Saturday 17 October 2015

Storytelling as the ‘Other’ (Part 2)

Puzzles, Puzzling, Piecing. This is like slowly putting together a 5000-piece puzzle. Before the whole picture begins to materialise (is it a gorgeous scenic vista or a magical wonderland?), I have to build the edges. And in this lovely little analogy, the edges are the theory. And since I don’t quite know yet what the puzzle will end up looking like, I suppose it’s more like a Wasgij Puzzle!


In a previous entry, I included this quote: “The theory should illuminate a work, and a work should illuminate a theory” (Rapaport, 2011, p. 9). I would like to explore this claim further, investigating how it can be applied to women’s leadership development. What interpretative method/s could I apply to reading literature so as that the text will effectively illuminate issues surrounding women’s leadership? In this post I will take this question into the theoretical realm of post-structuralism and deconstruction, and consider the potential usefulness of these methods for my analysis.

But before answering this question, I want to take a step back and look at how Badaracco (my original inspiration for this project) has structured his analysis of literature in Questions of Character. As I’ve said before, I do find Badaracco's style to be a little too neat and idealistic, with the main problem being that he focuses on the primacy of the ‘leader;’ a ‘type’ of objective person who fits into a universal definition of ‘leadership.’ He writes: “The basic challenges of leaders appear so widely, perhaps even universally, because they reflect enduring aspects of leadership. One is the humanity of leaders – the hopes and fears, traits and instincts of the human nature we all share. The other is the unchanging agenda, in all times and places: developing a goal…and working with and through people to make it real” (p. 6, emphasis added).

The problem with this approach is that it collapses ‘leadership’, a collective process “which encompasses not only leaders but their followers and the context in which they come into contact, into ‘leaders’, into an individually-based unit of analysis” (Ladkin, 2010, p. 5). Subsequently, this ‘great person’ construct only serves to strengthen the widespread tendency in Western society to idealise leaders, implying that only a select few have the ‘right’ traits to exercise initiative (Gemmill & Oakley, 1992) [Excerpt from my Research Project].

However, I like the way he raises thought-provoking questions by making well-known novels and plays such as Death of a Salesman, Things Fall Apart and The Love of the Last Tycoon speak deeply about moral issues in a business context, substituting the carefully crafted, prosaic business case study with the multi-layered, messy reality of everyday life. 



I’ve chosen to look at Chapter 2: “How flexible is my moral code?” Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, as I’ve recently read this novel (which is excellent by the way! I even managed to get Mitchel to read it). The key question Badaracco poses in this chapter is: “Will my moral code help me make the right decisions for my organisation, even as business conditions change?”

The first thing that Badaracco does is problematize the notion of moral codes and the ‘moral compass,’ asking: Should leaders really be as moral as possible in all situations? To counter this popular supposition, he uses Okonkwo’s tragic story, which, in part, can be blamed on the African leader’s intransigent and uncompromising moral ideals. Badaracco points out that Okonkwo’s death raises a very difficult and uncomfortable question: “Should we abandon the familiar idea that good leaders have a moral compass? This is a disturbing question because we want leaders with moral clarity, who can guide and inspire organisations, especially in tough times. But Okonkwo’s moral compass is a liability when Umuofia is fighting for its survival” (p. 32).

Badaracco then goes on to discuss a contemporary case featuring a business leader who was uncompromising on his moral code, and rather than work to find alternative solutions, walked out at great cost to the firm and many of the employees. As an alternative to the popular moral compass trope, Badaracco claims that “leaders need moral codes that are as complex, varied, and subtle as the situations in which they often find themselves. This does not mean abandoning basic values or adopting moral relativism. It does mean…embracing a wider set of human values” (p. 33).

But how do you develop a sensitive, flexible moral compass? In answer to this question, Badaracco uses Okonkwo’s story as a lesson, drawing from it a series of questions which are intended for “honest reflection” on the reader’s behalf. I think what is so gripping about Badaracco’s approach here is that while there is an expectation that you have read the book/play/short story, he retells key moments from the story (and not in any particular linear order), making the narrative come alive and providing compelling and memorable examples. There is no 'obvious ending' or simplified moral lesson, such as those found in traditional business case studies (Boje, 2001). He also briefly considers the intertextuality of the book – the perspective and intentions of the author, the historical setting, the wider social issues the novel addresses, and the reader’s active role in producing and creating meaning from the text.

