Digifesto

Tag: managerialism

managerialism, continued

I’ve begun preliminary skimmings of Enteman’s Managerialism. It is a dense work of analytic philosophy, thick with argument. Sporadic summaries may not do it justice. That said, the principle of this blog is that the bar for ‘publication’ is low.

According to its introduction, Enteman’s Managerialism is written by a philosophy professor (Willard Enteman) who kept finding that the “great thinkers”–Adam Smith, Karl Marx–and the theories espoused in their writing kept getting debunked by his students. Contemporary examples showed that, contrary to conventional wisdom, the United States was not a capitalist country whose only alternative was socialism. In his observation, the United States in 1993 was neither strictly speaking capitalist, nor was it socialist. There was a theoretical gap that needed to be filled.

One of the concepts reintroduced by Enteman is Robert Dahl‘s concept of polyarchy, or “rule by many”. A polyarchy is neither a dictatorship nor a democracy, but rather is a form of government where many different people with different interests, but then again probably not everybody, is in charge. It represents some necessary but probably insufficient conditions for democracy.

This view of power seems evidently correct in most political units within the United States. Now I am wondering if I should be reading Dahl instead of Enteman. It appears that Dahl was mainly offering this political theory in contrast to a view that posited that political power was mainly held by a single dominant elite. In a polyarchy, power is held by many different kinds of elites in contest with each other. At its democratic best, these elites are responsive to citizen interests in a pluralistic way, and this works out despite the inability of most people to participate in government.

I certainly recommend the Wikipedia articles linked above. I find I’m sympathetic to this view, having come around to something like it myself but through the perhaps unlikely path of Bourdieu.

This still limits the discussion of political power in terms of the powers of particular people. Managerialism, if I’m reading it right, makes the case that individual power is not atomic but is due to organizational power. This makes sense; we can look at powerful individuals having an influence on government, but a more useful lens could look to powerful companies and civil society organizations, because these shape the incentives of the powerful people within them.

I should make a shift I’ve made just now explicit. When we talk about democracy, we are often talking about a formal government, like a sovereign nation or municipal government. But when we talk about powerful organizations in society, we are no longer just talking about elected officials and their appointees. We are talking about several different classes of organizations–businesses, civil society organizations, and governments among them–interacting with each other.

It may be that that’s all there is to it. Maybe Capitalism is an ideology that argues for more power to businesses, Socialism is an ideology that argues for more power to formal government, and Democracy is an ideology that argues for more power to civil society institutions. These are zero-sum ideologies. Managerialism would be a theory that acknowledges the tussle between these sectors at the organizational level, as opposed to at the atomic individual level.

The reason why this is a relevant perspective to engage with today is that there has probably in recent years been a transfer of power (I might say ‘control’) from government to corporations–especially Big Tech (Google, Amazon, Facebook, Apple). Frank Pasquale makes the argument for this in a recent piece. He writes and speaks with a particular policy agenda that is far better researched than this blog post. But a good deal of the work is framed around the surprise that ‘governance’ might shift to a private company in the first place. This is a framing that will always be striking to those who are invested in the politics of the state; the very word “govern” is unmarkedly used for formal government and then surprising when used to refer to something else.

Managerialism, then, may be a way of pointing to an option where more power is held by non-state actors. Crucially, though, managerialism is not the same thing as neoliberalism, because neoliberalism is based on laissez-faire market ideology and contempory information infrastructure oligopolies look nothing like laissez-faire markets! Calling the transfer of power from government to corporation today neoliberalism is quite anachronistic and misleading, really!

Perhaps managerialism, like polyarchy, is a descriptive term of a set of political conditions that does not represent an ideal, but a reality with potential to become an ideal. In that case, it’s worth investigating managerialism more carefully and determining what it is and isn’t, and why it is on the rise.

beginning Enteman’s Managerialism

I’ve been writing about managerialism without having done my homework.

