Power (and HRM)

The Dynamic of the Power Debate

(drawing upon S. Lukes, Power; A Radical View)

The debate on power moves from:

1. the study of overt behaviour (e.g. open conflicts between individuals or groups over valued resources) to

2. the study of overt and covert behaviour (analysis of how the terrain of the conflict is determined which excludes some issues from being contested) to

3. the study of behaviour is which conflict is assumed to be latent (e.g. analysis of the rules of the game through which the sides of the argument are constructed, and the social processes through which it proceeds are decided)

The assumption of 2., and especially 3., is that analyses of power based upon 1. fail to appreciate adequately the institutionalised nature of the relationships through which behaviour is expressed and acts of power are attributed. It is insufficient simply to identify particular social positions (e.g. manager) as `powerful' without consideration of how these positions have been, and continue to be, institutionalised. As Berger and Luckman have argued

`It is impossible to understand an institution (e.g. managerial prerogative) adequately without an understanding of the historical process in which it was produced'.

In 2., it is assumed that:

(i) there is a clear distinction to be made between those who are either advantaged or disadvantaged by the limiting of the terrain of issues to be debated and that

(ii) the disadvantaged must be powerless because if they did have any power they would use it to raise issues pertinent to their interests.

It is not contemplated that `the powerless' might actually be educated to accept and value, at least in part, the limitation of the terrain (see P. Freire, The Pedagogy of the Oppressed). It is not contemplated that the terrain might be defined in a particular way not because of their powerlessness but, rather, because of their active support or at least collusion (albeit tacit or grudging) in reproducing the power-knowledge regime.

 In 3., the argument of 2. is taken a step further by suggesting that

(i) there may indeed by support from `the powerless' for the exclusion of issues which are pertinent to their interests, but where this is so, it is because

(ii) grievances have been obscured and their wants have been shaped in a way that silences their capacity to identify and express their interests.

`To assume that the absence of grievance equals genuine consensus is simply to rule out the possibility of false and manipulated consensus by definitional fiat' (Lukes)

In contrast with 2., the possibility that `the powerless' might value the limitation of the terrain is contemplated. But their `real', objective interests are understood to differ from their expressed preferences. It is argued that these preferences must have been manipulated or distorted by those who are in a position to shape their preferences. So, in this conception of power, it is argued that:

1. At the most obvious level (the first dimension), power is expressed in overt conflict resulting in one party winning.

2. At a rather less obvious level (the second dimension), power involves the covert setting of agendas so that there is overt conflict only on some issues although there is a sense of grievance and frustration about what is excluded from such agendas.

3. At the deepest level, power involves the manipulation of wants so that there is no sense or expression of grievance. Nonetheless, there is a potential for latent conflict to erupt if the forces that suppress and manipulate the definition and expression of interests are disrupted or fail to operate.

Beyond the Third Conception of Power

The major advance of 3. over 2. is that it stimulates reflection upon the question of how wants/ interests are socially constructed. In 2., the wants of individuals/ groups are unproblematical - they are either expressed as their wants or are frustrated by being excluded from decision-making arenas. What 1. and 2. share is the understanding that individuals are in control of, and responsible for, their own wants even if they find it difficult, on occasion, to articulate them when and where it counts. In 3., in contrast, attention is given to the question of how the wants of individuals, etc. are shaped historically by other groups as well as - indeed, more than - by themselves.

The major problem with 3. is that it assumes a priori knowledge of the real, objective interests of particular individuals, groups or classes in society. The analyst assumes that s/he has privileged access to the `real interests' of these individuals/ groups/ classes; and that s/he knows the real interests to be different from the interests of those who exercise power. This knowledge leads the analyst to believe that:

The semblance of consensus between groups with different real interests must be the outcome of coercion rather than agreement (see previous quote).

The conflict between espoused and real interests is latent.

Underpinning these beliefs are the assumptions that:

Power is a zero-sum game in which one group exercises power over another group

Power operates `behind the backs' of those are subjugated by it.