Badaracco spends the bulk of his discussion on five key reflective questions:
  1. How deep are the emotional roots of my moral code?
  2. What do my failures tell me?
  3. How have I handled ethical surprises?
  4. Do I have courage to reconsider?
  5. Can I crystallise my convictions?
Each of these questions are explored using examples from Things Fall Apart and with the support of current leadership theory (although Badaracco doesn’t cite many, if any, of these ideas or theories). Badaracco is careful not to prescribe answers, but rather attempts to stimulate debate and self-analysis/reflexive thinking. It's a guide to a better ‘way of being’ in the world: “Okonkwo’s life shows the importance of a leader’s moral code and offers several basic ways for leaders to test the soundness of their own deep convictions. It also warns us against viewing moral codes as simple, mechanistic devices” (p. 51).

In summary then, Badaracco takes a popular business concept (in this case a leader's in-built ‘moral compass’), problematizes widespread ideas/norms surrounding individual morality, demonstrates why there are flaws in this way of thinking (using the story of Okonkwo’s downfall), and proposes possible solution/s in the form of self-improving reflexive questions. Essentially, he is providing aspiring leaders with ideas to help them become better, more ethical, moral leaders. It’s like bookclub on steroids basically, but for men.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I really do like Badaracco’s book – it’s practical, easy-to-read and insightful, and its depth, in terms of literary analysis, is something I really appreciate. However, the overall message is that we are all on a self-directed teleological journey towards an elusive future where you/me will have become the moral leader. If only me/myself/I work hard enough to develop emotional intelligence and authenticity, then there is no reason I won’t succeed as a leader in any environment and in any situation. As Ford, Harding and Learmonth (2008) explain: “Leadership discourses are very much concerned with changing the self so as to become this good leader. In being urged to develop self-awareness, the subject is required to analyse the self as if the self were an object that can be looked at, assessed and then worked on so as to change (p. 21).

At this point it’d be nice to say: ‘Well, this method and style works really well – it’s interesting,  engaging & Badaracco’s already proven it works, so let’s just substitute male narratives with female ones and discuss (using women's literary examples) how to become more collaborative, relational and authentic leaders.’ End of story. A beautifully written, practical thesis tested on a myriad of wonderful female leaders who found it vaguely ‘empowering.’

But unfortunately (or fortunately!) I can’t bring myself to write something so blatantly post-feminist; buying into the wider discourse of Western individualism and over-simplifying the pressing issues surrounding women’s leadership by relegating problems to the ‘I/me/you’. And so I would like to turn to feminist post-structuralism, deconstruction and critical reflexivity (scary names, huh?) as potential ‘methods’ or strategies for content analysis. 

Deconstructing Texts to Story ‘Others’


First off, what does deconstruction even mean? Although providing a set definition is, as Boje points out, rather contradictory to Derrida’s original intentions, deconstruction can be explained “as an analytic strategy that exposes in a systematic way multiple ways a text can be interpreted. Deconstruction is able to reveal ideological assumptions in a way that is particularly sensitive to the supressed interests of members of disempowered, marginalised groups” (Boje, 2001, p. 19).

According to Derrida, all Western thought is based on the idea of a centre – a Truth, Ideal Form, a Presence, etc… which guarantees all meaning (Powell, 1997, p. 21). So deconstruction can be employed as a method of reading/understanding that decentres and unmasks society’s ‘grand narratives’ or essentialist ‘Truths’ (i.e. the ‘great man’ theory of leadership or ‘heroic masculinity’), making room for less visible or marginalised voices and ideas (i.e. women’s perspectives, leadership as shared process, etc...). By enacting alternative narrative analysis that stories ‘Others’ and the author, new narratives in organisation studies that are “multi-voiced, rich with fragmentation and lacking linearity” can emerge and, ultimately, work to actively destabilise hegemonic masculinities and taken-for-granted assumptions and stereotypes (Boje, 2001, p. 9).