Today I got a new book in the mail, Willard Enteman’s Managerialism: The Emergence of a New Ideology, a work of analytic political philosophy that came out in 1993. The gist of the book is that none of the dominant world ideologies of the time–capitalism, socialism, and democracy–actually describe the world as it functions.

Enter Enteman’s managerialism, which considers a society composed of organizations, not individuals, and social decisions as a consequence of the decisions of organizational managers.

It’s striking that this political theory has been around for so long, though it is perhaps more relevant today because of large digital platforms.

How to promote employees using machine learning without societal bias

Though it may at first read as being callous, a managerialist stance on inequality in statistical classification can help untangle some of the rhetoric around this tricky issue.

Consider the example that’s been in the news lately:

Suppose a company begins to use an algorithm to make decisions about which employees to promote. It uses a classifier trained on past data about who has been promoted. Because of societal bias, women are systematically under-promoted; this is reflected in the data set. The algorithm, naively trained on the historical data, reproduces the historical bias.

This example describes a bad situation. It is bad from a social justice perspective; by assumption, it would be better if men and women had equal opportunity in this work place.

It is also bad from a managerialist perspective. Why? Because if the point of using an algorithm were not to correct for societal biases introducing irrelevancies into the promotion decision, then it would not make managerial sense to change business practices over to using an algorithm. The whole point of using an algorithm is to improve on human decision-making. This is a poor match of an algorithm to a problem.

Unfortunately, what makes this example compelling is precisely what makes it a bad example of using an algorithm in this context. The only variables discussed in the example are the socially salient ones thick with political implications: gender, and promotion. What are more universal concerns than gender relations and socioeconomic status?!

But from a managerialist perspective, promotions should be issued based on a number of factors not mentioned in the example. What factors are these? That’s a great and difficult question. Promotions can reward hard work and loyalty. They can also be issued to those who demonstrate capacity for leadership, which can be a function of how well they get along with other members of the organization. There may be a number of features that predict these desirable qualities, most of which will have to do with working conditions within the company as opposed to qualities inherent in the employee (such as their past education, or their gender).

If one were to start to use machine learning intelligently to solve this problem, then one would go about solving it in a way entirely unlike the procedure in the problematic example. One would rather draw on soundly sourced domain expertise to develop a model of the relationship between relevant, work-related factors. For many of the key parts of the model, such as general relationships between personality type, leadership style, and cooperation with colleagues, one would look outside the organization for gold standard data that was sampled responsibly.

Once the organization has this model, then it can apply it to its own employees. For this to work, employees would need to provide significant detail about themselves, and the company would need to provide contextual information about the conditions under which employees work, as these may be confounding factors.

Part of the merit of building and fitting such a model would be that, because it is based on a lot of new and objective scientific considerations, it would produce novel results in recommending promotions. Again, if the algorithm merely reproduced past results, it would not be worth the investment in building the model.

When the algorithm is introduced, it ideally is used in a way that maintains traditional promotion processes in parallel so that the two kinds of results can be compared. Evaluation of the algorithm’s performance, relative to traditional methods, is a long, arduous process full of potential insights. Using the algorithm as an intervention at first allows the company to develop a causal understanding its impact. Insights from the evaluation can be factored back into the algorithm, improving the latter.

In all these cases, the company must keep its business goals firmly in mind. If they do this, then the rest of the logic of their method falls out of data science best practices, which are grounded in mathematical principles of statistics. While the political implications of poorly managed machine learning are troubling, effective management of machine learning which takes the precautions necessary to develop objectivity is ultimately a corrective to social bias. This is a case where sounds science and managerialist motives and social justice are aligned.

Recap

Sometimes traffic on this blog draws attention to an old post from years ago. This can be a reminder that I’ve been repeating myself, encountering the same themes over and over again. This is not necessarily a bad thing, because I hope to one day compile the ideas from this blog into a book. It’s nice to see what points keep resurfacing.

