Game Theory in Management

In 1964, Ballantine Books published Eric Berne’s ground-breaking tome Games People Play, the Basic Handbook of Transactional Analysis. One of the more fascinating assertions Berne made was that we all have a narrative running inside our heads, a sort-of script that we are playing out. This narrative leads some to re-create parts of their life stories by manipulating people and engineering circumstances to re-live past victories or defeats: the victories for obvious reasons, and the defeats so that they can, this time, make the “correct” decision that overcomes their past pain. These narratives become part of us, so ingrained in our personas that we are barely aware that they even exist. Nevertheless, they have a powerful influence on the way we, well, govern ourselves.

Now, flash forward to the project team or PMO in need of “governance.” The managers or executives who provide this function almost certainly bring their individual narratives with them to this decision-structure-creating role. Now, before you dismiss all of this by saying “ah, c’mon Hatfield, we’re all quasi-prisoners of our own experiences – how is this a problem, really?”, I have one question: where did Groundhog Day (the celebration, not the movie) come from?

While farmers in Europe were known for making a habit of observing wild animals’ behaviors for clues on when they could expect the last freeze, the act of pulling a specific Marmota Monax from specific burrow and declaring that, based on the cloud cover that day, the weather can be accurately forecast is a uniquely American practice. I would speculate that, at some point in Western Pennsylvania’s past, somebody influential (or maybe many somebodies) observed a woodchuck coming out of his burrow on February 2^nd, and then (somewhat patiently, certainly) observed the next six weeks of weather, and made the (logical?) connection. It is this tendency to link otherwise unconnected events, that just happened to occur sequentially in time, that makes a logical wreck of our internal narratives.

As I point out in my recently-released, must-have book Game Theory in Management (I know it’s $50! It’s worth every penny – buy it already!) the natural tendency for us to take our internal narratives, which serve to explain to us how and why our histories unfolded the way they did, and then flip them forward to lead us to anticipate how our futures will unfold makes us extremely vulnerable to very bad management decisions. I once worked with a project manager who absolutely insisted on having what he called a “swim lane chart,” very early in the project. We PM-types would know his requested deliverable as a PERT Chart, arranged by performing organization. So convinced was he that this artifact was critical to project success, he demanded it as his top priority. When I tried to explain to him that, in order to create this chart, we would need to first create a Work Breakdown Structure, and then cross-connect it to an Organizational Breakdown Structure, and then key all of this information into a Critical Path-capable program, he tried to have me removed from the project. I guess common project management sense isn’t all that common. I’d also speculate that he was completely ignorant of the PM baseline groundwork that had to happen prior to his getting his precious “swim lane chart.” It just wasn’t in his narrative.

Now, incorporate Michael Maccoby’s Gamesman archetypes from his book The Gamesman[i]. In it, Maccoby asserted that there are four types of workers:

·         The Craftsman, who doesn’t really care too much for whom he works, but cares a great deal about the quality of his output.

·         The Company Man, who tends to assume the persona of the organization around him.

·         The Gamesman, who doesn’t perceive his benefits as food on his table or a roof over his head, but as markers in some grand game.

·         And the Jungle Fighter, who tends to get ahead by inflating their own contributions and minimizing their competitors (virtually everyone else), and minimizing their own failures while highlighting the shortcomings of their coworkers.

I would argue that, just as Maccoby was placing workers into these categories, he was also, essentially, placing their narratives in these bins, as well.  If this is the case, then, the implications are that, even if the people who are in charge of governance within your organization are (happily) not Jungle Fighters nor Company Men, then there is still a high likelihood that the narratives they bring with them are fraught with Groundhog Day-style misconnections, harkening back from their previous successes (or even failures – need to redeem that past, don't you know!). So, with all these vulnerabilities, is there a rational, clearly articulatable solution?

You bet there is! And it is…

…available in my book, or, eventually, in subsequent blogs.

