That’s to express the outcome from the organisation’s point of view. In social value terms, what that means is challenging and delighting more people through engaging them in arts.

March
01
2012

The role of business schools in society

Business school lecture – a force for good or harm?

 

Book review: Confronting Managerialism: How the Business Elite and Their Schools Threw Our Lives Out of Balance by Robert R. Locke and J.-C. Spender

One of the striking characteristics of the debate about the economic crisis is the ease with which the epithet “anti-capitalist” is used to describe even the mildest critique of the status quo. Even David Cameron (a fleeting champion of “moral capitalism”) was at it last week, condemning as “anti-business” people who argue that the bosses of large corporations should restrain themselves from accepting obscene pay awards when the performance of their companies has been poor.

But compared with the likes of Lenin, Arthur Scargill or even the Labour Government of 1945, what’s most remarkable about today’s “anti-capitalists” is the extreme moderation of their aspirations. They dream only of an economic order which is more reliable in creating wealth and slightly more equitable in the distribution of spoils.

Confronting Managerialism by Robert Locke and J.-C. Spender provides both an example of and an explanation for this phenomenon. They describe how Anglo-American capitalism was hijacked by a self-serving caste who pursued their own enrichment at the expense of the broader communities of which they were a part. And they analyse how, in so doing, this managerial caste pressed home a lingua franca which restricted discussion of business decision-making to purely quantitative, financial considerations – which portrayed the closure of factories and the hollowing-out of communities, as the result of neutral, almost natural forces, and thereby obscured the pursuit of their sectional self-interest.

Confronting Managerialism is a bracing read precisely because it strips away the lingua franca of business to provide a historical account of the past thirty years in the clearest possible terms:

“Economists and management scientists explain what happened in neutral analytic terms, but in human terms the facts are that stockholders colluded with the management caste to maldistribute the diminishing wealth in their favor. The gap between rich and poor started to grow and has increased steadily for thirty years. Managers and their corporate lawyers working to achieve maldistribution of the shrinking economic pie in their favor dissolved the social pact on which the previous trust rested. The oft-told story of promises to employees and unions broken by management is legend now – of downsizing, of outsourcing in order to cut to the cost of wages and benefits, of chapter eleven bankruptcies that permitted management to set aside union contracts, of management raiding employee pension funds, etc. Management, employees and stockholders could have opted to share the pain, but the management caste in charge of American corporations squeezed powerless employees hard. Any idea of a moral order under managerialism disappeared.”

The reference to “management scientists” in that quote alerts us to the other main thrust of their critique: the role played by business schools in advancing a quantitative, free-market approach to business. This purported to meet the validity of the natural sciences but stripped out of consideration the complex, human aspects of life in organisations, which are fundamentally social institutions. Mathematic modelling fostered a focus on financial engineering to maximise profits and share values in the short term. With reference to the logic of capital and unrealised promises of a rising tide lifting all boats, it disguised the material impact – which was, as the quote above describes, the dismantling of social bonds and redistributing the lion’s share of diminishing returns to a narrow elite.

Why was it a shrinking pie? Because Anglo-American capitalism wasn’t even effective in its own terms. At times the prose in Confronting Managerialism resembles that of the first volume of Marx’s Capital or E.P. Thompson’s The Making of the English Working Class, classic works that with similar clarity of language described earlier processes of subjugation of society to a self-serving caste. But the analogies with socialist history end there. Locke and Spender advocate nothing more than the kind of inclusive capitalism practised in Germany or Japan; a capitalism which, they argue, has been more successful in sustaining growth, social cohesion and successful enterprises over the long term.

They are careful to distinguish between effective management that co-ordinates profitable enterprise in organisations and the ideology of managerialism pursued by the caste of corporate leaders. Management concerns stewardship of the firm as an entity, paying attention to the interests of the whole community in the survival of the firm. The authors’ critique of business schools is that management education aligned itself wholly with managerialism and thus contributed little to our understanding of the art of effective management nor the broader position of the firm in society:

“Business schools should not just serve a management caste but business and industrial firms as entities. Therefore, they must broaden contacts to all firm stakeholders including members of trade unions and other non-management employees (as, for example, in teaching courses to employee members of compensation committees). To justify their existence as public institutions, business schools must also be proactive in leading management back to social responsibility, or business schools (instead of arts and humanities programs in universities) should be shut down, since there is ample evidence of the harm they have done, and that other countries have prospered without them.”