However, caution is still in order. As Boje points out: “If we just replace one centre with our own authoritative centre, we have fallen into our own trap. The point then is not to replace one centre with another, but to show how each centre is in a constant state of change and disintegration” (p. 19). Several of the novels/short stories/plays I’ve read do attempt to deconstruct central visions, essentialist concepts and transcendent principles. For example, Top Girls, ‘Sur,’ ‘The Matter of Seggri,’ Welcome to Thebes, etc… The play Welcome to Thebes and Le Guin’s ‘The Matter of Seggri’ are both particularly interesting in this regard as they explore a reversal of the binary opposition, overthrowing patriarchy with matriarchy. But rather than just replacing one hierarchy for another, both Le Guin and Buffini open up the analysis and encourage the reader to think differently about the adverse effects of socially-constructed, gendered societies.

How does Deconstruction Relate to Post-Structuralism?


Boje writes that “for me, deconstruction is a post-structuralist epistemology” (p. 19). But what is post-structuralism? In very brief terms:

In post-structuralist perspectives that build on the performative effect of language, there is no such thing as a passive reading of a text or looking at a film: the ‘gaze’ is actively engaged both in interpreting the text (and thus the reader becomes part of the text) and in the production of the self, or subjectivity, through the very act of looking. Thus reader and text are caught up in one another – the text confers subjectivity (Ford, Harding & Learmonth, 2008, p. 5).

By taking a post-structuralist stance, one can argue that reading, writing and talking are not innocent activities, but are actively productive (Ford, et al., 2008). For example, since popular leadership discourses are impregnated with images of the ‘hero’, visions informed by a battle between ‘the good hero’ and its binary opposite, the ‘dastardly villain’ (Ford, et al., 2008, p. 21), the performative effect is such that leader = leadership in the business world. Similarly, “where men have been regarded as logical, non-emotional, aggressive, occupiers of the public world” and women the opposite (nurturing, emotional, empathetic, unstable), “these descriptors not only create the genders they supposedly do no more than describe, but become norms by which we do not feel we are truly men or truly women if we do not live up to them” (Ford, et al., 2008, p. 132).

So the aim, in terms of leadership development, is not to provide people with ideas to help them think through how to be/come good leaders as Badaracco does (although this is still a legitimate and helpful exercise), but instead, as Ford, et al. (2008) recommend to look at “the demands that have been placed on them and the ways in which those demands may be influencing who they are, as individuals, as subjects, as people involved in the on-going process of constructing the persons who turn up at the workplace each morning" (p. 11).

This critical method of reflexivity, informed by deconstruction and post-structuralism, requires the reader/leader to go beyond the self and embrace wider social, moral and historical contexts, making what was hitherto invisible (stereotypes, expectations, prejudices, ‘centres’ and ‘grand narratives,' etc...) visible and open to critique and resituation (as Boje would say). I'd like to end with a quote by Ford, Harding & Learmonth (2008), the authors of Leadership as Identity: Constructions and Deconstructions, they write:

The encouragement of self-reflexivity and critical questioning of taken for granted aspects of the experience of managers [and leaders] may facilitate a determined critique among managers that can lead to resistance to organisational control. This may be possible through active interpretation of storied accounts of peoples’ experiences and reflexive dialogical critique in which many interpretations can be surfaced (p. 184).

And by ‘storied accounts,’ why not novels, short stories & plays which explore the complexity of women’s leadership from multi-dimensional, multi-voiced 'Other' perspectives?

References:

Badaracco, J. L. (2006). Questions of character: Illuminating the heart of leadership through literature. Boston, MA:  
Harvard Business School Publishing.

Boje, D. M. (2001). Narrative methods for organisational & communication research. London, UK: Sage Publications Ltd.

Ford, J., Harding, N., & Learmonth, M. (2008). Leadership as identity: Constructions and deconstructions. New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan.

Gemmill, G., & Oakley, J. (1992). Leadership: An alienating social myth? Human Relations, 45(2), 113-129.

Ladkin, D. (2010). Rethinking leadership: A new look at old leadership questions. Cheltenham, UK: Edward Elgar 
Publishing Limited.


Friday 9 October 2015

Thoughts from an Enthusiastic Reader (#goals)

Storytelling as the ‘Other’ (Part 2) is coming soon I promise! But I haven’t quite finished sorting through all the data yet to compose what I really want to say/explain/impart. So instead I thought I would give an update on my latest reading endeavours.