I believe part of the crazed push to incorporate the opinions of anyone who even remotely qualifies as a “stakeholder” into a given project’s (or organization’s) decision-making process stems from a fear that one of these “stakeholders” has a perspective that, if ignored, may lead to disaster. And fear, being the powerful motivator that it is, has pushed executive management’s perspective into a rudderless, random course, determined not by the best informed and formulated strategic approach, but by whomever happens to be the most influential “stakeholder.” Since the most informed stakeholder is often held to be the asset managers (read: accountants), in those circumstances where their take on the business world is the wrong one (project management, strategic management) the project team/macro organization is setting itself up to make one bad decision after the other, all in the name of proper governance.

One of the key casualties of this enfuzziment of management science perspective is management science itself. Of course, for any theory to be considered truly scientific, it must manifest two properties:

·         It must be observable.

·         It must be repeatable in an experimental setting.

Which leads us to the first problem with management “science”: in the macro economy (or even in the micro, if we are to be completely honest) it’s virtually impossible to isolate the specific causal factors of economic gain or loss. Sure, there’s tons of anecdotal evidence, and much of this comes across as being axiomatic – which leads to the second problem, that the real sciences recognize this, and are led to the conclusion that management “science” is little more than common sense (except for double-entry bookkeeping, adding unearned credence to the accountants’ point of view among engineers and scientists). This kind of a pseudo-scientific environment simply begs for quackery.

The very word “quackery” takes us back to the days before the scientific method came to dominate medicine. Those itinerant snake-oil salesmen? How quaint! How silly of those 19^th-century people to fall for their claims! However, as the brilliant Michael Crichton points out in his Caltech Michelin Lecture from January 17, 2003, (“Aliens Cause Global Warming”) in the 1920s Americans were suffering from a disease called pellagra. The medical community was convinced pellagra was caused by a pathogen. The medical researcher who looked into the problem for the U.S. Government, Dr. Joseph Goldberger, thought that the cause was due to poor diet. Goldberger was right, but was relentlessly smeared and mocked by the medical establishment. People died as the medical community largely turned their backs on the very scientific method that had supposedly propelled them past their quackery phase.

Now consider how management science theories are advanced. Participants in successful enterprises are asked their opinions on the causal factors that led to the success. What could go wrong? Well,

·         Those offering their opinions might not know exactly which factors were key, and which were incidental.

·         They also are probably attributing more to their individual contribution(s) than their co-workers, and certainly more than their enemies.

·         If anyone in the organization has complete knowledge on the reasons for the success, they might not want anyone else emulating them.

The advancement of management science theories, then, becomes one of advocacy – the most influential or persuasive communicator sees their pet theories advanced, often elbowing aside better explanations of the causal factors of the success being analyzed. The exact same thing happens in reverse when project failure post-mortem analyses are conducted – hence the axiom “Success has many fathers, but failure is an orphan.”

If, then, a given management science theory is advanced more from contagion then its validity, whose ideas gain prominence in the field?

The business equivalent of the snake oil salesmen’s, of course.

“Those who know that the consensus of many centuries has sanctioned the conception that the earth remains at rest in the middle of the heavens as its center, would, I reflected, regard it as an insane pronouncement if I made the opposite assertion that the earth moves.”

                                                --Nicolaus Copernicus

I was thrilled when Cameron posted that April’s theme was governance, because I just love railing against the conventional wisdom on this topic. I’m channeling my inner curmudgeon, and he’s had three Red Bulls in the past hour.

First off, I would like to remind my readers of one of my March blogs, Here's a Communication Strategy -- Don't Communicate Your Strategy! In it, I took on the notion that anyone who has even the most tenuous claim to being a “stakeholder” ought to have access to any and all organizational information involving strategy or tactics. Under the eat-your-peas-style axiom that management must “engage stakeholders,” a plethora of dopey business decisions are made based on adherence to this cliché, making the owning organization weaker, not stronger.

Consider what the push towards better corporate “governance” has brought us, at least in the United States: Sarbanes-Oxley, that mish-mash of corporate “guidance” brought to you by the same type of people who are going to “improve” the medical industry via Obamacare. How a given organization’s management interacts with its shareholders (or, by extension, how its board interacts with “stakeholders”) is their business, and no one else’s. I would bet real money that, if successful managers and board members were to be shot full of Sodium Pentothal, and placed in front of stakeholders (and bloggers who insist the latter must be engaged more often and more fully, don’t you know), they may very well blurt out (in unison), “we would realize a lot more success if you guys would just shut up and let us run the organization.”

