Reading :: The Temporary Society

The Temporary Society: What is Happening to Business and Family Life in America Under the Impact of Accelerating Change
By Warren Bennis and Phillip Slater

In one of his articles on adhocracies, Mintzberg sources the concept to Alvin Toffler, but also references the original 1968 edition of this book. Although it doesn't use the term "adhocracies," it does forecast some of the changes we associate with them. And although this is definitely a general readership book in the mold of Future Shock, it does give us some idea of what sorts of changes the authors were seeing in organizations at the time.

The copy I bought is the 1998 edition, in which the authors provide a new preface and retrospectives that come in front of each chapter. This preface summarizes some of the themes, so we'll start with it.


Bennis and Slater argue that bureaucracies tend to share certain characteristics:

• A strong division of labor. Bureaucracies overlay institutional hierarchies, which tend to be divided into departments. 
• Narrow specializations. Implied in this strong division of labor are narrow specializations. Bureaucracies tend to compartmentalize specializations in departments. 
• Hierarchy and levels. In a rigid bureaucracy, the manager operates as the official communication and coordination point for his or her department. Although people in the department might informally chat with others in different departments, officially, they communicated via the chain of command.  
• Command and control. Finally, bureaucracy assumes a command-and-control structure. In an institutional hierarchy, people higher in the hierarchy are assumed to have more information by virtue of their positions. They also tend to have more experience in their given department, having worked their way up the hierarchy in that department. Thus they are assumed to be in a better position to make decisions than those lower in the hierarchy. The greater access to information gives them the ability to command effectively, while the greater experience gives them the ability to control those in their specialty due to their understanding of the job. (p.xii)

Bureaucracies, they say, are set up to control, order, and predict. Given a slow-changing institutional hierarchy, offering lifelong employment, bureaucracies offered a way to make sure those with the most experience got the most information and (theoretically) made the best decisions.

But, they argue, "The organizations of the future will resemble networks or modules. The successful ones will have flattened hierarchies and more cross-functional linkages. The three words that best describe the mind-set of this paradigm are acknowledge, create, and empower" (p.xii). They equate this shift with democracy and claim that this shift is inexorable in business and society (p.xiii).

Diving into the original (1968) parts of the book, we see them developing this argument. They argue that "democracy becomes a functional necessity whenever a social system is competing for survival under conditions of chronic change" (p.10, their italics). Although bureaucracy is okay "for simple tasks under static conditions," it's not okay "for adaptability to changing conditions, for rapid acceptance of a new idea," etc. (p.10, citing a paper by Bennis).

Given this point, they say that bureaucracies will be more limited:

Tomorrow's organizations will be federations, networks, clusters, cross-functional teams, temporary systems, ad hoc task forces, lattices, modules, matrices—almost anything but pyramids. The successful ones will make problem finding, not problem solving, their first priority. They will be led by people who embrace error, even the occasional failure, because they know it will teach them more than success. Such organizations will be led by people who understand, as scientists do, the primal pleasure of the hunt that is problem solving. (p.63).

And on the next page:

In Chapter One, we predicted the end of bureaucracy as we know it and the rise of new social systems better suited to the twentieth-century demands of industrialization. This forecast was based on the evolutionary principle that every age develops an organizational form appropriate to its genius, and that the prevailing form, known by sociologists as bureaucracy and by many businessmen as "damn bureaucracy," is out of joint with contemporary realities. (p.64).

Bureaucracy, they say, faces four threats:

1. Rapid and unexpected change

2. Growth in size where the volume of an organization's traditional activities is not enough to sustain growth ...

3. Complexity of modern technology where integration between activities and persons of very diverse, highly specialized competence is required 

4. A basically psychological threat springing from change in managerial behavior (p.66). 

So what will succeed bureaucracy? Their prediction sounds very familiar if you've read Toffler.

The social structure of organizations of the future will have some unique characteristics. The key word will be temporary. There will be adaptive, rapidly changing temporary systems. These will be task forces organized around problems to be solved by groups of relative strangers with diverse professional skills. The group will be arranged on an organic rather than mechanical model; it will evolve in response to a problem rather than to programmed role expectations. The executive thus becomes coordinator or "linking pin" between various task forces. He [sic] must be a man who can speak the polyglot jargon of research, with skills to relay information and to mediate between groups. People will be evaluated not according to rank but according to skill and professional training. Organizational charts will consist of project groups rather than stratified functional groups. (p.83)

And thus "work groups will be temporary systems, which means that people will have to learn to develop quick and intense relationships on the job and learn to bear the absence of more enduring work relationships" (p.84). Indeed, they later state that "Individuals will be brought together on the basis of talent and availability, and geographic location will be less of an impediment than prior commitments" (p.92).

Just a side note. Notice the lack of agents here. "There will be adaptive, rapidly changing temporary systems." "The group will be arranged..." "Organizational charts will consist..." "Individuals will be brought together..." Underneath all of this change, Bennis and Slater still envision large, persistent organizations in which people work and by which they are deployed, across work groups, across specialties, across the country.

Let's leave it there. The Temporary Society previews some of the themes that we see later in Toffler's Future Shock (1970) and then, in much more analytical detail, in Mintzberg's The Structuring of Organizations (1978), and eventually in far less detail in Wellman's Adhocracy (1993). Although it doesn't make nearly the contribution of Toffler's or especially Mintzberg's books, it does give us a good idea of the organizational changes people were beginning to see in the late 1960s.

Symmetry as a methodological move, part IV

Is there a difference between hitting a nail with and without a hammer?

This is one of the provocative questions that Latour asks in Reassembling the Social (p.71). The question, of course, is rhetorical: of course there's a difference. Using the hammer remakes—perhaps I should say makes—the activity in a very fundamental way. Perhaps holding a hammer makes every problem look like a nail, but similarly, a nail poses a very different problem when one doesn't have a hammer.

Yet, Latour charges, classical sociology has tended to ignore the hammer and other material objects when it examines human activities. These material objects are often seen as incidental, he says, to what classical sociologists see as their real focus: social constructs, social structures, social contracts, social forces, etc. As Latour argues in his book Aramis, classical sociology sees through actors to the social structure, scrutinized through fixed frames such as norms, reason, logic, and common sense (pp.199-200). It assumes "a stabilized state of affairs, a bundle of ties that, later, may be mobilized to account for some other phenomenon" (Reassembling the Social, p.1). It posits "the existence of a specific sort of phenomenon, variously called 'society,' 'social order,' 'social practice,' social dimension,' or 'social structure'" (p.3). This social "context" "can be used as a specific type of causality" (pp.3-4), i.e., it causes people to act in various ways. So, Latour claims, classical sociology begins with society or social aggregates; sociologists then study the effects of these causes (p.8).

Latour does not necessarily think this is a problem.

In fact, Latour says, classical sociology is like Newtonian physics. In most ordinary cases, when change happens slowly, it's fine to use a fixed frame of reference. When you're trying to determine with what force an object will hit the ground, knowing only the object's mass and rate of acceleration, it's fine to use Newtonian physics (f=ma). And if you're studying fixed social situations, such as traditional craftwork, a fixed-frame approach such as classical sociology is A-OK in Latour's book (literally his book: Reassembling the Social p.12).

But in other cases, we need a relativist frame. If you want to understand why atomic clocks run slower on commercial jetliners than they do at the US Naval Observatory, Newtonian physics will not get you very far; you need a relativist physics. And if you want to study situations in which "things accelerate, innovations proliferate, and entities are multiplied," Latour says, you need a relativist sociology (Reassembling the Social p.12)—one with no fixed frames or metalanguage (Aramis p.200).