One of these points is that liberalism assumes equality, but this challenged by society’s need for control structures, which creates inequality, which then undermines liberalism. This post calls in Charles Taylor (writing about Hegel!) to make the point. This post makes the point more succinctly. I’ve been drawing on Beniger for the ‘society needs control to manage its own integration’ thesis. I’ve pointed to the term managerialism as referring to an alternative to liberalism based on the acknowledgement of this need for control structures. Managerialism looks a lot like liberalism, it turns out, but it justifies things on different grounds and does not get so confused. As an alternative, more Bourdieusian view of the problem, I consider the relationship between capital, democracy, and oligarchy here. There are some useful names for what happens when managerialism goes wrong and people seem disconnected from each other–anomie–or from the control structures–alienation.

A related point I’ve made repeatedly is the tension between procedural legitimacy and getting people the substantive results that they want. That post about Hegel goes into this. But it comes up again in very recent work on antidiscrimination law and machine learning. What this amounts to is that attempts to come up with a fair, legitimate procedure are going to divide up the “pie” of resources, or be perceived to divide up the pie of resources, somehow, and people are going to be upset about it, however the pie is sliced.

A related theme that comes up frequently is mathematics. My contention is that effective control is a technical accomplishment that is mathematically optimized and constrained. There are mathematical results that reveal necessary trade-offs between values. Data science has been misunderstood as positivism when in fact it is a means of power. Technical knowledge and technology are forms of capital (Bourdieu again). Perhaps precisely because it is a rare form of capital, science is politically distrusted.

To put it succinctly: lack of mathematics education, due to lack of opportunity or mathophobia, lead to alienation and anomie in an economy of control. This is partly reflected in the chaotic disciplinarity of the social sciences, especially as they react to computational social science, at the intersection of social sciences, statistics, and computer science.

Lest this all seem like an argument for the mathematical certitude of totalitarianism, I have elsewhere considered and rejected this possibility of ‘instrumentality run amok‘. I’ve summarized these arguments here, though this appears to have left a number of people unconvinced. I’ve argued this further, and think there’s more to this story (a formalization of Scott’s arguments from Seeing Like a State, perhaps), but I must admit I don’t have a convincing solution to the “control problem” yet. However, it must be noted that the answer to the control problem is an empirical or scientific prediction, not a political inclination. Whether or not it is the most interesting or important question regarding technological control has been debated to a stalemate, as far as I can tell.

As I don’t believe singleton control is a likely or interesting scenario, I’m more interested in practical ways of offering legitimacy or resistance to control structures. I used to think the “right” political solution was a kind of “hacker class consciousness“; I don’t believe this any more. However, I still think there’s a lot to the idea of recursive publics as actually existing alternative power structures. Platform coops are interesting for the same reason.

All this leads me to admit my interest in the disruptive technology du jour, the blockchain.

Why managerialism: it acknowledges political role of internal corporate policies

One modern difficulty with political theory in contemporary times is the confusion between government and corporate policy. This is due in no small part to the extent to which large corporations now mediate social life. Telecommunications, the Internet, mobile phones, and social media all depend on layers and layers of operating organizations. The search engine, which didn’t exist thirty years ago, now is arguably an essential cultural and political facility (Pasquale, 2011), which sharpens the concerns that have been raised about their politics (Introna and Nissenbaum, 2000; Bracha and Pasquale, 2007).

Corporate policies influence customers when those policies drive product design or are put into contractual agreements. They can also govern employees and shape corporate culture. Sometimes these two kinds of policies are not easily demarcated. For example, Uber has an internal privacy policy about who can access which users’ information, like most companies with a lot of user data. The privacy features that Uber implicitly guarantees to their customers are part of their service. But their ability to provide this service is only as good as their company culture is reliable.

Classically, there are states, which may or may not be corrupt, and there are markets, which may or may not be competitive. With competitive markets, corporate policies are part of what make firms succeed or fail. One point of success is a company’s ability to attract and maintain customers. This should in principle drive companies to improve their policies.

An interesting point made recently by Robert Post is that in some cases, corporate policies can adopt positions that would be endorsed by some legal scholars even if the actual laws state otherwise. His particular example was a case enforcing the right to be forgotten in Spain against Google.