“But what about Enron?” the pro-governance crowd would insist. Well, what about it? I’m fully aware that that failed organization is the poster-child for the perception that some sort of authority is needed to ensure shareholders’ (yeah, stakeholders’ too) goals are not being subverted by rogue management teams. But, prior to Enron’s spectacular crash-and-burn, what were they doing? As I discuss in my recently-released, must-have book, Game Theory in Management, they were making money hand over fist off of California’s poorly-conceived energy regulatory environment.  I must ask the pro-governance crowd: at what point should Enron’s management stopped the profit meter from spinning at its dizzying pace to “engage stakeholders,” and get their opinions on what they were doing? Immediately prior to the illegal stuff? Well, for one, Enron was not found guilty of anything illegal during the California Energy Crisis run. Two, the point that management veered into error is easy enough to see in hindsight, but a bit trickier in real-time. The latitude of management to make timely decisions based on the market conditions in front of them is severely curtailed by the need for stakeholder consensus, and this curtailment can be detrimental, or even fatal to the organization.

Also consider that much of what passes for proper corporate governance is predicated on the establishment and observation of some sort of consensus derived from all those under-informed stakeholders. It is simply inescapable that many of the organization’s stakeholders are purely passive – they may be shareholders who wouldn’t recognize their own retirement portfolios if they were placed in front of them, yet hold shares in the organization. Should their opinions be culled, and integrated into corporate strategy? They’re stakeholders, in the truest sense, aren’t they? Taken to its logical conclusion, doesn’t the conventional wisdom on proper corporate governance demand that these people’s opinions – ignorant as they are – weigh significantly in the process of developing the organizations’ strategies?

Yeah, I know I’m the minority opinion here; but, like Copernicus, that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.

Of course, a lot of ProjectManagement.com bits have been written about strategic management this month, about what it is, and how it ought to be executed. However, I haven’t seen much about what strategic management isn’t, so I’ll take the plunge:

Strategic management has nothing to do with asset management; therefore, those trained in asset management make poor strategists.

I know this flies in the face of much of what’s currently in textbooks on the subject, but it is undeniably true. When I was taking classes in strategic management, my textbooks appeared to be written by someone who was under the impression that low or mid-level management decided things like how many pencils to buy in a given month, and higher level, or “strategic” management, made decisions about the macro organization’s policy on buying regular or mechanical pencils for everybody. To these guys, strategic management is nothing more than asset management, writ large – and they couldn’t be more wrong.

The reasons they’re wrong are myriad, so I’ll just address the most obvious. Management at all levels and types is about making informed decisions. The source and residence of virtually all of the information your typical Chief Financial Officer (read: asset manager) receives originates exclusively from the general ledger. While the general ledger may be great for passing along things like the depreciation rate of the stuff in your warehouses, it has only one piece of information usable in the project management realm (actual cost of work performed), and absolutely nothing of use in the strategic management realm. As I discuss in my recently-released, must-have book Game Theory in Management, there are three kinds of management:

·         Asset

·         Project

·         Strategic

Asset management enthusiasts – give them credit – successfully inserted into the management science narrative that the point of all management is to “maximize shareholder wealth.” Wrong! That’s the point of asset management, but nothing else. The point of project management is to bring your project in on-time (or early), on-budget (or under), while meeting (or exceeding) all of your customers’ expectations with respect to quality, reliability, or other customer-defined parameters. The general ledger provides only one data point of the many needed in this area (noted previously).

The point of strategic management is to outperform your competitors, and your organization’s general ledger – remember, the source and residence of the CFO’s information – knows absolutely nothing that can help here. It can’t tell you what kinds of work your organization does best. It therefore can’t help inform the selection of work to pursue. And the general ledger processes zero data on what your competitors are doing, or why.

But you can’t tell any of this to some CFOs. No, they’re just convinced that they have all of the quantitative data needed to run the macro organization, and tend to treat anyone with a different business model view as being ignorant in comparison. Having to interact with this type of executive is not unlike being condescended to by a tarot card-reader, save that the tarot card-readers at least have a sense that people who disagree with them might not all be complete dolts.