First and foremost on my mind has been a book called Modern Misogyny: Anti-Feminism in a Post-Feminist Era. This is a recent study on feminism (published Nov 2014) by Kristin J. Anderson, a Professor of Psychology at the University of Houston-Downtown in the US. I read this book over a cup or two of coffee in a single afternoon (it was honestly that good!). If you’re looking for a concise, well-researched, but easy-to-read summary of the state of Western feminism (or post-feminism) today, then this is a must-read.

While Anderson doesn’t discuss women’s leadership in any great detail, feminism is one of the key informing concepts I’ll be using in my research to justify the use of women’s literature and the value of women’s perspectives. Rather than being gender-neutral as many people would like to believe, leadership discourses are still informed, however implicitly, by hegemonic masculinity and “impregnated with concepts of the hero” (Ford, Harding & Learmonth, 2008, p. 116)

Anderson begins her analysis by discussing post-feminism, she writes that “…post-feminism is marked by the shift from feminism as a collective movement for women’s liberation to superficial empowerment of the individual and her choices” (p. 19). In this neoliberal, and increasingly narcissistic and self-focused culture, feminist goals, Anderson contends, have been depoliticised and collective action rendered largely irrelevant: “Post-feminism is about the individual woman – personal choice, individual expression, and individual career success – and no recognition of the need for a united and collective social movement to liberate all women and enact structural change” (p. 19).

Anderson then goes on to discuss a whole range of current feminist issues, including hyper sexualisation and pseudo ‘empowerment’ in Western culture, sexism as part of a wider system of inequality, the double bind faced by women in the workplace, popular understandings of the term ‘feminism’ (i.e. ‘man-hating’ feminism), and the ‘end of men’ and ‘boys crisis.’
The key point Anderson makes is that we still need feminism (and not post-feminism), and I think she does a fantastic job of explaining why.

I particularly like this salient quote: “Feminists tend to see women and men as not very different from each other, and this is threatening to the gender status quo. If, as feminism argues, women can do what previously only men were thought to be able to do, then you can see how some would perceive manhood as under assault and the perpetrator of the assault feminism. Manhood is exclusionary and, to the extent that men’s activities can be performed by women, it is no longer a special role, no longer male. If women can perform the men’s role, it must mean neither the qualities nor the role are so special after all” (p. 66).
As a result, a whole tribe of anti-feminist authors (for example, Kate O’Briene, Harvey Mansfield, Roy Baumeister, C. H. Sommers, to name a few) have emerged who are not interested in equality but rather “in keeping boys and men at the centre. But not any men, white men in particular” (p. 163). I really like how Anderson alludes to this idea of an identifiable “centre,” a centre that has the potential to be deconstructed and re-imagined. While replacing patriarchy with matriarchy, or male with female, is not my intention, there is definitely room to destabilise systems of inequality by exploring and emphasizing women’s narratives that disturb the centre.

We desperately need more self-labelled feminists in business who can see beyond the individualist rhetoric of post-feminism and recognise the need for structural change. As Anderson argues, feminists need to remain focused on raising women’s awareness of continued gender inequity in order to motivate young women to understand that work still needs to be done (p. 12).

Not convinced? Before you disagree with me, I challenge you to read Modern Misogyny (it’s at the public library so you have no excuse!).


Novels, Stories, Narratives…


I spent several hours last week trawling through all the women’s reading lists I could find and it turned up a few new exciting possibilities (Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks, Calling Invisible Women by Jeanne Ray, The Ten-Year Nap by Meg Wolitzer)! At this point I feel I'm abandoning the idea of using short stories…I have found one really excellent short story (‘Sur’ by Ursula Le Guin) but that’s it so far (note to self: Summer reading list = short story collections).