Confronting Managerialism brings a sharp edge to a broader critique of business schools which has been surfacing since the financial crash. Joel Podolny in a 2009 article in Harvard Business Review, the house journal of the MBA culture, drew attention to the trend:

“The resentment against the MBA is visible everywhere. The New York Times printed several letters on March 3, 2009, reacting to a news story about the pressure these trying economic times have exerted on the teaching of the humanities. The letter writers alluded to the fact that by studying the arts, cultural history, literature, philosophy, and religion, people develop their powers of critical thinking and moral reasoning. Business schools don’t develop those skills, they argued, which is why MBAs made the shortsighted and self-serving decisions that resulted in the current financial crisis.”

Podolny argued that a systematic focus on ethics needed to be introduced into management education – not just a bolt-on module isolated from the rest of the curriculum but conscious inquiry into the ethical dimensions of every part of the MBA agenda.

In our experience, there are signs of movement in this direction. In some cases, such as at Cass Business School in London, there has been a concerted effort to ensure that all faculty and professional staff understand the ethical dimensions of their subject and engage students in considering them. Elsewhere, the pressure is coming from students themselves – aware that the generation ahead of them created an unsustainable paradigm and anxious for an alternative. There’s also growing interest from corporate clients who have seen the backlash against irresponsible capitalism and are placing social value among their top issues for executive education. These businesses know that the old corporate social responsibility agenda, which put social considerations at the periphery of firm, has been replaced by a need to understand the ways in which a firm’s core purpose creates (or destroys) social value.

Confronting Managerialism is a stimulating contribution to this debate. It puts on the agenda the social value of business schools themselves. It challenges academia to take a broader view of how it serves business. In order to do that well, management education needs to account for the role of business in society and to provide critical perspectives. Creating an echo chamber for a managerial caste will no longer do, and the smart business schools know it.

 

Confronting Managerialism: How the Business Elite and Their Schools Threw Our Lives Out of Balance by Robert R. Locke and J.-C. Spender.

 

Image courtesy PromoMadrid.

January
05
2012

Assessing the social value of universities

Universities may be on the back foot but the concept of social value gives them the opportunity to seize the initiative.

 

Loughborough University Library

 

Anyone interested in the future of higher education would do well to read the NCCPE’s recent report on the social value of universities. Paul Manners, the NCCPE’s Director, sets the context for the report when he quotes research for Universities UK in 2010 which suggested that less than one in five people in the UK recognise the wider impacts that universities have on society. This alarming statistic goes some way to explaining the relative ease with which the government has introduced its controversial reforms. Where the public has shown concern it has been focused almost exclusively on the level of fees rather than on the implications for the sector and its contribution to the life and health of the nation.

The contrast with the NHS or the BBC could not be greater. These two institutions are hardly without their critics but, such is the public’s basic regard for them, politicians tread carefully when proposing their reform. Against this backdrop, there is an urgent need for universities both collectively and individually to find a way of talking about their value that engages effectively with the public and thence politicians.

The report is valuable not least for its clear and balanced assessment of the different approaches to assessing and measuring social value. There is an extensive literature here and the authors provide a useful guide to anyone wishing to understand this concept better. The main point of their report is to set out the case for their chosen method of assessing and reporting social value, the “SMEV” or “socially modified economic valuation” which aims to put a hard, numeric value on the contribution that universities make to society. We endorse this attempt at finding a rigorous and quantitative approach to assessing social value and find the authors’ arguments for doing so compelling. However,  our experience at the BBC, where we developed and applied the Public Value Test, suggests that caution is in order and that the SMEV, as described, may not be as workable as the authors believe.

We also endorse their view that valuable though the SMEV approach is it needs to be located within a broader debate about how the sector creates social value. From this a framework can be created which sets out the sector’s purposes and what can be expected of it.

The SMEV model involves the following steps:
* Identifying all university outputs
* Quantifying the outputs
* Economic pricing of the outputs
* Finally, adding “social weights” to the results of the economic valuation to produce the SMEV

So, for instance, take the hypothetical example of an open university lecture which was free to those attending. The authors estimate, through a technique known as “shadow pricing”, that the economic value of the lecture would be some £357. To assess the social value of the lecture the authors turn to HM Treasury’s Green Book for guidance. The Green Book provides guideline “weights” for economic analysis which reflect what the government deems to be socially useful. In this hypothetical example the lecture succeeded in attracting a disproportionately high number of students from less advantaged backgrounds which, in so far as it is in line with government policy, produces an upweighting of the value of the lecture to between £405 and £442.