How do you know if your organization’s CFO is such a one? It’s easy, really.  Just ask yourself, have you ever observed them weighing in on project or strategic management issues, based solely on information gleaned from the general ledger? If the answer is yes, you know two things: (1) your organization is about to make some uninformed strategic management decisions,  and (2) there isn’t anything you can do about it.

I found myself thinking about the many similarities between billion-dollar-generating protagonists Luke Skywalker and Harry Potter recently (actually, it was one of the more productive ways to spend the free time with which I suddenly found myself, after setting aside time for March Madness, only to see my beloved University of New Mexico Lobos make an unexpectedly early exit). Consider:

·         Both are orphans, with mothers who had been renowned for their beauty,

·         and have been living with an Aunt and an Uncle, in an out-of-the-way place in order to hide them.

·         They both have an amazing talent, but, early on, are unaware they have it,

·         but the Aunt/Uncle are aware of it, and hope the boys do not grow up to be like their fathers.

·         An encounter with their eventual mentors reveals this talent, and who they really are in the stories’ larger conflict.

·         Both are pursued from birth by the story’s antagonists,

·         who are aware that the boys are somehow destined to thwart their evil intentions.

·         Both Luke and Harry have friends, but their primary ones are one man and one woman.

·         Early in the stories, it looks as if Luke/Harry will become romantically involved with their primary female friend,

·         but their primary female friend and primary male friend end up having the romantic relationship instead, and both Luke and Harry are okay with this.

·         Both Luke and Harry engage in one-on-one combat with their main antagonists, but the first encounter does not end decisively.

·         The second one-on-one encounter occurs while a much larger conflict is going on in the background, and ends with the protagonists victorious.

A review of the story’s antagonists reveals even more striking similarities:

·         Both Darth Vader and Voldemort have unusual appearances, having been on the losing end of a conflict prior to the timeframe of the telling of Luke’s and Harry’s stories.

·         They both dress in black, head-to-foot,

·         and have the unfortunate tendency to taunt their opponents during combat.

·         Both Vader and Voldemort have murdered underlings who disappointed them, and in a most casual manner.

·         Both story’s antagonists have battled Luke/Harry’s mentors, and lost, but somehow escaped capture,

·         but would go on to kill the mentors (although Voldemort does this indirectly, via Snape [see below]).

And, if you take into account the expanded list of antagonists (Emperor Palpatine and Snape), the list of similarities becomes even longer:

·         All four antagonists dress in black, head to foot.

·         The lower-ranked antagonists (Vader, Snape) are believed to have the potential to be on the right side of the conflict by Luke/Harry,

·         which, indeed, they are, but it is not revealed until Vader/Snape betray Palpatine/Voldemort.

Now, is this to say that Star Wars and its sequels represent the same story as Harry Potter, and its sequels? With such a long list of exact similarities, it might seem to the casual book/movie consumer that only the settings have changed.  And yet, I am wholly unaware of any attempts by George Lucas to file a plagiarism claim against J. K. Rowling (maybe it’s one of those “unintentional plagiarism” things, like George Harrison and “He’s So Fine”). Don’t get me wrong – I’m not saying such a claim should be forthcoming. I’m just noting how both stories’ plots appear to assume a remarkably similar, almost formulaic, arc.

By now, my regular readers are probably wondering “what on Earth does this have to do with project management?” It’s natural for us to try to recreate the conditions and environs that have led to success in the past in our current situations and projects, and to avoid those conditions we associate with past failures. However, this tendency needs to be recognized for what it is: an ossifying element that prevents us from adapting novel technical approaches to our project management problems. In larger organizations especially, there can be a standardization of approach to implementing project management techniques, and these approaches can become so formulaic that they morph into a rigid orthodoxy. And, by the time that sets in, the chances of your organization bringing in projects successfully – particularly and especially projects dealing with new technologies or situations – have just dropped precipitously.

In short, stop pointing your wands and exclaiming “Expecto Success Stategerium!”