A number of (constructive) critiques have sought to avoid the a priori ascription of objective interests made by 3. without slipping back into 2.. For example, Hindess has argued that there are `many axes of struggle' (e.g. gender as well as class) which cannot be reduced to one set of objective interests. Each person is recognised to be a dynamic site of multiple identities with associated interests. But he does not explore the site of these struggles : subjectivity.

Subjectivity and Power

Power and subjectivity are related in two ways. First, human subjectivity is power-full in the sense that it is endowed with the creative capacity to transform the world. Human nature differs in degree, if not in kind, from other forms of Nature by virtue of its openness to the world, an openness which arises from the comparative absence of instinctual programming. This openness provides a space in which the social or cultural world develops - a world which is shaped much less by `natural instinct' than by `cultural convention'. The kind of person we become - the contents of our subjectivity (and its interpretation by others) - is much more dependent upon the socio-cultural formation in which our sense of reality (including our sense of self) develops than upon our natural endowments or habitat. `While it is possible to say that man has a nature, it is more significance to say that man constructs his own nature, or more simply, that man produces himself' (Berger and Luckman, 1966 : 67).

Subjectivity and Labour

However, in order to develop as cultural beings, it is necessary to survive as natural, material beings. This is the assumption (`philosophical anthropology') that underpins Marx's theory of human development. This will be explored further in the lecture on labour process theory. However, because Marx's ideas have direct relevance for Lukes' third dimension of power and for the management of human resources (HRM), it is relevant to provide a brief review.

Human existence, Marx argues, `is, first of all, a process between man and nature' in which through acts of labour `he appropriates the materials of nature in a form adapted to his own needs'. According to Marx's materialist philosophy, human creativity arises in response to the desire to satisfy needs, needs which have their basis in our material dependence upon nature but which are also culturally defined (i.e vary according to time and place) and therefore historically relative.

For human beings desire and behaviour are mediated by socially conditioned purposes and lines of action. That is to say, experiences are interpreted and purposes are fashioned. We experience cultural phenomena (e.g. the meaning conveyed by language, relations of production), and not just natural ones (e.g. sounds, combination of material and human resources). For Marx, the satisfaction of human needs (however these needs are socially defined, see above) involves a productive process in which three elements are combined:

1. Purposeful activity

2. Raw materials

3. Tools, machinery, etc

In order to be productive, human beings are obliged to channel/ subordinate their will in a direction which is consistent with the realisation of human purpose. The less the person is attracted by the work, Marx argues, `the closer his attention is forced to be'. The key issue, for Marx, is how the labour process is organised and controlled. Do the workers control how the elements are combined? Do they enjoy the maximum scope for the `free play of their mental and physical powers?

Marx's answer, of course, is `No' - at least, in the context of capitalist society where the purpose of productive activity is not determined by the workers. In this mode of production, workers do not decide which raw materials they will use or the tools and machinery which they apply to produce goods and services. In terms of Lukes' conceptual framework, we can say that this exclusion of workers from decisions over the use of tools and machinery exemplifies the second dimension of power. For Marx, this exclusion is no accident. Nor, for him, can it be plausibly explained in terms of what is necessary to achieve the most effective or efficient use of resources.

The exclusion of workers from key decision-making processes is viewed as the outcome of a struggle in which capitalists have appropriated control of the labour process from workers in order that the material and symbolic advantages (e.g. unearned income, status) accruing to the capitalist can be secured and reproduced. Control of the means of production and of the labour process, underwritten by the might of the (capitalist) state which legitimises the private ownership of the means of subsistence, ensures that what is produced is the property of the capitalist, and not of the worker. In turn, this control allows the capitalist to appropriate to himself the surplus (profit) - that is, the surplus that remains when the costs of production and distribution (e.g. wages, raw materials, plant and machinery, advertising, delivery, etc.) have been met. In principle, the capitalist (or his agents e.g. managers) make sure that production is organised and controlled in a way that is profitable. Participation or `involvement' by workers is countenanced only if it is anticipated that it poses no threat to this control or to the managerial prerogative that secures it.

Here we can return to Lukes' third conception of power which, as he himself points out, is strongly associated with radical (e.g. neo-Marxist) thought. Lukes writes:

`The radical...maintains that men's wants may themselves be a product of a system which works against their interests, and, in such cases, relates the latter to what they would want and prefer, were they able to make the choice'

Lukes' thesis echoes that of Marx insofar as it assumes that capitalism works against the interests of workers and that they would favour an alternative system if they were free to do so. The reason for this, according to Marx, is either that the nature of work in capitalist society places socially unnecessary constraints upon the free play of workers' mental and physical powers and/or that there is systematic exploitation insofar as an element of the value which they produce is expropriated from them.

There are a number of difficulties with this argument:

1. It is questionable whether an appeal to `the free play' of human powers is consistent with the recognition that `man ... simultaneously changes his own nature' when (s)he acts upon the materials of nature. If human nature is `changed' in this process, then the play of human power is never `free'. A more consistent formulation of this tension would focus upon the presence of contradictory changes in human nature : the presence of contradictions in the construction of subjectivity in social relations (e.g. in capitalist society) which contain the potential for change.

2. It is questionable whether a system which is identified as exploitative from a formal, politico-economic standpoint is necessarily in opposition to the interests of those who work within it. Lukes himself recognises that this conception of interests is `normatively specific' but he offers no discussion or justification of his ascription of `real interests' to individuals/ groups/ classes. In principle, it is quite possible for an individual, a group or even a class to recognise that they are being exploited in the way Marx critiques without considering it to be adverse to their interests. How can this be? Perhaps because they do not believe that their interests, as interpreted by them, would be better served under some alternative system; or perhaps because capitalism allows them to do what they want to do, even though it may be exploitative. In other words, they understand their subjectivity to be more supported and sustained by capitalism than undermined or denied by it.

In response to this, Marx and certainly Lukes would argue that the beliefs and wants of such people are, in effect, manipulated (see earlier quote). The basic problem with this argument, to repeat, is that it assumes that privileged access to true consciousness/ real interests is possible, at least for the (enlightened) analyst.

Does this mean that power can be adequately analysed by reference to its two dimensions alone? Not if it is accepted that all forms of belief are the product of power-knowledge relations. This undercuts the contention that some forms of consensus are manipulated whereas others are free of manipulation. But it does not rule out the possibility, even the likelihood, that some conditions facilitate or even promote critical reflection upon beliefs in a way that others do not.

In which case, it is necessary to recognise that there are situations where the manipulation of consensus is more readily accomplished than others. To be more specific, different cultures and different organizations may differentially enable individuals to acquire the material and symbolic resources necessary to participate effectively in processes of externalising rather than simply reproducing existing objectivations (Berger and Luckman, 1966). This is not simply a matter of inequality of access to opportunities within the existing structure of resources. Rather, it is differential access in determining what structure it should be and even in differential awareness that this structure is socially constructed, not objectively given.

Marx believed that an increased awareness of the socially constructed nature of capitalism would develop amongst the working class as a consequence of the contradictory operation of capitalism as an economic system (e.g. deskilling and homogenisation of labour). He anticipated that the experience of labour would be so immiserating and degrading as to demonstrate the veracity of (his) radical ideas.

'Along with the constant decrease in the number of capitalist magnates, who usurp and monopolise all the advantages of this process of transformation, the mass of misery, oppression, slavery, degradation and exploitation grows; but with this there also grows the revolt of the working class, a class constantly increasing in numbers, and trained, united and organised by the very mechanism of the capitalist process of production'

Consistent with his philosophical anthropology (see above), Marx assumed that the subjectivity of human beings would be constituted primarily by their experience in the labour process. His materialistic philosophy of labour, it will be recalled, directs his analytical attention almost exclusively to the mediation of human beings and nature and, more specifically, to the sphere in which human beings process the raw materials of nature to produce useful goods or services (`use-values' as Marx calls them). The existence and appeal of other spheres - such as consumption or religion is acknowledged - but their importance to workers is marginalised or dismissed.

Because he expected that workers would be forced to live on the poverty line, his discussion of their consumption is very thin. Apart from stressing the cultural mediation and relativity of human needs, he stressed that material subsistence was what drove workers to relinquish their control over (craft) production to capitalists. Concerning the sphere of religion, Marx anticipated that the rationalising forces of capitalism would systematically grind down the plausibility of such `opiums'. Capitalism, he writes,

`has drowned the most heavenly ecstasies of religious fervour, of chivalrous enthusiasm, of philistine sentimentalism, in the icy water of egotistical calculation. It has resolved personal worth into exchange value, and in place of the numberless indefeasible chartered freedoms, has set up that single, unconscionable freedom - Free Trade. In one word, for exploitation, veiled by religious and political illusions, it has substituted naked, shameless, brutal exploitation'

Arguably, what Marx failed to appreciate is that :

1. The subjectivity of human beings is constituted in a variety of spheres, not just work

2. The importance attached to these spheres is influenced, but not determined, by experience in the sphere of work

3. The key to understanding the appeal of particular ideas (e.g. Marxism, feminism) and engagement in practices (e.g. unionisation, struggles against male chauvinism) is to be found in the tensions between (and within) different spheres in which subjectivity is constituted. Ideas and practices are engaged because they are perceived/experienced to provide some response to these tensions - either by suppressing them or by releasing them.

Above all, Marx failed to grasp fully the significance of culture (see lecture notes on culture and symbolism). Culture is important not just because it enables human beings to communicate and cooperate in producing to satisfy (socially defined) needs. It is important also because it is a necessary condition of self-consciousness : the ability to make experience an object of knowledge.

Of course, Marx recognised that human labour involves self-consciousness insofar as it requires purposive direction of the mind and body. As Marx puts it, the human being engaged in labour `subjects the play of its forces to his own sovereign power' and, in this way, the labourer `simultaneously changes his own nature'. But Marx's concentration upon labour performed for payment to meet subsistence needs leads him to overlook how forms of self-consciousness, and of `sovereign power', are also constituted in other contexts which may be of equal of greater importance to the person than the experience of the sphere of labour.

Relatedly, Marx disregarded the possibility of gaining security from forms of work that are routine and undemanding, or are even `demeaning' in terms of their limited requirement for `purposive activity'. His assumption is that where labour does not allow the free play of physical and mental powers, it will require greater forcing of attention upon the task. He does not anticipate the possibility of undemanding, repetitive work being actively sought because it does not require the continuous mobilisation of such powers. In undertaking such comparatively undemanding tasks, an alternative subjectivity can actually be preserved through distancing and creative daydreaming. Paradoxically, work which requires more discretion and responsibility can produce greater deprivation or `flattening' of experience than work which is routine and, in the absence of such strategies, intensely boring.

Towards a Relational Perspective on Power

It follows from this critique of Marx's conception of the labour process that an understanding of power requires an appreciation of :

(i) its socio-historical aspect

(ii) its existential aspect

(iii) the interdependence of (i) and (ii)

The socio-historical aspect:

The socio-historical aspect concerns the power that is derived from the institutional position of individuals. For example, there is differential access amongst employees to corporate resources which can be used to motivate and regulate the behaviour of others. For example, a person in a position to award or withhold bonuses or promotion may be able `to carry out his will despite resistance' (Weber). This aspect also includes resistance from subordinates who in response to such pressures may mobilise their limited resources to remind the relatively powerful of their dependence upon the relatively powerless.

The socio-historical aspect has been the major focus in studies of power. However, as the debate has developed, more attention has been given to the embededness of decision-makers in social institutions. Their position within social institutions is seen to enable them to exclude issues from discussion or to distort and suppress real interests.

The existential aspect:

The existential aspect concerns the capacity of (self-conscious) human beings to act autonomously/ creatively, and to the problems associated with self-consciousness. Marx (see above) rightly emphasised creativity as a distinguishing feature of human beings : `What distinguishes the worst architect from the best of bees is that the architect builds the cell in his mind before he constructs it in wax'. The limitation of Marx's formulation is that it is so very closely identified with making things. Power is defined exclusively in terms of the ability to produce goods and services. If an individual does not own the means of production and has little or no control over the three elements of the labour process (see above), then s/he is considered to be powerless. Marx's notion of power, and powerlessness, is primarily (perhaps entirely) socio-historical : the power of the individual is determined by his/her position in society. And, in Marx's analysis, this position is itself defined in terms of their ownership/control of the means of production rather in terms of some social institution (e.g. religion, family, leisure) which may be more meaningful/ subjectively important to the individual.

However, the existential aspect is not concerned with revising or refining socio-historical analyses of power. Instead, it points to an understanding of power which is presumed and then neglected in such analysis. It is presumed because it is understood to be a condition of the very possibility of institutions. Without some degree of autonomy from the instinctual demands of nature, it would be impossible to construct society (see Berger and Luckman and above). But this power it is also neglected when little or no account is taken of the significance of self-consciousness for historical development. In Marxism, for example, there has been a tendency to dismiss existentialism and psychoanalysis as forms of bourgeois ideology on the grounds that they focus upon the individual to the neglect of the constitution of individuals within historical institutions.

The interdependence of socio-historical and existential aspects:

The interdependence of the socio-historical and existential aspects is evident in: (i) the way institutions promote or impede autonomy/ creativity and (ii) the way autonomy/ creativity is critical for the reproduction of institutions. For example, it draws attention to the existential significance of the stimulation of individualism and `egotistical calculation' (see earlier quote from Marx) in capitalist society. The effect of this, as Durkheim recognised, is to generate increased insecurity associated with an erosion of (mechanical) solidarity. With the loss of moral and institutional certainties, the individual becomes increasingly vulnerable to any identity which seems to provide a sense of meaning and security. This is the `need' which has been fastened upon first by `Human Relations' thinking and, more recently and in a more systematic way, by the advocates of Strong Corporate Cultures in which, we are told,

`a set of shared values and rules about discipline, details, and execution can provide the framework in which practical autonomy takes place routinely...By offering meaning as well as money, (excellent companies) give their employees as mission as well as a sense of feeling great. Every man becomes a pioneer, an experimenter, a leader. The institution provides guiding belief and creates a sense of excitement, a sense of being a part of the best, a sense of producing something of quality that is generally valued'

Corporate Culture gurus assert that each individual employee can feel more powerful - can become `a pioneer, an experimenter, a leader' by complying with the `shared values and rules' of the Culture. There is an appeal to the desire for autonomy which, it is suggested, can be fulfilled by identifying with (and preferably internalising) the values and rules of the Corporation (see lecture notes on organizational culture and symbolism).

What is fundamentally problematical about this, from a socio-historical perspective is that the values and rules are not determined, or controlled by, the people who are required to adopt them. Insofar as they are adopted, their effects can be analysed in terms of the 2nd and 3rd dimensions of power (see above). For example, we can see how certain issues (i.e. those which are not addressed by or congruent with the Cultural values and rules) are removed from the (political) agenda. Moreover, from the perspective of the 3rd dimension, it may be argued that `acceptance' of these values and rules arises from (historically conditioned) processes of individualisation that render workers vulnerable to `settle' for a well paid job rather than struggle to develop more democratic and autonomous forms of work organization.

Beyond Dualistic Conceptions of Power

What we might say, then, is that the social reproduction of corporations depends upon the institutionalised exclusion of the capacity, opportunity and desire to reflect critically upon, and make a choice between, alternative values and rules. To use the language of existentialism, we may say that this reproduction depends upon `bad faith'. However, whereas the 3rd dimension of power argument stresses how this is deliberately manipulated, attention to subjectivity suggests that it is a largely an unintended consequence of the conjuncture of the (universal) anxieties associated with the openness of human existence and (socio-historical) insecurity associated with the development of capitalism in which individualism is so strongly promoted.

This insight into the relationship between the socio-historical and existential aspects of power draws attention to the possibility of a new focus for the study of power that has its concern the conditions that foster power that facilitates `freedom to', as contrasted with power that seeks to achieve `freedom from'. In each of Lukes' three dimensions of power, the concern is with how power is exercised by one individual or group to gain `freedom from' another group. In the first dimension, this is achieved through the monopolisation and skilful use of resources; in the second dimension, it is achieved through the skilful control of agendas; and in the third dimension, `freedom from' the threat of resistance is pursued by manipulating others' wants and choices.

An alternative to conceptualising power in terms of achieving `freedom from' is to think of it in relation to the conditions that facilitate `freedom to'. To do this, it is necessary to abandon the assumption that the individual is separate from nature or society. For despite the existential openness of human existence which forbids a deterministic relationship between human beings and nature/society, there remains a fundamental (inter) dependence upon the natural and social world. The delusion of individualism, and the associated struggle to achieve `freedom from' this dependence, is that the interdependency is disregarded if it is not denied. It is the removal of this delusion that Pirsig characterises as the experience of Quality (which may be compared by the commodified conception of quality advanced by Peters and Waterman in the previous quote).

`Quality takes you out of yourself, makes you aware of the world around you...When traditional rationality divides the world into subjects and objects it shuts out Quality, and when you're really stuck it's Quality, not any subjects or objects, that tells you where you ought to go'

With more direct relevance for the study of power, power as the quality of `freedom to' is what Castaneda encounters when apprenticed to don Juan. His entire apprenticeship can be interpreted as a removal of the baggage of `bad faith' - of values and rules which Castaneda has simply taken on as a means of making himself feel more secure or more wanted - of gaining a sense of `freedom from' that dulls and inhibits the experience of `freedom to'. What develops as these layers of protective clothing are removed, don Juan argues, is `personal power'.

More specifically, the removal of `bad faith' - in the form of all sorts of (unexamined) preconceptions about himself and the nature of reality -enabled Castaneda to live - to experience his humanity more directly - without the mediation of thoughts and feelings that he had acquired in the process of developing and defending his taken for granted (institutionalised) sense of self. As don Juan, his teacher, stressed the purpose of the apprenticeship was not to `achieve' and commodify the experience of `freedom to' as another form of identity (which would amount to `spiritual materialism') but, rather, to relate to the social and natural world in a less confused and contradictory manner. This is illustrated in the following exchange between don Juan and Castaneda:

`Do you know anything about the world around you?', (don Juan) asked.

`I know all kinds of things', I said.

`I mean do you ever feel the world around you?'

`I feel as much of the world around me as I can'.

`That's not enough. You must feel everything, otherwise the world loses its sense'

I voiced the classical argument that I did not have to taste the soup in order to know the recipe, nor did I have to get an electric shock in order to know about electricity.

`You make it sound stupid', he said. `The way I see it, you want to cling to your arguments, despite the fact that they bring nothing to you; you want to remain the same even at the cost of your well-being'

`I don't know what you're talking about'

`I am talking about the fact that you're not complete. You have not peace'

That statement annoyed me. I felt offended. I though he was certainly not qualified to pass judgement on my acts or my personality.

`You're plagued with problems', he said. Why?'

`I'm only a man, don Juan,' I said feebly.

I made that statement in the same vein my father used to make it. Whenever he said he was only a man he implicitly meant he was weak and helpless and his statement, like mine, was filled with an ultimate sense of despair.

Don Juan peered at me as he had done the first day we met.

`You think about yourself too much', he said and smiled. `And that give you a strange fatigue that makes you shut off the world around you and cling to your arguments. Therefore, all you have is problems'.

If the existential aspect of power is to be taken seriously, then the challenge is to develop institutions in which the `personal power' of individuals is enhanced rather than drained. Fromm discusses this prospect by contrasting institutional practices which facilitate `being' with those which encourage `having':

Work Organization and the Management of Human Resources

There is a tendency in organization and management theory to naturalise existing forms of organization and management practice. In don Juan's terminology, management theory cling to conventional wisdom and is strongly inclined to `remain the same even at the cost of well-being'. To this it could be retorted that management theory is continuously innovative and that, far from `bringing nothing' it brings increasing job satisfaction and practical autonomy.

However, this response fails to reflect upon the continuity of assumptions between seemingly diverse forms of management theory. For what they share, above all, is an assumption that the status quo is rational and viable; and that only the refinement of existing methods is relevant and legitimate. Because the legitimacy of the status quo is assumed, basic questions - such as the nature and purpose of human organization - are either unexamined. Reflection is limited to an examination of elements in organizations (or management practice) - such as training - which are seen to be less than optimal in terms of achieving existing objectives whose value is taken for granted. An alternative approach, outlined above, would be to begin with critical reflection upon the question of whether, for example, a `being' or `having' mode of existence is preferable, and then seeking to discover how existing practices may be transformed to facilitate the fulfilment of this preference.

What appears to be happening instead - if one is to take seriously the prescriptions of the gurus of Corporate Culture, Total Quality Management and Human Resource Management, etc. - is an attempt to commodify and mobilise the (neglected) `being' mode of existence in order to reinforce and sustain established forms of `having'. `Being', in the form of self-discipline, is being systematically engineered to expand and legitimise `having'. For example, the emphasis upon Quality (in Total Quality Management and Corporate Culture) is concerned with the quality of products and services, not with the quality of life at work. Moreover, when there is a concern to improve the quality of working life, this concern is driven by a belief that it will gain a competitive advantage- for example, by improving customer service. The effort to `enrich' jobs or induce `a sense of feeling great' is pursued selectively and instrumentally as a means of `having' greater flexibility or a larger share of the market, etc.

From a socio-historical perspective, Human Resource Management (HRM) can be seen as an effort to integrate, in a strategic way, all aspects of the processing of employees within organizations - from recruitment and selection, through training to performance appraisal. Instead of dealing with these piece-meal and somewhat independently of other aspects of business strategy, the claim of HRM (as differentiated from Personnel Management) is to design the package of `processes' around each (type of) employee in a way that supports and reinforces the more general, strategic objectives of the organization. In other words, these processes are rationalised in a way that is intended to fit and fulfil business requirements. Legge provides a summary of the claims made for HRM policies by their advocates :

`that human resources policies should be integrated with strategic business planning and used to reinforce an appropriate (of change an inappropriate) organizational culture, that human resources are valuable and a source of competitive advantage, that they may be tapped most effectively by mutually consistent policies that promote commitment and, which, as a consequence, foster a willingness in employees to act flexibly in the interests of the "adaptive organization's pursuit of excellence"'

The advocates of HRM assume that there is little or no tension between the `needs' of the individual employee and the `needs' of the organization which cannot be reduced, if not eliminated, by the introduction of progressive HRM policies. Disregarded is the potential, if not actual, conflict of interest between buyers and sellers of labour; and the stimulation of (opportunities for) resistance by all forms of management control, however well-meaning or `humanistic' these controls appear to be. Cynically, perhaps, it may be suggested that HRM policies may be tolerated or even enthusiastically embraced so long as they are accompanied by employment security; and that employees' willingness to `change organizational culture' or `act flexibly' is conditional upon this security.

On the other hand, the critics of HRM are inclined to assume that tensions are endemic and therefore that HRM policies cannot achieve the strategic integration which they seek. At best, it is argued, they serve to make managers feel better about themselves by enabling them to use the rhetoric of humanism in their efforts to achieve more effective forms of control and/or resource allocation. Disregarded by these critics is the attraction of HRM policies to employees who may well derive an enhanced sense of security and meaning from the idea and practices associated with the view that `people are our greatest asset'. Consider the following eulogy from a Tupperware salesperson:

`The company gives me great freedom to develop my own approach. There are certain elements that need to be in every party to make it successful, but if those elements are coloured by you, a Tupperware dealer - purple, pink and polka dot, and I prefer it lavender and lace - that's okay. That freedom allows you to be the best you are capable of being'

Here we return to the question of power and, more specifically, the existence of a `third dimension'. In Lukes' terms, we may ask whether the `freedom' given to the Tupperware salesperson does, genuinely, enable him/her `to be the best you are capable of being'. To put the question more directly, is the dedication to the selling of Tupperware achieved by the policy of the company in his/her "real interests"?

Power and HRM

Believers in the third dimension might well argue that the Tupperware salesperson has been manipulated by `society' as well as by the company to equate freedom with the use of discretion to confirm and achieve its values. For such believers, the willingness to do the job - the seeming integration of individual and corporate needs - is manipulated. Because some of the salesperson's actions are not prescribed by the company, there is a sense of freedom - of `freedom from' the rules. However, this overlooks both the way in which the overall structure of the salesperson's activity is prescribed and beyond the control or influence of the salesperson and the way in which freedom is equated with the exercise of minimal discretion whose objective is to fulfil to make the overall structure more effective. It is the presence of prescription that Freire associates with oppression:

`One of the basic elements of the relationship between oppressor and oppressed is prescription. Every prescription represents the imposition of one man's choice upon another, transforming the consciousness of the man prescribed to into one that conforms to the prescriber's consciousness'

In response, those who are more sceptical about the radical, `third dimension' would argue that no one is in a position to provide an authoritative, incontestable view about an individual's "real interests". There are two versions of this viewpoint which I will characterise as `reactionary' and `progressive'.

The `reactionary' position is that each individual is necessarily free to decide what s/he wants. In the example of the Tupperware salesperson, s/he is deemed to have chosen the job she does and the approach to selling that Tupperware have developed. There is therefore no question that doing what s/he does is in his/her "real interests".

The `progressive' position is that every claim about a person's "real interests" (or about who and what they are or what they want, more generally) is developed within a complex of power-knowledge relations. talk of appeals to "real interests", whether these emanate from `radical' or `reactionary' positions are expressive of relations through which individuals become enrolled into life-projects.

For example, if a person become enrolled into what I have termed a `reactionary' power-knowledge relations, the consequence is an orientation to work/life that is comparable to that of the Tupperware salesperson. If, on the other hand, the person is enrolled into a `radical' power-knowledge relation, s/he likely to become something more like reformer or even a revolutionary. But, in each case, the person buys into the understanding that s/he has a real self with "real interests" to fulfil.

The alternative, more sceptical, `progressive' position is that "real interests" are constructed, not given. And therefore that the issue is not whether these interests are being fulfilled but, rather, the conditions - or power-knowledge relations - in which "real interests" are identified (and identified with). More specifically, there is a question about how visible to the person the power-knowledge relations are that constitute their subjectivity; and, relatedly, the degree to which individuals are captured by relations that are invisible to them.

This may sound suspiciously like a return of Lukes' `third dimension'. However, whereas his `radical' position assumes that the function of invisible power relations is to conceal or suppress "real interests", the `progressive' standpoint simply argues that their invisibility impedes choice (and `freedom to') without suggesting that this choice or freedom is necessarily in the individual's "real interests" or more consistent with their "essential" humanity.

A very similar argument is made by Foucault when he talks about truth. By truth, Foucault does not mean objective, unassailable knowledge or even what passes for truth at a particular point in time but may later be falsified. Rather, when he talks about truth, he is referring to the social rules that separate what is deemed to be true from what is deemed to be false and, through the medium of power, the former is privileged over the latter. In his view, the role of the intellectual is to render these rules more visible - not so that `the' true (facts) can be liberated from the relations of power that conceal it but so that a new politics of truth may be created in which the power-knowledge relation is more transparent.

From this perspective, HRM's involvement in the `strengthening' of corporate culture can be seen as mixture of `reactionary' and `radical' elements. It is `reactionary' insofar as it assumes that employees freely enter the employment relationship; and that labour can be sensibly viewed a commodity that is exchanged for wages. But it is also `radical' when it seeks to enrol employees into the values of the corporate culture. In doing so, the intent is to shape or re-form the individual's values by harmonising them with those of the employing organization. Or as Legge puts it,

`it its emphasis on "strong culture", in theory HRM is able to achieve a cohesive workforce but without the attendant dilemma of creating potentially dysfunctional solidarity. For a "strong culture" is aimed at uniting employees through a shared set of managerially sanctioned values ("quality", "service", "innovation", etc.).'

(Finish)

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This site was constructed by Hugh Willmott and was last updated on 02/10/00