Since European law is statute driven, the judgments of its courts are not amenable to creative legal reasoning as they are in the United States. Post’s criticism of the EU’s judgment in this case is because of their rigid interpetation of data protection directives. Post argues a different legal perspective on privacy is better at balancing other social interests. But putting aside the particulars of the law, Post makes the point that Google’s internal policy matches his own legal and philosophical framework (which prefers dignitary privacy over data privacy) more than EU statutes do.

One could argue that we should not trust the market to make Google’s policies just. But we could also argue that Google’s market share, which is significant, depends so much on its reputation and users trust that in fact it is under great pressure to adjucate disputes with its users wisely. It is a company that must set its own policies, which do have political significance. It has the benefits of more direct control over the way these policies get interpreted and enforced in the state, faster feedback on whether the policies are successful, and a less chaotic legislative process for establishing policy in the first place.

Political liberals would dismiss this kind of corporate control as just one commercial service among many, or else wring their hands with concern over a company coming to have such power over the public sphere. But managerialists would see the emergence of search engines as an organization among others, comparable to other private entities that have been part of the public sphere, such as newspapers.

But a sound analysis of the politics of search engines need not depend on analogies with past technologies. This is a function of legal reasoning. Managerialism, which is perhaps more a descendent of business reasoning, would ask how, in fact, search engines make policy decisions and how does this affect political outcomes. It does not prima facie assume that a powerful or important corporate policy is wrong. It does ask what the best corporate policy is, given a particular sector.

References

Bracha, Oren, and Frank Pasquale. “Federal Search Commission-Access, Fairness, and Accountability in the Law of Search.” Cornell L. Rev. 93 (2007): 1149.

Introna, Lucas D., and Helen Nissenbaum. “Shaping the Web: Why the politics of search engines matters.” The information society 16.3 (2000): 169-185.

Pasquale, Frank A. “Dominant search engines: an essential cultural & political facility.” (2011).

Why managerialism: it’s tolerant and meritocratic

In my last post, I argued that we should take managerialism seriously as a political philosophy. A key idea in managerialism (as I’m trying to define it) is that it acknowledges that sociotechnical organizations are relevant units of political power, and is concerned with the relationship between these organizations. These organizations can be functionally specific. They can have hierarchical, non-democratic control in limited, not totalitarian ways. They check and balance each other, probably. Managerialism tends to think that organizations can be managed well, and that good management matters, politically.

This is as opposed to liberalism, which is grounded in rights of the individual, which then becomes a foundation for democracy. It’s also opposed to communitarianism, which holds the political unit of interest to be a family unit or other small community. I’m positioning managerialism as a more cybernetic political idea, as well as one more adapted to present economic conditions.

It may sound odd to hear somebody argue in favor of managerialism. I’ll admit that I am doing so tentatively, to see what works and what doesn’t. Given that a significant percentage of American political thought now is considering such baroque alternatives to liberalism as feudalism and ethnic tribalism, perhaps because liberalism everywhere has been hijacked by plutocracy, it may not be crazy to discuss alternatives.

One reason why somebody might be attracted to managerialism is that it is (I’d argue) essentially tolerant and meritocratic. Sociotechnical organizations that are organized efficiently to perform their main function need not make a lot of demands of their members besides whatever protocols are necessary for the functioning of the whole. In many cases, this should lead to a basic indifference to race, gender, and class background, from the internal perspective of the organization. As there’s good research indicating that diversity leads to greater collective intelligence in organizations, there’s a good case for tolerant policies in managerial institutions. Merit, defined relative to the needs of the particular organization, would be the privileged personal characteristic here.

I’d like to distinguish managerialism from technocracy in the following sense, which may be a matter of my own terminological invention. Technocracy is the belief that experts should run the state. It offers an expansion of centralized power. Managerialism is, I want to argue, not compatible with centralized state control. Rather, it recognizes many different spheres of life that nevertheless need to be organized to be effective. These spheres or sectors will be individually managed, perhaps by competing organizations, but regulate each other more than they require central regulation.