In this alternate, relativist view, "'social' is not some glue that could fix everything including what the other glue cannot fix; it is what is glued together by many other types of connectors" (Reassembling the Social, p.5). It's not the cause but the consequence of the assemblage (Reassembling the Social, p.8); the social is what you get when you associate various things. Thus, in this relativist sociology, you can't understand the social until you trace the associations among things (p.5). The things themselves aren't social; what's social is how they are shuffled together (p.64).

Let's try this out with some examples.

Situation 1. Suppose you're visiting a carpenter and his apprentice in their workspace. They're familiar and comfortable with their tools (hammers, saws, miter boards, etc.) and with each other, and they're doing work with which they are very familiar. Their hands are sure and their movements are smooth,  as you might expect from experienced people performing familiar tasks. In activity theory's terms, they their work is largely operationalized, habituated to a degree that they hardly have to think about it, leaving them free to talk baseball and politics. In fact, the details and tools of their craftwork may not be nearly as interesting as other things you might be able to investigate in this fixed frame: how they bond through talk, how they represent themselves in topics, how the carpenter retains or fails to retain social dominance over the apprentice.

Situation 2. But now let's suppose we visit a middle-aged college professor. He's at home, working at his kitchen table, surrounded by books and papers. The window is open, letting in a breeze that repeatedly moves the papers. Suddenly he gets up, fetches a hammer from the kitchen counter, and puts it on top of a page.

Now, that's not a completely novel use for a hammer, but it is certainly not what the hammer was designed to do. And this use snaps our attention to what we might stuffily call "the materiality of writing"—a broad set of different things (materials, artifacts, practices, people) that become associated in order for the professor to do his work. Without some of these associations, the work doesn't turn out the same way, or perhaps at all. These different things all contribute somehow. Sometimes it's through direct problem-solving, as in the maps and hoeys that Hutchins describes. Sometimes it's through mediations that make the problem space more tractable, like using a hammer as a paperweight. Any thing might be an actor—"any thing that does modify a state of affairs by making a difference," Latour says (Reassembling the Social p.71). So the operative question is: "does it make a difference in the course of some other agent's action or not?" (p.71).

Or as I asked at the beginning: Is there a difference between hitting a nail with or without a hammer?

When Latour uses symmetry, it's as a methodological move: a move that focuses us on the associations among various humans and nonhumans. And since the associations themselves are the focus, the things they associate fade into the background. It's not that nonhumans become humans or vice versa, it's that these differences in qualities are no longer what we're investigating. Hipsters and horses are different, but those differences don't matter to an elevator or gravity. Professors and papers are different, but that difference isn't the focus of Latour's methodology.

Now let's connect this discussion to something closer to home. Earlier I mentioned the materiality of writing, something I've been studying for the last 15 years. One of my first moves—conducted after reading Hutchins, but before reading Latour—was to begin describing and examining genre ecologies, which are (loosely speaking) associations of text types used in people's work. This move was, like Latour's, a methodological move, meant to help me focus on a specific issue: How people were solving problems by using available texts in their environments. This issue became very important to me during my first set of observations, when I discovered something that (when you think about it) should be blindingly obvious: people don't just read one text at a time. In fact, they string together lots of texts, sometimes surprisingly large gobs of wildly heterogeneous texts, related in very different ways. Some of these are things that we would not normally consider texts at all.

My focus, that is, shifted toward the associations among the genres I saw being used in these observations, which I mapped using basic network diagrams, characterized based on qualitative data (observations, interviews, artifact collection), and compared between participants and observations. Rather than asking "How does this person read and write?" I began asking, "What combinations of texts do people need in order to get work done?" "When and why do people innovate new texts to include in these combinations?" "How do they associate these texts?" "When is one association substituted for another?" "Around which associations do people encounter the most disruptions?"

The construct of the genre ecology helped me get at questions such as these, methodologically, by helping me to focus away from individual expertise, interpretation, cognition, and social forces, and instead focusing on the associations that held these together. At the same time, this methodological move forced me to demand specific evidence for each association.

That's not to say that genre ecologies are symmetrical in the way that Latour's actor-networks are. Genre ecologies model associations among texts, not all kinds of entities, and those associated texts collectively mediate human activity rather than enfolding human beings into the collective activity of a system. That is, genre ecologies are still conceived within a WAGR framework. But methodologically, they constitute a similar move, one that has paid dividends for me (and, I hope, for others in my line of work).

And that's where I want to leave this series. When Latour proposes that we study humans and nonhumans symmetrically, when I propose that we study genres in ecologies, when Newton proposes that force can be considered mass times acceleration for any mass in a fixed frame, these are not all-encompassing propositions. They are deployed only when they make methodological sense. Physicists, I'm assured, don't look at their loved ones and see kilograms (unless, perhaps, when they're worried about the elevator breaking down). Similarly, Latour doesn't talk to doorknobs—unless he needs to apply that methodology to solve a particular kind of problem.

Reading :: The Structuring of Organizations

The Structuring of Organizations
By Henry Mintzberg

 I've been researching adhocracies lately, beginning with Toffler's book Future Shock, and one of the names that often comes up is Henry Mintzberg's. Mintzberg, a management professor at McGill University has published a remarkable number of books; in his 1979 synthesis The Structuring of Organizations, he synthesizes the research on how organizations are structured and why.

I'm no professor of management, and I doubt I'll be able to do justice to this book in a review. But the book itself is not intimidating or difficult. Mintzberg patiently and clearly synthesizes the extant management literature, pointing out its gaps and developing a systematic account of how organizations structure themselves under different circumstances. It's a fascinating read.

But it's also an introduction to an entire subfield, so Mintzberg cautions us in the preface to read it in order. The fundamental concepts laid down in earlier chapters are necessary for understanding the later chapters. Mintzberg courteously puts the most important information in bold type, a convention that I'll preserve in the quotes below.

Organized human activity, Mintzberg tells us in Chapter 1, requires two opposing things: "the division of labor into various tasks to be performed and the coordination of these tasks to accomplish the activity. The structure of an organization can be defined simply as the sum total of the ways in which it divides its labor into distinct tasks and then achieves coordination among them" (p.2). In fact, Mintzberg identifies five fundamental coordinating mechanisms: "mutual adjustment, direct supervision, standardization of work processes, standardization of work outputs, and standardization of worker skills. These should be considered the most basic elements of structure, the glue that holds organizations together" (p.3).

Those mechanisms are as follows:

1. Mutual adjustment: "achieves the coordination of work by the simple process of informal communication" (p.3)
2. Direct supervision: "achieves coordination by having one individual take responsibility for the work of others" (pp.3-4)
3. Standardization of work processes: achieved "when the contents of the work are specified, or programmed" (p.5; cf. Castells on programmable labor)
4. Standardization of outputs: achieved "when the results of the work, for example, the dimensions of the product or the performance, are specified" (p.6)
5. Standardization of skills: achieved "when the kind of training required to perform the work is specified" (p.6)

Mintzberg furthermore claims that these "seem to fall in a rough order": "As organizational work becomes more complicated, the favored means of coordination seems to shift... from mutual adjustment to direct supervision to standardization, preferably of work processes, otherwise of outputs, or else of skills, finally reverting back to mutual adjustment" (p.7). In other words, work coordination becomes more standardized and controlled as the work becomes more complex—but at a certain point, work becomes too complex to be adequately coordinated via these controlled mechanisms; they become "impossible to standardize" (p.8). At that point, a highly complex organization reverts to informal communication, at least in some aspects of its work. This final development is not a shock if you've read Toffler, or field research into organizations for that matter (such as, ahem, my books). But Mintzberg gives us tools to systematically think through how organizations get there—as well as well-sourced research supporting each point. 

To better explore the five different organizational structures that spring from these types of coordination, Mintzberg introduces nine "design parameters, the basic elements used in designing organizational structures" (p.14). These include:

individual parameters such as

• job specialization
• behavior formalization
• training and indoctrination

superstructure parameters such as

• unit grouping
• unit size

lateral linkage parameters such as 

• planning and control systems
• liaison devices

and decision-making parameters such as 

• vertical decentralization
• horizontal decentralization (p.14)

In Chapter 2, Mintzberg tours the five basic parts of the organization: 

• The operating core, "wherein the operators carry out the basic work of the organization";
• The strategic apex, including "those at the very top of the hierarchy, together with their own personal staff";
• The middle line, which "joins the strategic apex to the operating core through the chain of command";
• The technostructure, "wherein the analysts carry out their work of standardizing the work of others, in addition to applying their analytical techniques to help the organization adapt to its environment"; and
• The support staff, which "supports the functioning of the operating core indirectly" (p.19)

In fact, Mintzberg writes that large organizations tend to take on a great number of support units outside their core work, providing services that the organizations could easily buy from outside suppliers. Why? Mintzberg speculates that the support staff "reflects the organization's attempt to encompass more and more boundary activities in order to reduce uncertainty, to control its own affairs" (p.32). (Note that this trend reversed late in the 20th century, and now the trend is to outsource noncore functions). 

In Chapter 3, Mintzberg describes the organization as a system of flows, including flows of authority, material, information, and decision processes. These flows include "rich networks of informal communication [that] supplement and sometimes circumvent the regulated channels" (p.46). And "the organization takes on the form of a set of work constellations, quasi-independent cliques of individuals who work on decisions appropriate to their own level in the hierarchy" (p.54). Such work constellations are sometimes functionally grouped, sometimes crosscut (p.56). 

With this background, Mintzberg is ready in Part II to discuss the design parameters. First up, in Chapter 4, is job specialization. Mintzberg differentiates between horizontal job specialization, which separates work by function (pp.69-70), from vertical job specialization, which "separates the performance of the work from the administration of it" (p.71). In fact, "jobs must often be specialized vertically because they are specialized horizontally" (p.72): because the task becomes narrow, the worker doesn't have the perspective to control it. Interestingly, Mintzberg argues that specialization in the 1950s had a lot to do with the scarcity of labor—since employers had to hire unskilled workers (p.74). (Today, labor is much less scarce and much more likely to be educated; does this mean that we can expect a swing away from generic labor and back to self-programmable labor, to use Castells' terms?)

Let's pause to briefly note that Mintzberg doesn't discuss extra-organizational workers at all (e.g., independent or dependent contractors). The discussion is entirely about what goes on inside a given organization. I'm not criticizing this decision—after all, the book is on organizations, not networks of organizations, and Mintzberg also makes it clear that in 1979 the trend was to do work in-house rather than via suppliers when possible. But the omission does suggest that we will need to look farther than this excellent book to understand the current dynamic in organizations.

Back to the book. In Ch. 5, Mintzberg discusses behavior formalization via the mechanisms of job, work flows, and rules. In all cases, "organizations formalize behavior to reduce its variability, ultimately to predict and control it" (p.83; cf. Zachry & Thralls). In fact, "organizations that rely primarily on the formalization of behavior to achieve coordination are generally referred to as bureaucracies" (p.84). Drawing on Weber and others, Mintzberg says that "we can define a structure as bureaucratic—centralized or not—to the extent that its behavior is predetermined or predictable, in effect, standardized" (p.86). Drawing on Burns and Stalker, Mintzberg argues that bureaucracies are good for addressing stable circumstances, but bad for innovation or adaptation to changing environments (p.86); for those requirements, one needs a more networked structure. Mintzberg summarizes: "In effect, whereas bureaucratic structure emphasizes standardization, organic structure as described by Burns and Stalker is built on mutual adjustment. However, we shall here define organic structure by the absence of standardization in the organization... we put bureaucratic and organic structure at two ends of the continuum of standardization" (p.87).

Mintzberg also notes that one can substitute training for formalization—that is, an organization can try to control behavior either directly (through procedures and rules) or indirectly (by hiring professionals that have been trained to do work in a standardized way) (p.101). But "the professional organization surrenders a good deal of control over its choice of workers as well as their methods of work to the outside institutions tht train and certify them and thereafter set standards that guide them in the conduct of their work" (p.102). (One side effect, noted by Toffler in 1970, is that professionals begin to hold allegiance to their professions rather than their organizations.)

On to Ch.7, on unit grouping. As Mintzberg argues, "grouping is a fundamental means to coordinate work in the organization" (p.106). It 

1. "establishes a system of common supervision among positions and units"
2. "typically requires positions and units to share common resources"
3. "typically creates common measures of performance"
4. "encouages mutual adjustment" (p.106)

Unit size (Ch.8) also has an impact on coordination. For instance, "a tall structure has a long chain of authority with relatively small groups at each hierarchical level, while a flat structure has few levels with relatively large work groups at each" (p.136). Consequently, the flat structure provides for faster information flow, but at the cost of more discussion and consultation, which exerts its own costs on the organization (p.137). Mintzberg argues that "unit size is driven up by (1) standardization of all three types, (2) similarity in the tasks performed in a given unit, (3) the employees' needs for autonomy and self-actualization, and (4) the need to reduce distortion in the flow of information up the hierarchy; and it is driven down by (1) the need for close direct supervision, (2) the need for mutual adjustment among complex interdependent tasks, (3) the extent to which the manager of a unit has nonsupervisory duties to perform, and (4) the need for members of the unit to have frequent access to the manager for consultation or advice" (p.143). 

Let's skip a bit. In Ch.10, Mintzberg discusses liaison devices. One particular structure he describes is the matrix structure, which groups on two bases simultaneously: functional and market-based (p.169). It sacrifices the unity of command (pp.169-170). The matrix structure turns out to be "a most effective device for developing new activities and for coordinating complex multiple interdependencies, but it is no place for those in need of security and stability" (p.173). Indeed, the shifting matrix structure (as opposed to the permanent matrix structure) is well suited for project work, which focuses on temporary tasks (p.172; again, cf. Toffler). 

In Ch.11, Mintzberg discusses vertical and horizontal decentralization, particularly in terms of power over decisions in organizations (p.181). Vertical decentralization is "the dispersal of formal power down the chain of line authority" (p.185), while horizontal decentralization is "the extent to which nonmanagers control decision processes" (p.186). Interestingly, "the more professional an organization, the more decentralized its structure in both dimensions" (p.201). In fact, Mintzberg summarizes one study: "the more decentralized networks tended to use more messages to accomplish their tasks and to make more errors," and "the decentralized, all-channel network eventually settled down to nearly the same operating efficiency as the centralized wheel [an alternate, centralized structure]" (p.206).

Let's skip to Chapter 13, where Mintzberg discusses age and size. He argues that organizations go through "distinct transitions between 'stages of development'" (p.227). These include:

1a. Craft structure, with one group, informally organized, coordinated via mutual adjustment and via standardization of skills (p.242).

1b. Entrepreneurial structure, involving a vertical division of labor, coordinated via direct supervision, but still characterized by an informal, organic structure (pp.242-243).

2. Bureaucratic structure, involving the specialization of jobs, a hierarchy of authority, and coordination via direct supervision and standardization (pp. 243-246).

3. Divisionalized structure, in which the functional bureaucracy splits into distinct Stage 2 bureaucracies with their own operating cores and markets (pp.246-247).

4. Matrix structure—and Mintzberg follows this heading with a question mark. "There are hints in some of the more recent literature that divisionalized structure may itself be an intermediate stage before a final transition, to matrix structure" (p.247). 

In Chapter 14, Mintzberg moves on to the technical system. Let me pick out just one interesting claim here: "Automation of routine tasks ... eliminates the source of many of the social conflicts, throughout the organization" (p.265). 

Chapter 15 is about the environment in which the organization operates. Mintzberg presents five hypotheses from the literature:

• "The more dynamic the environment, the more organic the structure" (p.270)
• "The more complex the environment, the more organic the structure" (p.273)
• "The more diversified the organization's markets, the greater the propensity to split it into market-based units" (p.278)
• "Extreme hostility in its environment drives any organization to centralize its structure temporarily" (p.281)
• "Disparities in the environment encourage the organizaiton to decentralize selectively to differentiated work constellations" (p.282)

Based on these, Mintzberg provides a matrix for understanding how the environment affects the organizational structure. It's instructive (p.286):

	Stable	Dynamic
Complex	Decentralized Bureaucratic (standardization of skills)	Decentralized Organic (mutual adjustment)
Simple	Centralized Bureaucratic (standardization of work processes)	Centralized Organic (direct supervision)

Notice that in complex, dynamic environments, organizations will tend to be decentralized and organic, coordinating via mutual adjustment. We'll return to a variation on this table in a little while.

Skipping a bit, we get to Part IV, Structural Configurations. Now that we have the necessary background, we can understand the five configurations (p.301):

Structural Configuration	Prime Coordinating Mechanism	Key Part of Organization	Type of Decentralization
Simple Structure	Direct supervision	Strategic apex	Vertical and horizontal centralization
Machine Bureaucracy	Standardization of work processes	Technostructure	Limited horizontal decentralization
Professional Bureaucracy	Standardization of skills	Opeating core	Vertical and horizontal decentralization
Divisionalized Form	Standardization of outputs	Middle line	Limited vertical decentralization
Adhocracy	Mutual adjustment	Support staff	Selective decentralization

Mintzberg says that "the organization [is] being pulled in five different directions, one by each of its parts," and when one part is dominant, we get a specific structural configuration (p.301). I'm personally most interested in adhocracy: "the support staff gain the most influence in the organization not when they are autonomous but when their collaboration is called for in decision making, owing to their expertise. This happens when the organization is structured into work constellations to which power is decentralized selectively and which are free to coordinate within and between themselves by mutual adjustment. To the extent that conditions favor this pull to collaborate, the organization adopts the Adhocracy configuration" (pp.302-303).

So let's skip all the way to Ch.21, "The Adhocracy." Here, Mintzberg lists the structure's characteristics:

• Prime coordinating mechanism: Mutual adjustment
• Key part of the organization: Support staff (in the administrative adhocracy; together with the operating core in the operating adhocracy)
• Main design parameters: Liaison devices, organic structure, selective decentralization, horizontal job specialization, training, functional and market grouping concurrently
• Contingency factors: Complex, dynamic, (sometimes disparate) environment, young (especially Operating Adhocracy), sophisticated and often automated technical system (in the Administrative Adhocracy), fashionable (p.431)

Mintzberg explicitly credits the term to Toffler (p.432). "Sophisticated innovation requires a fifth and very different structural configuration, one that is able to fuse experts drawn from different disciplines into smoothly functioning ad hoc project teams" (p.432). Adhocracies involve a highly organic structure; high horizontal job specialization (i.e., formally trained specialists); small market-based teams; liaisons to encourage mutual adjustment; selective decentralization; and the avoidance of any standardization for coordination (pp.432-433). Indeed "The Adhocracy must hire and give power to experts—professionals whose knowledge and skills have been highly developed in training programs"—and "it must treat existing knowledge and skills merely as bases on which to build new ones" (p.434). "In Adhocracies the different specialists must join forces in multidisciplinary teams, each formed around a specific project of innovation" (p.435). Adhocracies tend to use the matrix structure (p.435). Adhocracies tend to be decentralized both horizontally and vertically (p.436).

As we saw earlier, "The Adhocracy is clearly positioned in an environment that is both dynamic and complex" (p.449). Such environments include the moon program, but also guerilla warfare (p.449). Furthermore, adhocracies tend to be young organizations, since "Adhocracy is the least stable form of structure" and "All kinds of forces drive the Adhocracy to bureaucratize itself as it ages" (p.455). For all that, adhocracy is tomorrow's structure: "This is the structure for a population growing ever better educated and more specialized, yet under constant exhortation to adopt the 'systems' approach—to view the world as an integrated whole instead of a collection of loosely coupled parts" (p.459). 

Of course, adhocracies face various challenges. Two are:

• Constant ambiguity. It's true that "Adhocracy is the only structure for those who believe in more democracy with less bureaucracy," perhaps (p.460), but it requires workers to have a high tolerance for ambiguity.
• Problems of efficiency. "No structure is better suited to solving complex, ill-structured problems than the Adhocracy. None can match it for sophisticated innovation. Or, unfortunately, for the costs of that innovation. ... Adhocracy is simply not an efficient structure.... Adhocracy is not competent at doing ordinary things" (p.463). Adhocracies thrive when solving unique problems, but get bogged down in heavy communication costs that are not tenable for dealing with routine problems.

And with that, we conclude the book. It's really an excellent, systematic, thorough, thought-provoking book, and if you're even marginally interested in how organization structures work, I highly recommend it. Doubtless parts have aged, been superseded, or not stood the test of time since it was published in 1979—but the basic structure works well, particularly if you're as interested in adhocracies as I've been lately. 

Reading :: Diagnosing and Changing Organizational Culture

Diagnosing and Changing Organizational Culture: Based on the Competing Values Framework
By Kim S. Cameron and Robert E. Quinn

I found this book as I was reviewing the literature on adhocracies, and was intrigued by some similarities with the TIMN framework. The book is based on many years of research conducted by Quinn and his colleagues, research that characterizes organizational culture.

The book itself, however, is not a research text but more of a how-to: How do organizations characterize their own internal culture, and how do they use that characterization to better understand how to change it? As the authors state, "The current challenge ... is not to determine whether to change but how to change to increase organizational effectiveness."

To help these organizations characterize their org culture, the authors present a heuristic and various instruments for filling it out. This heuristic, the Competing Values Framework (CVF), is described as "now the most dominant framework in the world for assessing organizational culture." It's a grid with two axes. The horizontal axis "differentiates effectiveness criteria that emphasize flexibility, discretion, and dynamism from criteria that emphasize stability, order, control" (cf. my Genre 2012 presentation). The vertical axis "differentiates effectiveness criteria that emphasize an internal orientation, integration, and unity from criteria that emphasize an external organization, differentiation, and rivalry." So:

• Horizontal: control v flexibility
• Vertical: internal v external

Laying down those axes, you get four quadrants. Clockwise from the top, these are:

• Clan (collaborate)
• Adhocracy (create)
• Market (compete)
• Hierarchy (control)

If you've been following my discussions of Ronfeldt's TIMN framework, you may notice at least a superficial resemblance to his Tribes (Clan), Institutions (Hierarchy), Markets (Market), and Networks (Adhocracy). Ronfeldt has thoughts on the resemblance that are well worth reading.

The authors note that "different organizational values have become associated with different forms of organization." These organizational forms are described in the modern era, not across the sweep of history, and the discussion focuses on workings internal to the organization rather than crossing organizations.

• Hierarchy. This discussion is based on Weber and describes the Hierarchy form as involving 
• a formalized, structured place of work
• stability, predictability, efficiency
• formal rules and policies
• Market. This discussion is based on Williamson and Ouchi and describes the Market form as involving
• transaction costs
• orientation toward the external environment
• economic market mechanisms, competitive dynamics, monetary exchange
• Clan. This discussion is based on Ouchi; the Clan form is specifically traced back to the success of Japanese firms. The Clan form involves
• shared values and goals, cohesion, participativeness, individuality, and "we-ness"
• the organization as an extended family
• teamwork, employee involvement programs, corporate commitment
• semiautonomous work teams; team accomplishment
• Adhocracy. This discussion is not extensively sourced, but seems loosely based on Mintzberg. The Adhocracy form involves
• responsiveness to the information age and its "hyperturbulent, ever-accelerating conditions"
• innovativeness and pioneering initiatives
• fostering of entrepreneurship, creativity, and activity on the cutting edge
• temporary, specialized, dynamic work
• fostering of adaptivity, creativity, and flexibility
• the disintegration of the structure at the end of the project

These organizational forms have competing values and criteria of effectiveness. Yet organizations tend to be a hybrid of such organizational forms, sometimes a hybrid of all four. Furthermore, Cameron and Quinn argue, organizations tend to develop through forms in a particular order:

1. Adhocracy
2. Clan
3. Hierarchy
4. Market

(Note that this order not only contradicts Ronfeldt's TIMN framework (which postulates four basic organizational forms developing in the order Tribes, Institutions, Markets, and Networks over the span of human existence) but also Mintzberg's more complex order in The Structuring of Organizations, in which adhocracy emerges last but shares the principle of mutual adjustment with the earliest form. [Update: I withdraw this statement with regard to Mintzberg; I misread Mintzberg's order. CS 11/2/12] The CVF is simpler, with fewer factors, than Mintzberg's scheme.)

Furthermore, the authors argue, "mature ... organizations tend to develop subunits or segments that represent each of these four culture types." One example is Apple's "pirates" on the Macintosh development team during Steve Jobs' first term, which functioned as a clan.) And "the organization must develop the capability to shift emphases when the demands of the competitive environment require it." Indeed, the authors say, culture change is much less predictable in mature organizations.

The CVF is a powerful heuristic for assessing organizational culture. Yet it is powerful in part because it is reductive and that reductiveness poses limitations. For instance, the developmental account isn't strong, and since it focuses on developments in the modern era, it doesn't give us a good tool for analyzing organizations historically or for analyzing long change. CVF provides a way to see competing values, but not to analyze them in terms of their contradictions, again particularly in terms of how those contradictions lead to developments in the long term. The spatial metaphor leads us to think of increments or decrements in each dimension rather than examining how they overlap or interact and can become points of innovation. And the CVF focuses on culture within an organization, not on how cultural dimensions can stretch across organizations. I'm particularly interested in how the notion of adhocracy can be applied to federations of activities, for instance, but the CVF is not geared to that sort of analysis.

But it doesn't pretend to be. The CVF seems to be very helpful for getting one's arms around the competing values in an organization along these specific dimensions. If you're interested in that sort of analysis, either directly or in terms of how it can interact with other sorts of analyses, definitely check it out.

Reading :: The Craft of Research

The Craft of Research, Third Edition
By Wayne C. Booth, Gregory G. Colomb, and Joseph M. Williams

A quick review for a quick read. This book is not weighty, but it does a great job of describing how to think through research arguments as claims that must be supported by reasons and evidence—a formulation that I regularly use in my undergraduate classes. For that reason, this is a good resource for those who are new to research, particularly undergraduates.

Reading :: Mirror Worlds

Mirror Worlds: or the Day Software Puts the Universe in a Shoebox...How It Will Happen and What It Will Mean
By David Gelernter

I've discussed David Gelernter before on this blog, in the context of his work on lifestreaming. In this book, Gelernter touches on lifestreaming, but in the context of a larger discussion of where software development is going. Specifically, writing in 1993, Gelernter imagines a world in the not-too-distant future in which complex systems—such as cities, states, and nations—can be modeled in "mirror worlds," providing up-to-the-minute overviews of the changes in those complex systems, giving us the ability to understand those systems better, and thus positively impacting public discourse. Imagine playing SimCity with a real city.

The book is not large, but it does a lot of things. Let me see if I can disentangle these.


Gelernter argues that we often have trouble getting to the big picture, understanding the entire system. Instead, he says, we get mired in the details, something that he calls ant-vision. “Ant-vision is humanity’s usual fate; but seeing the whole is every thinking person’s aspiration. If you accomplish it, you have acquired something I call topsight.” Topsight—the overall understanding of the big picture—is something that we must "pursue avidly and continuously, and achieve gradually." It's a systemic understanding, a way of seeing the whole (see p.11; 30; 42; 51). Mirror worlds are a way to assist in achieving topsight by modeling the complex interactions in an entire system, interactions that are continuously updated via sensors. But topsight, like insight, comes gradually; don't confuse it with the model itself, understand it as something that the model make it possible to achieve.

Gelernter doesn't see mirror worlds as a way to control these complex systems so much as a way to understand them by achieving topsight. And he sees this achievement as not just technical but also public: a way to help people better understand the public information with which they are concerned, a way to "convert the theoretically public into the actually public," and in the process, a way to help the public become better consumers of information who can make better decisions.

As Gelernter describes mirror worlds, he delves into programming concepts: simple ones such as procedures, variables, and recursion, then more complex ones such as tuples. His casual, talky style makes these concepts seem completely commonsensical—in fact, I would have really enjoyed reading this book when I was pursuing my computer science degree.

Overall, the book is really intriguing. Although I think Gelernter ultimately misjudged how achievable mirror worlds would be, I was impressed by the book's scope and by how well Gelernter connected the public sphere, programming, and complexity in a popular book.

Writing :: Activity Streams: Building Context to Coordinate Writing Activity in Collaborative Teams

Hart-Davidson, W., Zachry, M., & Spinuzzi, C. (2012).  Activity streams: Building context to coordinate writing activity in collaborative teams. SIGDOC ‘12: Proceedings of the 30th Annual ACM International Conference on Design of Communication. New York: ACM.

This is the fourth in my ongoing series on writing publications. Unlike the first three, it's coauthored—in fact, I'm only the third author. Bill and Mark have to take credit for the heavy lifting.

The paper doesn't have a link yet because it hasn't been uploaded to the ACM Digital Library, but it will be soon. (Update: it's linked now—10/10/12.) And if you attended SIGDOC 2012 (which just wrapped), you have the paper on a USB drive.

So: What's interesting about this particular paper? It follows a line of development that Mark, Bill, and I started in the mid-2000s, when we really became interested in the question of how people in knowledge work environments might use social media to communicate. In particular, we had studied proposal writing in three organizations and we had become interested in the possibilities. I had written a literature review on lifestreaming and workstreaming for SIGDOC 2007 (which was rejected), and in the process, we became interested in the notion of activity streams.

In the intervening years, we pursued separate projects. Bill and his research team at WIDE began the project that eventually became Eli. Mark and his research groups began investigating social media and editing history in a remarkable string of papers. I continued studying how people in small, transient teams used various channels to communicate with each other. But the three of us continued to communicate about our projects and their similarities.

This year, Mark served as conference chair for SIGDOC and I served as program chair. Since Bill expressed interest in coming, one of us (I forget who) suggested that we put together a paper that pulled together what we knew about activity streams from our ongoing research. The collaboration worked well, as usual. I pulled the lit review from the rejected 2007 paper, freshened it, and plugged it in; Bill wrote a section on activity streams and recapitulated our earlier research; the three of us contributed summaries of our cases; and we collectively edited the document. I think it turned out pretty well.

What lessons can you learn from this paper? One is that when a paper is rejected, sometimes that's because it doesn't yet serve a purpose. My 2007 workstreaming paper was an okay review, but it didn't have a "so what" beyond the fact that the phenomenon was interesting; I had to think through why workstreaming was important, something that the intervening cases helped me to do.

And it's worth pointing out that this year, SIGDOC's reviewers rejected two of my papers. That's fine: I'm already starting to think through how they could be made useful in other publications.

Reading :: The Tacit Dimension

The Tacit Dimension
By Michael Polanyi

The Tacit Dimension is an oft-cited book, so often cited that I have often felt guilty for not reading it earlier. But when I finally ordered it, I was surprised at how thin it was. The book is a compilation of three lectures, of which the first seems to be the most cited.

Polanyi is concerned about the difference between the over-emphasized role of explicit, expressed knowledge and the less-expressed tacit knowledge—as he puts it on p.4, "I shall reconsider human knowledge by starting from the fact that we can know more than we can tell" (p.4, his emphasis). How does tacit knowledge work, he asks?

To answer the question, he moves methodically. First, he posits that "the basic structure of tacit knowledge ... always involves two things," one known and the other unknown. "It combines two kinds of knowing." His example is that of unconscious associations learned from administering shocks (p.9). That is, there's a functional relationship between two "terms," in which "we know the first term only by relying on our awareness of it for attending to the second" (p.10). "In an act of tacit knowing we attend from something for attending to something else; namely,  from the first term to the second term of the tacit relation" (p.10).

But there's also a phenomenal relationship between the two terms: "We are aware of that from which we are attending to another thing, in the appearance of that thing."

Together, the functional and phenomenal aspects yield meaning: "When the sight of certain syllables makes us expect an electric shock, we might say that they signify the approach of a shock. That is their meaning to us" (p.11).

Polanyi goes on like this for a bit, reasoning in a stepwise fashion through semantic and ontological meanings (p.13), then discussing why an explicit integration can't fully replace its tacit counterpart (p.20). Honestly, although I appreciated the careful work here, it also seemed quite limiting in the way that these abstract discussions so often do. I began to see why Polanyi's book is so often cited but so rarely described in any detail: the people I have read seem to very much like the notion of tacit knowledge, on knowing more than we can tell, but aren't especially invested in the actual philosophical dissection that interests Polanyi.

Me, I appreciate and respect his effort, even though it's not a discussion that I relish following in detail.

Reading :: Adhocracy

Adhocracy
By Robert H. Waterman, Jr.

Alvin Toffler's 1970 book Future Shock coined the term "ad-hocracy" to describe "the fast-moving, information-rich, kinetic organization of the future, filled with transient cells and extremely mobile individuals" (Toffler 1970, p.144). Such adhocracies (let's drop the hyphen), Toffler said, would be composed of experts from different fields who came together to swarm a project objective, rotated leadership during different phases, then dispersed at the end of the project.

Toffler's observation, and especially his term, really took off in the literature. For instance, Mintzberg's The Structuring of Organizations theorized adhocracies within a larger framework of organizational structures and characteristics. Robert Quinn and associates wrote both articles and books (such as Cameron and Quinn's Diagnosing and Changing Organizational Culture: Based on the Competing Values Framework) describing adhocracies as one quadrant of a larger framework of organizational cultures. Others similarly took up the term.

Twenty years after Future Shock, Waterman published this thin volume, simply named Adhocracy. It's not an academic study, it's a business book, and its definition of adhocracy is right on the front cover: "Any form of organization that cuts across normal bureaucratic lines to capture opportunities, solve problems, and get results." Similarly, on p.16, he defines it "broadly" as "any organizational form that challenges the bureaucracy in order to embrace the new." That is, in Waterman's view, an adhocracy functions within the setting of an established bureaucracy. In fact, he says, "I've focused on the most common, sturdy, and visible ad hoc form: the project team, or task force" (p.17).

Startlingly, Waterman says that although Toffler introduced the idea of the adhocracy in Future Shock (and he also cites Warren Bennis' 1960s work as a precursor), "nobody ever really fleshed out the idea, applied it to the business world, sought out success stories, or outlined their common themes" (p.19). This is the task that Waterman takes up—and the results, I think, tell us a lot about Waterman's time and place.

Drawing on interviews and stories from managers, Waterman states that adhocracies need "clear and visible executive support" to thrive (p.28). Since adhocratic work is unstructured and untied to the bureaucratic position (particularly compensation), he says, it requires a managerial perspective and frequent management interaction (p.31). Teams, he says, must represent all parts of the bureaucracy, both horizontally (across the departments in the org chart) and vertically (down the levels of hierarchy in the org chart) (p.36)—and one way to ensure this representation is to use the "diagonal slice" method, slicing diagonally across the org chart to select the appropriate diversity of team members (p.37). To summarize, in Waterman's view, adhocracy is a construct of the existing bureaucracy rather than a different kind of organization.

Indeed, Waterman cautions against measures that threaten the existing bureaucracy, since these measures will also destroy the viability of adhocracies. Writing in 1990, he says, "In the rush to downsize and de-layer, most companies don't have the human resources to make adhocracy work as well as it should. If you agree that rapid change is here to stay and that team efforts work only when staffed with good people, then it's hard not to conclude that there is such a thing as being too lean and too mean" (p.45). Later, Waterman argues that "adhocracy can flourish only in an atmosphere that discourages bureaucratic excess and uses the bureaucracy to structure team efforts" (pp.97-98). Compare these statements with Toffler's description of the adhocracy—"the fast-moving, information-rich, kinetic organization of the future, filled with transient cells and extremely mobile individuals" (Toffler 1970, p.144)—and you'll realize how much this vision diverges from Toffler's. For Waterman, the adhocracy is a temporary tactic deployed within, and reliant on, an existing bureaucracy.

As we know, Waterman's call to resist downsizing was ignored; by 2000, companies were outsourcing all but their core functions. Yet, I would argue, adhocracies did flourish outside of and between organizations—in great part because they were no longer forcibly layered over bureaucratic organizations. But that's an argument I'll develop elsewhere.

Reading :: Tricks of the Trade

Tricks of the Trade: How to Think about Your Research While You're Doing It
By Howard S. Becker

Howard Becker, one of the more famous members of the Chicago School of Sociology, published this book in 1998. As the title suggests, it's full of the "tricks" of qualitative research that Becker learned the hard way—first by performing his own studies, later by teaching his students how to do the same. "These tricks," he explains, "... are ways of thinking about what we know or want to know that help us make sense of data and formulate new questions based on what we've found" (p.5).

Becker, that is, gives us ideas and answers that don't appear in standard qualitative research textbooks. And for good or ill, his book isn't written as a textbook either: it's written in a narrative, perhaps even rambling, style that is easy to enjoy but hard to skim. The great advantage to it is that we get a fully fleshed idea of how each "trick" works. So, rather than simply describing the "null hypothesis trick" (p.20), Becker sets up the problem of stereotyping and overgeneralization with several pages of description, then introduces the trick as a way to identify, doubt, and investigate those stereotypes and overgeneralizations.

Becker describes these tricks, not just from his own research, but from other sociologists as well (I was impressed by how he used Latour to make a couple of points). And because his style is the way it is, the reader almost feels as if she or he is having a conversation with Becker—not a lecture, but maybe a conversation over a beer after the lecture. It reminded me a bit of Bateson. If you're looking to pick up some tricks—whether you're an experienced researcher or a student—definitely pick up this book.

Reading :: Tales of the Field

Tales of the Field: On Writing Ethnography, Second Edition
By John Van Maanen

During my Q&A at a recent conference, someone characterized my research (again) as ethnography, and I clarified that I considered it a case study approach. It's not that I'm against ethnography, it's that (a) I'm not trained as an ethnographer and (b) I'm much more interested in bounded activities than in culture per se, which is what ethnography studies.

Still, I'm interested in the perspectives of ethnographers, so I've been working on (a). And for that goal, reading John Van Maanen's Tales of the Field was useful, although not world-changing.

Van Maanen's book describes developments in ethnography by focusing on the styles and narrative conventions that ethnographies use—an approach that is potentially quite interesting for writing scholars. He traces ethnography from its beginning in "realist tales" (based in naive empiricism) to "confessional tales" (in which ethnographers woke up to their ethnocentric and cultural biases) to "impressionist tales" (in which ethnographers sought to delight readers with their impressions of the field, giving up on an objectivist account and rather describing things through the ethnographer's eyes).

These shifts in style, he demonstrates, develop in tandem with ethnographers' theoretical stances. That is, in describing style changes, Van Maanen also describes how ethnography has developed theoretically, methodologically, and ethically from its inception to the present day.

If you're interested in ethnography, certainly give it a look.

Reading :: The Anatomy of Persuasion

The Anatomy of Persuasion
By Norbert Aubuchon

For years, I've been using Rich Freed's book Writing Winning Business Proposals in my proposal writing classes and seminars. But someone recently recommended this book, which is used in UT's MA in Technology Commercialization and elsewhere, so I thought I'd check it out.

How is it? I would compare this book with Freed's, but in some ways it's an apples-and-oranges comparison. Even though both books address proposals, even though the resulting proposals have roughly the same structure, and even though the approaches are both methodical, the results are actually quite different documents.

Freed's book addresses proposals in general, but consulting proposals in particular. And these proposals can be insight, planning, or implementation proposals. For these reasons and others, the proposals tend to be long—the example used throughout the book is perhaps eight pages, and Freed clarifies that such proposals can run into the hundreds of pages. Since Freed's book is written based on his work with a consulting firm, the proposals have a heavy focus on problem-solving: they explain how the proposer will go about solving the unique, often ill-defined problem that the client faces.

Aubuchon's book, on the other hand, describes sales proposals, and specifically what Freed would call implementation proposals: Proposals in which the proposer has a ready-made solution. One of the examples, for instance, is a client who needs a new computer system. The salesperson has a system that can meet that need, and just has to describe it. Although Aubuchon's proposal does involve problem-solving, that problem-solving is in terms of how to write the proposal—not how the proposer will go about solving the client's problem, which in this case is fairly clear-cut. The rhetorical situation may not be any less complex, but Aubuchon's proposals carry less of an explanatory burden, so they wind up being 1-2 pages.

Despite those differences, the two books—Aubuchon's book was originally published in 1997, Freed's in 1995—take a fairly similar approach to examining persuasive factors, defining an objective, structuring the proposal, and "debugging" (Aubuchon) or "reconciling" (Freed) the proposal logic. Reading one against the other is fascinating, and together, they helped me gain a different perspective on the range of proposals one might write.

If you're interested in writing proposals, check it out.

TIMN and the Competing Values Network

For the last few years, I've been thinking about David Ronfeldt's TIMN framework, in which he discusses how four basic forms of human organization—tribes, institutions, markets, and networks—developed and how they are advantaged under different sociotechnical conditions. Lately I've been trying to use TIMN as a way to help me better understand adhocracies, which Toffler introduced as a counterpoint to bureaucracies. To put it loosely, bureaucracies are to institutions as adhocracies are to networks.

Together, these led me to Quinn and Cameron's Competing Values Framework, in which the authors characterize organization culture along the dimensions of stability v. flexibility and internal v external focus. They label the four quadrants Clan, Hierarchy, Market, and Adhocracy—labels that seem very similar to Ronfeldt's Tribes, Institutions, Markets, and Networks.

I emailed Ronfeldt about this, and he courteously revised his 2009 post comparing TIMN with other analysts' tables. This is a resource to which I'll be returning again and again as I develop my own understanding of organizational forms; if you're similarly interested, check it out.

Special issue of Written Communication: Methodologies for the Study of Written Communication II

I've mentioned that I'm coediting a TCQ special issue on research methodologies in technical communication. But it's not the only game in town. Written Communication is also gathering a special issue entitled "Methodologies for the Study of Written Communication II: Inherent methodological tensions and new analytic strategies for the study of writing." It looks terrific. If you're working on research methodologies, check it out.

Apply to our MA in Human Dimensions of Organizations

I've been discussing our nascent MA in HDO for a while, but now the application page is up.

Here's the degree description from the linked page:

A Graduate Degree for the Modern Professional 

The leaders of tomorrow need to be well versed in methods for understanding the people around them.  The core of the HDO Master of Arts degree provides training in identifying and solving organizational problems. This professional graduate degree is designed specifically for local, national, and international leaders in the business and nonprofit sectors. For that reason, all HDO courses emphasize the real-world applications of the humanities, social sciences, and behavioral sciences. Each graduate course provides depth in an area of study as well as practical exercises that demonstrate how to use this knowledge in everyday settings. 

HDO’s degree program leverages the core knowledge within the Liberal Arts to instill in students a thorough understanding of the people they interact with everyday, be that interaction face-to-face, virtual, or through outreach and marketing. This cutting-edge degree will improve its students’ abilities to lead, manage, and innovate.

This is an exciting MA designed around the needs of the working professional:

We expect that most HDO graduate students will be employed full time. In fact, the ideal student is one with 5 to 10 years of professional experience. Because of the high demands placed on employed students, HDO organizes its coursework to allow students to balance work and education. 

This 18-month (4-semester) degree is offered as a weekend program. Each semester will begin with an intensive week on campus followed by biweekly Friday and Saturday course meetings. We will also offer distance education by way of videoconferencing for those unable to commute to UT Austin. 

As students graduate from HDO, they will join the ranks of the esteemed alumni of The University of Texas at Austin. The program promises a high-quality alumni network only available through one of the largest, finest universities in the United States. 

Take a look. And if this sounds like you, I hope you can join us!

Proposal writing seminar, part deux

Early this summer, I offered a daylong seminar on proposal writing. It was based on Freed, Freed, and Romano's Writing Winning Business Proposals, Third Edition and materials I've developed over the last fifteen years of teaching this proposal methodology.

People liked the seminar. A lot. So I'll be offering it again on November 30. It'll be a great way to shake off the tryptophan after Thanksgiving.

Interested? Sign up here: http://sites.la.utexas.edu/hdo/seminars/writing-persuasive-business-proposals/

Coworking in Austin: One Year Later

I stopped collecting data on my coworking research project in February 2011, and published my article on it earlier this year. But coworking is still going strong in Austin. The following spaces have opened since I stopped data collection:

• CapitalFactory (which has been active as a startup incubator since 2009 but is now managing a coworking space/tech startup campus)
• Center61
• HubAustin
• Make + Shift
• Plug & Play
• Vuka Co-op

And Cospace has expanded to Cedar Park and Steiner Ranch.

More at the Austin coworking spaces map.

Remember the call for papers, TCQ special issue on contemporary research methodologies in technical communication

A while back I mentioned that Brian McNely, Christa Teston and I will be editing a TCQ special issue on research methodology. Here's the CFP.

Now, I know you're all going to want to submit something. If you have questions, Brian's our main contact. He's expecting your paper proposal by February 15, 2013, so don't be late!

The Dinkey

Just a little reminiscing:


In the first semester of my Ph.D. at Iowa State University, I noticed something very odd. The morning classes started right on the hour, as you would expect them to. For instance, Monday classes ran at 9, 10, and 11. But at noon, classes shifted to 10 minutes past the hour: 12:10, 1:10, 2:10, and so forth. I had never seen this sort of schedule before, and I’ve never seen it since.

Of course, the undergraduates at Iowa State thought that this schedule was completely normal—just the way things were done. But many of the other graduate students, like me, had done our undergraduate work somewhere else. We knew that this was weird.

Finally, a few semesters in, I found out why. One of my fellow graduate students had worked in the university archives, and had turned up the answer.

“Oh,” he told me offhandedly, “It’s because of the Dinkey.”

I had never heard of it. “What on earth is the Dinkey?”

The Dinkey, he told me, was a small steam train that had connected the Iowa State campus with downtown Ames. For a nominal fare, students and faculty could ride the Dinkey to and from town. It ran about every two hours, arriving on campus right about the top of the hour. So, he explained, faculty and students would sometimes catch the Dinkey, ride into town for lunch, then come back for afternoon classes. The extra 10 minutes were just enough time for these riders to jump off the train and hurry to class.

“But Scott,” I pointed out, “there’s no more Dinkey.”

“Nope,” he replied. “They decommissioned it during World War II.” It had been over fifty years since the Dinkey had made its last run, and Iowa State’s schedule was still built around it.

Writing :: Genre and generic labor

Spinuzzi, C. (2012). Genre and generic labor. In C. Bazerman, C. Dean, J. Early, K. Lunsford, S. Null, P. Rogers, and A. Stansell (Eds.), International Advances in Writing Research: Cultures, Places, Measures. Perspectives on Writing. Fort Collins, Colorado: The WAC Clearinghouse and Parlor Press. Available at http://wac.colostate.edu/books/wrab2011/

This is the third in my ongoing series on writing publications. Unlike the first two, this one is in an open-access publication. So if you like, you can download the PDF right now, skim the publication, and come back.

All right? This is a somewhat unusual piece for me in that it's based on a previously published study, my 2010 Written Communication piece. As I was preparing for the 2011 Writing Research Across Borders conference, I had been thinking through several issues: (a) the readings I had recently done by Castells and others about labor and organization; (b) how those readings might interact with genre theory; and (c) how to deal with automated texts. To help me with these, I used an existing case rather than starting a new study. The exercise turned out to be fairly rewarding.

In fact, I ended up revamping and extending this presentation for the Genre 2012 conference. There, I told the audience that I was still flogging this study, published in 2010, for the same reason that many of us end up eating turkey sandwiches for a week after Christmas.

Anyway. Let's talk a bit about the argument and what's behind it.

The Gist and Development
The chapter, as I indicate above, is a think piece. As I looked back over my previous attempts to characterize genre, I notice that I tended to place them on a continuum, which might be characterized as official-unofficial or stable-flexible or etc. Others working within the tradition of North American genre theory have tended to do the same thing, largely because we're all drawing on Bakhtin.

But the problem with a continuum is that it only represents a single dimension. As I began reading works such as Castells' The Internet Galaxy, I began to realize that it addressed issues I had noticed in my studies but hadn't described well—specifically, issues involving handing off processes to texts. For instance, in my first book, I wrote quite a bit about how the traffic accident database ALAS automated texts and tasks that had previously been generated manually. But there and elsewhere, I had lumped in automation with the official-unofficial distinction. Castells' work—especially his distinction between self-programmable and generic labor—seemed to handle the issue more precisely.

So the next step was to figure out how to put these two insights into dialogue. To do this, I drew on the recent study as a thought experiment:

• Could I synthesize them, layering the self-programmable/generic distinction over the unofficial/official one? Not really: they were getting at different things. 
• Could I substitute one for the other? Again, not really. As I compared them, I realized that each provided different insights.
• Could I treat them as two different distinctions, two "dimensions" along which I could characterize given genres? Why, yes, I could.

The result was Table 5 on p.500, which really helped me to figure out these distinctions and narrow down exactly what I was trying to say. Although this table comes late in the paper, it was really the germ from which the rest of the argument grew.

The Cycles

But I soon realized that characterizing genres along two dimensions, although a contribution, wasn't enough to anchor an argument. Theoretically, it didn't do enough. Practically—well, to be blunt, it didn't fill the pages. And let's face it, length is a motivating factor. (Although most of the time I feel  pressure in the opposite direction, having to edit down my work.) So, I thought, what can I do to fill this argument out a bit?

Fortunately, Bakhtin and Castells are both concerned with development, which is also a strong theme in my own work. So, once I disentangled these two dimensions of analysis, I began thinking through how they developed. And these became figures 1 and 2.

Figure 1, the official-unofficial piece, was easy. After all, I had written about the issue of genre development in my dissertation, although not with such brevity. So it didn't take too long to sketch a reasonable figure on butcher paper in my kitchen. (Lately I've found that when doing conceptual work, I tend to get more traction with big pieces of paper.)

And once I set up Figure 1, I had an easier time putting together Figure 2, based on Castells' work. Figure 2 is modeled after Figure 1, which limits its format and focuses the insights that it might provide. At the same time, it is based on all the sources in Table 4; I didn't just shoehorn my impressions into a ready, compatible format. At least, I don't think I did. See what you think.

The Process

As you might imagine, writing a theoretical piece like this one is different from writing up a study. The theoretical piece has to be

• internally consistent, following consistent internal logic with consistent premises.
• consistent with the literature, accountable to everything cited in the piece.
• consistent with the examples, in this case, the Written Communication piece.

Putting it that way makes a theory piece seem very complex and difficult to manage. But in practice,  these different sorts of consistencies make a theoretical piece much easier to write. That's because they cross-check each other: they provide different sorts of limitations or boundaries that, together, describe the shape of the theoretical contribution. 

For that reason, this argument turned out to be very easy to put together. But that's because 

• I consciously tried to establish consistencies across the different parts of the argument. 
• I had a thorough knowledge of both sets of the literature—and I was also diligent about looking up and providing cites to establish the major points.
• I had a well-suited extended example that I could use to double-check the results.

The Result

So that's the story with this piece. I'm fairly happy with it, although it's still a bit new and exploratory, and the line of thinking will undoubtedly develop further. But see what you think, and feel free to talk back in the comments.