Latest reads/possibilities:

1. The Women’s Room by Marilyn French


Applicability Rating: 6.5/10

Relevant Themes: Expectations & perceptions, women’s work, feminism

Key Thoughts: Published in 1977 at the end of the ‘sexual revolution,’ The Women’s Room sparked outrage for its controversial and forward-thinking ideas on women’s rights and desires (addressing the ‘what women want’ question). Set in 1950s America, The Women’s Room follows the life of Mira Ward, a conventional and submissive young woman in a traditional marriage, and her gradual feminist awakening. Now considered a ‘classic’ piece of women’s literature (although I doubt many women my age would have even heard of it), French suggests in her opening introduction (written in 2006) that it is just as relevant for today’s audiences (think white, middleclass women) as it was 38 years ago. She notes that “despite many easements on female life in the west, the world’s ethos has moved in the opposite direction – toward more hostility between the sexes” (p. xvi). I’m not quite sure this is the case and whether or not The Women’s Room transcends time boundaries in quite the manner French intends (there is a fair amount of material which is concerned solely with issues addressed by second-wave feminism), however I did find this novel much more engaging and interesting than Mary McCarthy’s The Group (1963) which follows a similar coming-of-age, 'awakening' premise.
One of the best things about this novel are the lively discussions French crafts between Mira and her female friends at Harvard. These scenes make you wish you were part of their dynamic group! Underpinning all their debates is, as Val succinctly observes, the issue of equality between the sexes: “The simple truth – that men are only equal – can undermine a culture more devastatingly than any bomb.”

However, I am still a bit hesitant to use this book as part of the literary research section. First of all, it is very long (a mere 526 pages!) and rather than read huge chunks all at once, it’s more a book you want to read in snippets (it took me about 5 days rather than my normal 24-48 hours). Secondly, there is almost an insuperable amount of ideas discussed and contained within the text, from politics, to feminism, to marriage, to racism, to sex, etc...It moves between topics and themes with dizzying speed, leaving nothing sacred. It left me feeling unsettled, but at the same time revitalised. But I can imagine some women absolutely hating it! Nonetheless, French is a witty and observant storyteller who is entertaining and engaging even if she does spend pages and pages discussing women’s domestic work and the trials and tribulations of the middleclass housewife.

Would I use The Women’s Room then? I think it definitely has a lot of potential as a text which can work to deconstruct patriarchal/male-dominated grand narratives, but I can’t imagine women sitting down to read the full novel in as short a timeframe as they would, say, The Lifeboat or The Invention of Wings. With this consideration in mind, I may use it as a reference text (there are some excellent discussions in there!) or as a suggestion for further reading.


2. Lavinia by Ursula K. Le Guin


Applicability Rating: 5/10 (or, perhaps 8/10)

Relevant Themes: Gender roles, maternal leadership, crisis situations

Key ThoughtsI love Le Guin so I was very excited when I found she’d recently (in 2008) written a historical novel featuring, and even named for, an ‘historical’ female character. The novel relates the life of Lavinia, princess of Laurentum, a very minor character from Virgil’s epic poem the Aeneid. Sounds like a great premise, right? Unfortunately, Lavinia never emerges as the strong, decisive female character you want her to. Instead I found her underdeveloped and rather wooden, as well as unlikeable. She vacillates, cries, makes odd decisions, and is, ultimately, painfully complicit in her 'fate' (in other words, the decisions of men).


There were, of course, a lot of interesting, well-researched details in the story and I can see what Le Guin was trying to achieve by 'completing' or fleshing out one of Virgil's female characters – giving her a 'voice' as Queen of Latium (filling Le Guin’s “immense white area”). But somehow the whole story fell flat, for me at least, due to the fatalistic tendencies of its heroine (although I’m not sure I can even call her a heroine – she didn’t really do anything). In terms of women’s leadership, Lavinia does exhibit a form of maternal leadership for her ‘people,’ but readily abandons her ‘power’ in favour of her son. Everything she does is vis-à-vis men, even though she has so much potential to break out of their confines and rules. Perhaps this is a good discussion point (e.g. why are women often so complicit in their own oppression?), however, I think Le Guin’s ‘Sur’ makes a better contender for my research project. Although perhaps there is room for simultaneously analysing multiple Le Guin stories? I have her non-fiction book, Dancing at the Edge of the World: Thoughts on Words, Women, Places (1989) so I will test the potential of this idea further as I read her critical essays.


I’ve just finished reading The Boston Girl (2014) by Anita Diamant (author of The Red Tent) and I’ve also skimmed Top Girls (1982) by Caryl Churchill for the third time. They are both possibilities as well but I’ll leave my reviews of them for the next entry.