While we think the SMEV is an interesting and potentially worthwhile approach we question whether it is as workable as described in the report. The authors point to a pilot study at Strathclyde University which succeeded in identifying 220 separate outputs. However, this marks only the beginning of what is potentially a highly complex process, not least because of the difficulty of identifying the intentions behind each output. For instance, in the hypothetical example of the open lecture, it is quite conceivable such a lecture would be designed and delivered with more than one socially desirable output in mind.

We encountered precisely this problem at the BBC when trying to assess the impact of the BBC’s programming and concluded that, much as we would have liked to demonstrate its delivery of socially valuable goals, the sheer complexity of identifying the range of intentions at the point of commissioning and then assessing their impact at the point of delivery was just too great. While it might be possible to manage the complexity of identifying outputs at the level of individual institutions it would be a challenge of a different order at the sectoral level.

These reservations aside, we think the SMEV could in principle help support better informed decision-making by university administrators and civil servants. As the report’s authors say, though, the sector needs rather more than this. They refer to the need for a “narrative of value” as well as a hard, quantitative valuation precisely because numbers alone cannot “‘catch the imagination’ or give insight into the richness and diversity of higher education.” We strongly agree with this and their contention that the SMEV would need to work within a wider context that would see agreement as to what value society expects the sector to create.

To do this would mean engaging with the question of outcomes and it is here that the sector has an opportunity to seize the initiative and begin to set the terms on which its effectiveness is judged.

The report’s authors rightly point out that outcomes – e.g. a healthier, better educated society – are the products of variables that are outwith the control of any one institution or grouping of them. For this reason they limit the SMEV to a consideration of outputs. While we can understand this from a methodological point of view, we nonetheless believe they lose sight of outcomes rather too easily. The SMEV might reasonably look for evidence of how outputs are supportive of outcomes, albeit not at the expense of the hardness of the data provided by outputs.

An understanding of desired outcomes is critical to securing legitimacy in the eyes of the wider public and those with the power to grant or withhold funds. Very few will be interested in the number of research papers or open lectures a university produces – however “weighted”. But a discussion about the socially beneficial outcomes that an institution or sector is trying to promote through its various activities has the potential to engage and to do so in effective ways.

This was our experience at the BBC. In developing the Public Value Test and the attendant Public Value performance framework, we deliberately eschewed a focus on any single metric as indicative of success or otherwise and instead emphasised the need for judgment, albeit based on careful and rigorously researched evidence.

The focus of our work was on the BBC’s six public purposes and an engagement with the public about how far the BBC was meeting them in its existing or proposed services. What struck us forcibly was the ease with which the public engaged with the idea of there being products and services which had high social value and were therefore worthy of public funding but in which most individuals had little personal interest. One of the best examples of this is current affairs programming which, relatively speaking, attracts few viewers and listeners but which rates very highly as something which the BBC should continue to provide in the interests of a well-functioning democracy.

There is no doubt that the BBC has benefited greatly from adopting a public value framework. It was developed on the basis of both audience research and staff engagement and government was closely consulted in the process. The result is a framework that forms an agreed basis for engagement with government and stakeholders. It is one that is owned and understood by staff and provides the means for a continuing dialogue with the public as to how well the Corporation is meeting its purposes and where it needs to improve. The Public Value Test has also done much to address what were acute commercial concerns about the BBC’s development of new services, particularly in nascent markets.

Unlike the BBC, our universities are in the unenviable position of creating value both economic and social of which the public seems heedless. There is no simple solution to this problem, no magic bullet that can illustrate their value. But the sector as a whole and the institutions within it can change this situation if they begin to engage seriously with the question of fundamental purposes and use this as the basis for a dialogue with the public. There is much to be said for a rigorous, evidence-based approach such as that proposed in the NCCPE paper but only as part of a deeper, more far-reaching discussion about what our universities think they are for.

Image courtesy Loughborough University Library.

December
22
2011

Art in the time of austerity

 

We’ve recently completed a project with the National Portrait Gallery, who engaged us to develop a draft social value model. We spoke to people at all levels of the National Portrait Gallery’s staff as well as external stakeholders such as corporate sponsors.

We found this a striking instance of the specifity of making a social value case. It’s tempting to think in generic terms about the social value of any given sector. But each institution is different. The National Portrait Gallery has unique characteristics which differentiate it from other galleries and museums. These are rooted in its founding purpose, which was to tell the story of Britain through portraits of men and women of achievement. Unusually for an art gallery, this means that the subject of the artworks is of greater importance than their artistic merit. Is the National Portrait Gallery, therefore, most similar to other galleries in their role as custodians of arts or to museums which curate artifacts of historic interest? To what extent should it stay true to its Victorian mission to tell a canonical story of Britain versus a contemporary, post-modern one to foster critique of hegemonic narratives and encourage a more inclusive portrayal of Britain?

The answer to these question are determined in part by the view one takes of the social value that the Gallery should deliver under different scenarios of how the economic crisis will play out.

In the boom years, prior to the financial crash, the cultural sector enjoyed growing financial support – the case for which was made largely in terms of the arts’ contribution to the economy. In times of austerity, one might expect the focus to become narrower still – as declining financial support may encourage institutions to worry purely about inputs and hang the outcomes. From this perspective, consideration of social value is a luxury that can wait for more buoyant economic conditions.

But it is interesting to note that some aspects of the National Portrait Gallery’s social value come to the fore most clearly in times of uncertainty and social distress. The potential for a gallery of portraiture and achievement to promote social cohesion and moral example was part of its attraction to the Victorian founders and remains relevant today. This potential was fufilled in 2005, when the Gallery saw a significant growth in visitor numbers in the weeks and months following the 7/7 tube and bus bombings in London.

The reasons for this are unclear but it’s an echo of the role the neighbouring National Gallery played during the Second World War. Bombed and with its entire collection removed to safety in North Wales, the National Gallery nonetheless became a much-loved beacon of hope and civilisation as it maintained a programme of daily concerts and a changing monthly display of a single picture. The director, Kenneth Clarke – inundated with requests – programmed for a public he regarded as “anxious to contemplate a nobler order of humanity” as noted by the art critic, Andrew Graham-Dixon:

“The first “Picture of the Month” selected was … the Noli me Tangere, Titian’s profoundly moving depiction of the Magdalen reaching out towards Christ, who has appeared to her after his resurrection, and who gently reproves her with the words “Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to my father.” It is not hard to see why this image of the unattainable Christ, of a salvation that can be sensed but not touched, would have spoken so directly to people during the darkest days of war.”

Attendances outstripped normal peacetime attendance to the full gallery. Andrew Graham-Dixon discerns a lasting impact today on the National Gallery’s sense of purpose:

“The legacy of the “Picture of the Month” is impossible to quantify but perhaps the Observer’s reporter came closest to the truth when he remarked that as a result of it “The National Gallery is far more genuinely a national possession than ever before”. Its Trustees, true to the moral example set by their wartime predecessors, have made sure that it remains just that. Unlike virtually any other national museum of equivalent status – the Louvre, say, or the Prado – it remains free of charge. This is reflected in patterns of visitor attendance, so that whereas the typical French visitor to the Louvre attends once a year, if that, the majority of British visitors to the National Gallery will go there around ten or twelve times in the same period. They may go to see a special exhibition, but as often as not they will go during a lunch hour, or even just for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, to see a particular, favourite work of art. The pleasure of looking at art is often greatest when the object of attention is just one picture and it seems that this lesson, learned all those years ago, during wartime, has somehow embedded itself in the national consciousness.”

This aspect of value is also evident at the National Portrait Gallery. It seems that, in the wake of 7/7, people gravitated towards both the vision the Gallery offers of Britain as a conducive and inclusive society and the ease of enjoyment and uplift that wandering its galleries provides.

While we were working there in the months after the London riots and with the prospect, still with us, of financial collapse in Europe, we could see how this aspect of the Gallery’s social value could be especially pertinent in the current climate. Not only does it provide an antidote to the sense of social division that the riots exemplified, it also provides a cost-effective and accessible way of fostering well-being at a time when more material compensations are contracting.

Arts institutions are accustomed to thinking about these aspects of their value in relation to their outreach work in local communities. They are less assertive in articulating these benefits in relation to their core purpose. We find that people who work in organisations often find it difficult to describe the intrinsic value of what they do – partly because it is self-evident to them, partly because the culture of the last thirty years has been more interested in the instrumental value of institutions. Is it possible that the era of austerity will make it more propitious to justify the intrinsic value of the arts?

Image courtesy Roberto Trm.