The way these organizations can regulate each other is Exit, in Hirschman’s sense. While the ideas of Exit, Loyalty, and Voice are most commonly used to discuss how individuals can affect the organizations they are a part of, similar ideas can function at higher scales of analysis, as organizations interact with each other. Think about international trade agreements, and sanctions.

The main reason to support managerialism is not that it is particularly just or elegant. It’s that it is more or less the case that the political structures in place now are some assemblage of sociotechnical organizations interacting with each other. Those people who have power are those with power within one or more of these organizations. And to whatever extent there is a shared ideological commitment among people, it is likely because a sociotechnical organization has been turned to the effect of spreading that ideology. This is a somewhat abstract way of saying what lots of people say in a straightforward way all the time: that certain media institutions are used to propagate certain ideologies. This managerialist framing is just intended to abstract away from the particulars in order to develop a political theory.

Managerialism as political philosophy

Technologically mediated spaces and organizations are frequently described by their proponents as alternatives to the state. From David Clark’s maxim of Internet architecture, “We reject: kings, presidents and voting. We believe in: rough consensus and running code”, to cyberanarchist efforts to bypass the state via blockchain technology, to the claims that Google and Facebook, as they mediate between billions of users, are relevant non-state actor in international affairs, to Lessig’s (1999) ever prescient claim that “Code is Law”, there is undoubtedly something going on with technology’s relationship to the state which is worth paying attention to.

There is an intellectual temptation (one that I myself am prone to) to take seriously the possibility of a fully autonomous technological alternative to the state. Something like a constitution written in source code has an appeal: it would be clear, precise, and presumably based on something like a consensus of those who participate in its creation. It is also an idea that can be frightening (Give up all control to the machines?) or ridiculous. The example of The DAO, the Ethereum ‘distributed autonomous organization’ that raised millions of dollars only to have them stolen in a technical hack, demonstrates the value of traditional legal institutions which protect the parties that enter contracts with processes that ensure fairness in their interpretation and enforcement.

It is more sociologically accurate, in any case, to consider software, hardware, and data collection not as autonomous actors but as parts of a sociotechnical system that maintains and modifies it. This is obvious to practitioners, who spend their lives negotiating the social systems that create technology. For those for whom it is not obvious, there’s reams of literature on the social embededness of “algorithms” (Gillespie, 2014; Kitchin, 2017). These themes are recited again in recent critical work on Artificial Intelligence; there are those that wisely point out that a functioning artificially intelligent system depends on a lot of labor (those who created and cleaned data, those who built the systems they are implemented on, those that monitor the system as it operates) (Kelkar, 2017). So rather than discussing the role of particular technologies as alternatives to the state, we should shift our focus to the great variety of sociotechnical organizations.

One thing that is apparent, when taking this view, is that states, as traditionally conceived, are themselves sociotechnical organizations. This is, again, an obvious point well illustrated in economic histories such as (Beniger, 1986). Communications infrastructure is necessary for the control and integration of society, let alone effective military logistics. The relationship between those industrial actors developing this infrastructure, whether it be building roads, running a postal service, laying rail or telegram wires, telephone wires, satellites, Internet protocols, and now social media–and the state has always been interesting and a story of great fortunes and shifts in power.

What is apparent after a serious look at this history is that political theory, especially liberal political theory as it developed in the 1700’s an onward as a theory of the relationship between individuals bound by social contract emerging from nature to develop a just state, leaves out essential scientific facts of the matter of how society has ever been governed. Control of communications and control infrastructure has never been equally dispersed and has always been a source of power. Late modern rearticulations of liberal theory and reactions against it (Rawls and Nozick, both) leave out technical constraints on the possibility of governance and even the constitution of the subject on which a theory of justice would have its ground.