Sometimes it seems that I am reading a lot of women’s literature which won’t be applicable or useful for my study. However, as Jane Smiley (the Pulitzer Prize winning author of A Thousand Acres) points out: “Sometimes the reader has to read novels that don’t work for her and think about why they don’t work – representative lists, unlike “my favourite” lists, have to include uncongenial works” (quote found in Thirteen Ways of Looking at the Novel, 2005, p. 271). I admire Smiley’s approach to literature – she read 100 ‘great’ novels over the course of 3 years and then proceeded to write about her experience and the effect/s the different books had on her as a reader (reflective thinking at its best!). 

What else I’ve read…which won’t work:    
              
  • Property by Valerie Martin (2003)
This short novel won the Orange Prize for women’s fiction in 2003 and I can understand why! It’s a very gripping tale set in New Orleans in 1828 against the backdrop of civil unrest and slave uprisings. Property tells the story of Manon Gaudet, the unhappy wife of a plantation owner, and Sarah, Manon’s house slave whom she brought into the marriage. The drama is centred on the fact that Sarah is not only Manon’s slave, but also her husband’s unwilling mistress, causing resentment on both Manon and Sarah’s sides. There is no happy ending to this haunting tale, in fact it is quite grim and heart-breaking in the way it explores humanity's predilection for cruelty. However, it doesn’t say anything about the ‘women question’ or leadership in particularly. Its strength lie is in its historical analysis and narrative power rather than in topical relevancy.

  • House Girl by Tara Conklin (2013)
Conklin’s debut novel is a reasonably well-written & mildly interesting story, but overall it lacked finesse and depth. The narrative switched between the late-1800s, where it followed the unhappy tale of a young slave woman, and the 2000s where it focuses on the story of a young, outgoing, annoyingly ‘perfect’ female lawyer who is trying to 'survive' in a male-dominated law firm. While Lina, the litigation lawyer, makes some pertinent (although rather cliché) remarks on male and female dynamics in the workplace, there is nothing in particular that makes this story stand out. It's more a journey of uninspiring self-discovery for the not very likeable lawyer and a tragically (though predictable) ending for the fictitious slave girl. Ultimately it fails to engage the reader and, I feel, trivialises the horrors of slavery in the way it flits between meaningless details about Lina’s contemporary existence and the slave girl's sad story. It's a piece I wouldn't be quick to recommend.

  • How to Be Both by Ali Smith (2014)
Now, I was very excited about this book when I first got my hands on it. Shortlisted for the Man Booker prize in 2014, and the winner of the Baileys Women’s Prize for Fiction, How to Be Both promised to explore gender boundaries and perceptions in a new and exciting way. Unfortunately I didn’t make it even half way through before I became extremely frustrated with Smith's disjointed, overly complicated narrative style. Yes, it is a clever post-modern ‘work of art’, but I just didn’t like it. [Note: I actually went back and reread this book several months later and garnered a lot more from it the second time round, in fact, I might dare to say I even enjoyed it!]

  • A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley (1991)
On the other hand, I did love A Thousand Acres, the 1992 Pulitzer prize-winning novel by Jane Smiley. Following the basic plotline of Shakespeare’s King Lear, Smiley tells the story of an aging farmer (a patriarchal and misogynistic white man) who offers his prosperous Iowa farm to his three daughters. Tragic (although not quite as tragic as Shakespeare’s classic), dark and unpredictable (well, unless you’re familiar with King Lear), the novel explores family power relations and the transformation of Ginny (the oldest daughter and narrator) from a naive and weak pawn in her family’s power struggle, to an independent and strong woman. Why won’t it work for my analysis? Ultimately, I think the novel says a lot more about trauma and family relationships than leadership, so to reduce it to a ‘lesson’ on leadership would distort its more salient themes. But I highly recommend this book if you haven’t read it already!

I am more than halfway through reading and note-taking for my section on Women and Leadership. A couple more texts to go through and 8-10 journals. The plan is to finish the research by midweek and then work on a comprehensive outline. It may be a little bit ambitious to try and have the whole section written by the end of October, but I least want to have half of it done by then! #goals 


References:

Anderson, K. J. (2015). Modern misogyny: Anti-feminism in a post-feminist era. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.

Ford, J., Harding, N., & Learmonth, M. (2008). Leadership as identity: Constructions and deconstructions. New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan.