Her list being of recent vintage, my own preferences tend to sources that have withstood tests of time -- Niccolo Macchiavelli's "The Prince," published in 1532, for example, or perhaps Sun Tzu's "The Art of War" (c.400 BCE) -- and for pedagogic purposes, I also favor the wisdom available from sources outside the field under scrutiny.
So -- slightly updated from the original as it ran in the International Herald Tribune for January 24, 2004 -- if you had only one guide on corporate behavior and management strategy:
“It's a Catch-22 situation.” Those words, spoken by a French banker at a conference for European business leaders and received with understanding all around, reminded me how deeply Joseph Heller's 1961 novel has penetrated the global business environment.
I have long relied on Heller, and his vision of a military comprising equal parts corrupt self-interest and naïve idealism, as an extended guide to life in any complex system, including business. Periodic re-readings have had more value for me than any of the so-called team-building exercises and mission statements that pass for motivational management these days.
For those unfamiliar with the story of Yossarian the bombardier and his World War II comrades on the Italian island of Pianosa, Catch-22 goes like this: Only a crazy man would fly the murderous late-war missions demanded of the pilots, and flight surgeons had to ground anyone who was crazy. But asking to be grounded showed proof of sanity, which required denial of the request and continued flying.
Caught in an endless loop of twisted logic and bloated bureaucracy, Heller's characters cope as best they can. A testimony to the universality of their experience is that to this day, the same characters can be found at business enterprises, university faculties and professional partnerships the world over:
• Major Major, the persistent but hopelessly mediocre administrator, promoted by those eager to be rid of him. Once made squadron commander, he loses access to his mess hall and basketball buddies, and then makes his isolation complete by ruling that visitors wait outside his office while he is in and be allowed in only when he is out.
• Doc Daneeka, the flight surgeon who refuses to ground anyone who is sane enough to ask for it and who keeps up his combat pay by forging entries in flight logs. After being listed erroneously as a casualty of a plane crash, he lurks unacknowledged outside his own medical tent, losing his pay, his PX privileges and his wife, whose grief at his untimely loss is tempered by full collection of his GI death benefits.
• Colonel Cathcart, pumped with aggressive insecurity and conceited ambition. He indulges his taste for power by continually raising the number of missions that must be flown - often just before a pilot has attained them.
• General Peckem, the noncombatant expert at turf expansion, whose successful ambition to bring bombing operations within his purview at Special Services turns to ashes when command changes to the sycophantic General Scheisskopf, who was promoted from lieutenant on the sole strength of his meaningless memos announcing the postponement of Sunday parades.
Even more than Heller's personalities, the bizarre interactions replay endlessly in corporate corridors and boardrooms - and find eerie echoes in recent events:
The questionable Cayman bank balances of Parmalat or the non-existent securities of a Madoff or the kerfuffle of "mark-to-market" would have been child's play to Milo Minderbinder, the entrepreneurial mess officer who could make a profit on fresh eggs bought in Malta for 7 cents each and sold to the mess halls for 5 cents. (Message to Bob Herz at the Financial Accounting Standards Board: the lowdown on how he did it can be found in Chapter 22.)
The debacles at AIG or Bear Stearns or Long-Term Credit Management could easily have been Milo's operations. The demise of the latter was a hedge fund set up by its Nobel Prize-winning managers, running their highly touted models into the ground with a wrong-way bet on Russian debt. That tracks the universal acclaim the military heaps on Milo's business acumen - until he corners the market in Egyptian cotton that nobody wants, bringing his black-market syndicate to the brink of ruin.
The antics of the equities analysts through the bubble years of the 1990's or the sub-prime mortgage originators of this decade are echoed in the treatment of Chief White Halfoat and his Oklahoma tribe, who have such an affinity for petroleum products that everywhere they seek to settle, the oil companies hit oil, requiring the forced relocation of the tribe. At some point geologists and engineers begin to guess where they will settle next and drill before they arrive, kicking them off the land before they can unroll their blankets.
Heller's characters, at least some of them, survive the insanity by finding ways to stay alive until the end of the war. Corporate managers seeking to cope with a dysfunctional organization may not be so fortunate. But they can at least save the huge fees inflicted by outside gurus and facilitators just by going away for a weekend, each having read "Catch-22" as a homework assignment, and recasting the novel's plot and characters out of the people and events well known to all.
I've done it. It works. As a way of placing the absurdity of the workplace in perspective - and as a starting point for finding solutions - "Catch-22" is an indispensable tool. Or, in the words of Doc Daneeka, "It's the best there is."
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