Were political theory to begin from a more realistic foundation, it would need to acknowledge the existence of sociotechnical organizations as a political unit. There is a term for this view, “managerialism“, which, as far as I can tell is used somewhat pejoratively, like “neoliberalism”. As an “-ism”, it’s implied that managerialism is an ideology. When we talk about ideologies, what we are doing is looking from an external position onto an interdependent set of beliefs in their social context and identifying, through genealogical method or logical analysis, how those beliefs are symptoms of underlying causes that are not precisely as represented within those beliefs themselves. For example, one critiques neoliberal ideology, which purports that markets are the best way to allocate resources and advocates for the expansion of market logic into more domains of social and political life, but pointing out that markets are great for reallocating resources to capitalists, who bankroll neoliberal ideologues, but that many people who are subject to neoliberal policies do not benefit from them. While this is a bit of a parody of both neoliberalism and the critiques of it, you’ll catch my meaning.

We might avoid the pitfalls of an ideological managerialism (I’m not sure what those would be, exactly, having not read the critiques) by taking from it, to begin with, only the urgency of describing social reality in terms of organization and management without assuming any particular normative stake. It will be argued that this is not a neutral stance because to posit that there is organization, and that there is management, is to offend certain kinds of (mainly academic) thinkers. I get the sense that this offendedness is similar to the offense taken by certain critical scholars to the idea that there is such a thing as scientific knowledge, especially social scientific knowledge. Namely, it is an offense taken to the idea that a patently obvious fact entails ones own ignorance of otherwise very important expertise. This is encouraged by the institutional incentives of social science research. Social scientists are required to maintain an aura of expertise even when their particular sub-discipline excludes from its analysis the very systems of bureaucratic and technical management that its university depends on. University bureaucracies are, strangely, in the business of hiding their managerialist reality from their own faculty, as alternative avenues of research inquiry are of course compelling in their own right. When managerialism cannot be contested on epistemic grounds (because the bluff has been called), it can be rejected on aesthetic grounds: managerialism is not “interesting” to a discipline, perhaps because it does not engage with the personal and political motivations that constitute it.

What sets managerialism aside from other ideologies, however, is that when we examine its roots in social context, we do not discover a contradiction. Managerialism is not, as far as I can tell, successful as a popular ideology. Managerialism is attractive only to that rare segment of the population that work closely with bureaucratic management. It is here that the technical constraints of information flow and its potential uses, the limits of autonomy especially as it confronts the autonomies of others, the persistence of hierarchy despite the purported flattening of social relations, and so on become unavoidable features of life. And though one discovers in these situations plenty of managerial incompetence, one also comes to terms with why that incompetence is a necessary feature of the organizations that maintain it.

Little of what I am saying here is new, of course. It is only new in relation to more popular or appealing forms of criticism of the relationship between technology, organizations, power, and ethics. So often the political theory implicit in these critiques is a form of naive egalitarianism that sees a differential in power as an ethical red flag. Since technology can give organizations a lot of power, this generates a lot of heat around technology ethics. Starting from the perspective of an ethicist, one sees an uphill battle against an increasingly inscrutable and unaccountable sociotechnical apparatus. What I am proposing is that we look at things a different way. If we start from general principles about technology its role in organizations–the kinds of principles one would get from an analysis of microeconomic theory, artificial intelligence as a mathematical discipline, and so on–one can try to formulate managerial constraints that truly confront society. These constraints are part of how subjects are constituted and should inform what we see as “ethical”. If we can broker between these hard constraints and the societal values at stake, we might come up with a principle of justice that, if unpopular, may at least be realistic. This would be a contribution, at the end of the day, to political theory, not as an ideology, but as a philosophical advance.

References

Beniger, James R. “The Control Revolution: Technological and Economic Origins of the.” Information Society (1986).

Bird, Sarah, et al. “Exploring or Exploiting? Social and Ethical Implications of Autonomous Experimentation in AI.” (2016).

Gillespie, Tarleton. “The relevance of algorithms.” Media technologies: Essays on communication, materiality, and society 167 (2014).

Kelkar, Shreeharsh. “How (Not) to Talk about AI.” Platypus, 12 Apr. 2017, blog.castac.org/2017/04/how-not-to-talk-about-ai/.

Kitchin, Rob. “Thinking critically about and researching algorithms.” Information, Communication & Society 20.1 (2017): 14-29.

Lessig, Lawrence. “Code is law.” The Industry Standard 18 (1999).

Discourse theory of law from Habermas

There has been at least one major gap in my understanding of Habermas’s social theory which I’m just filling now. The position Habermas reaches towards the end of Theory of Communicative Action vol 2 and develops further in later work in Between Facts and Norms (1992) is the discourse theory of law.

What I think went on is that Habermas eventually gave up on deliberative democracy in its purest form. After a career of scholarship about the public sphere, the ideal speech situation, and communicative action–fully developing the lifeworld as the ground for legitimate norms–but eventually had to make a concession to “the steering media” of money and power as necessary for the organization of society at scale. But at the intersection between lifeworld and system is law. Law serves as a transmission belt between legitimate norms established by civil society and “system”; at it’s best it is both efficacious and legitimate.

Law is ambiguous; it can serve both legitimate citizen interests united in communicative solidarity. It can also serve strong powerful interests. But it’s where the action is, because it’s where Habermas sees the ability for lifeworld to counter-steer the whole political apparatus towards legitimacy, including shifting the balance of power between lifeworld and system.

This is interesting because:

  • Habermas is like the last living heir of the Frankfurt School mission and this is a mature and actionable view nevertheless founded in the Critical Theory tradition.
  • If you pair it with Lessig’s Code is Law thesis, you get a framework for thinking about how technical mediation of civil society can be legitimate but also efficacious. I.e., code can be legitimized discoursively through communicative action. Arguably, this is how a lot of open source communities work, as well as standards bodies.
  • Thinking about managerialism as a system of centralized power that provides a framework of freedoms within it, Habermas seems to be presenting an alternative model where law or code evolves with the direct input of civil stakeholders. I’m fascinated by where Nick Doty’s work on multistakeholderism in the W3C is going and think there’s an alternative model in there somewhere. There’s a deep consistency in this, noted a while ago (2003) by Froomkin but largely unacknowledged as far as I can tell in the Data and Society or Berkman worlds.

I don’t see in Habermas anything about funding the state. That would mean acknowledging military force and the power to tax. But this is progress for me.

References

Zurn, Christopher. “Discourse theory of law”, in Jurgen Habermas: Key Concepts, edited by Barbara Fultner

Notes on The Democratic Surround; managerialism

I’ve been greatly enjoying Fred Turner’s The Democratic Surround partly because it cuts through a lot of ideological baggage with smart historical detail. It marks a turn, perhaps, in what intellectuals talk about. The critical left has been hung up on neoliberalism for decades while the actual institutions that are worth criticizing have moved on. It’s nice to see a new name for what’s happening. That new name is managerialism.

Managerialism is a way to talk about what Facebook and the Democratic Party and everybody else providing a highly computationally tuned menu of options is doing without making the mistake of using old metaphors of control to talk about a new thing.

Turner is ambivalent about managerialism perhaps because he’s at Stanford and so occupies an interesting position in the grand intellectual matrix. He’s read his Foucault, he explains when he speaks in public, though he is sometimes criticized for not being critical enough. I think ‘critical’ intellectuals may find him confusing because he’s not deploying the same ‘critical’ tropes that have been used since Adorno even though he’s writing sometimes about Adorno. He is optimistic, or at least writes optimistically about the past, or at least writes about the past in a way that isn’t overtly scathing which is just more upbeat than a lot of writing nowadays.

Managerialism is, roughly, the idea of technocratically bounded space of complex interactive freedom as a principle of governance or social organization. In The Democratic Surround, he is providing a historical analysis of a Bauhaus-initiated multimedia curation format, the ‘surround’, to represent managerialist democracy in the same way Foucault provided a historical analysis of the Panopticon to represent surveillance. He is attempting to implant a new symbol into the vocabulary of political and social thinkers that we can use to understand the world around us while giving it a rich and subtle history that expands our sense of its possibilities.

I’m about halfway through the book. I love it. If I have a criticism of it it’s that everything in it is a managerialist surround and sometimes his arguments seems a bit stretched. For example, here’s his description of how John Cage’s famous 4’33” is a managerialist surround:

With 4’33”, as with Theater Piece #1, Cage freed sounds, performers, and audiences alike from the tyrannical wills of musical dictators. All tensions–between composer, performer, and audience; between sound and music; between the West and the East–had dissolved. Even as he turned away from what he saw as more authoritarian modes of composition and performance, though, Cage did not relinquish all control of the situation. Rather, he acted as an aesthetic expert, issuing instructions that set the parameters for action. Even as he declined the dictator’s baton, Cage took up a version of the manager’s spreadsheet and memo. Thanks to his benevolent instructions, listeners and music makers alike became free to hear the world as it was and to know themselves in that moment. Sounds and people became unified in their diversity, free to act as they liked, within a distinctly American musical universe–a universe finally freed of dictators, but not without order.

I have two weaknesses as a reader. One is a soft spot for wicked vitriol. Another is an intolerance of rhetorical flourish. The above paragraph is rhetorical flourish that doesn’t make sense. Saying that 4’33” is a manager’s spreadsheet is just about the most nonsensical metaphor I could imagine. In a universe with only fascists and managerialists, then I guess 4’33” is more like a memo. But there are so many more apt musical metaphors for unification in diversity in music. For example, a blues or jazz band playing a standard. Literally any improvisational musical form. No less quintessentially American.

If you bear with me and agree that this particular point is poorly argued and that John Cage wasn’t actually a managerialist and was in fact the Zen spiritualist that he claimed to be in his essays, then either Turner is equating managerialism with Zen spiritualism or Turner is trying to make Cage a symbol of managerialism for his own ideological ends.

Either of these is plausible. Steve Jobs was an I Ching enthusiast like Cage. Stewart Brand, the subject of Turner’s last book, From Counterculture to Cyberculture, was a back-to-land commune enthusiast before he become a capitalist digerati hero. Running through Turner’s work is the demonstration of the cool origins of today’s world that’s run by managerialist power. We are where we are today because democracy won against fascism. We are where we are today because hippies won against whoever. Sort of. Turner is also frank about capitalist recuperation of everything cool. But this is not so bad. Startups are basically like co-ops–worker owned until the VC’s get too involved.

I’m a tech guy, sort of. It’s easy for me to read my own ambivalence about the world we’re in today into Turner’s book. I’m cool, right? I like interesting music and read books on intellectual history and am tolerant of people despite my connections to power, right? Managers aren’t so bad. I’ve been a manager. They are necessary. Sometimes they are benevolent and loved. That’s not bad, right? Maybe everything is just fine because we have a mode of social organization that just makes more sense now than what we had before. It’s a nice happy medium between fascism, communism, anarchism, and all the other extreme -ism’s that plagued the 20th century with war. People used to starve to death or kill each other en masse. Now they complain about bad management or, more likely, bad customer service. They complain as if the bad managers are likely to commit a war crime at any minute but that’s because their complaints would sound so petty and trivial if they were voiced without the use of tropes that let us associate poor customer service with deliberate mind-control propaganda or industrial wage slavery. We’ve forgotten how to complain in a way that isn’t hyperbolic.

Maybe it’s the hyperbole that’s the real issue. Maybe a managerialist world lacks catastrophe and so is so frickin’ boring that we just don’t have the kinds of social crises that a generation of intellectuals trained in social criticism have been prepared for. Maybe we talk about how things are “totally awesome!” and totally bad because nothing really is that good or that bad and so our field of attention has contracted to the minute, amplifying even the faintest signal into something significant. Case in point, Alex from Target. Under well-tuned managerialism, the only thing worth getting worked up about is that people are worked up about something. Even if it’s nothing. That’s the news!

So if there’s a critique of managerialism, it’s that it renders the managed stupid. This is a problem.