Many of those who run institutions would like to think that all their efforts are going to help it evolve—into something bigger, better, more productive, more responsible. It's a lofty vision indeed. It's commendable, too. But I also think it's somewhat misguided. And I'll tell you why.
Although our institutions—our venerable banks, prestigious universities, esteemed hospitals—claim they are ready to "seize the world" and grow to new heights, the fact that they are institutions in the first place makes this impossible. By their very nature, institutions are little more than a sloppy conglomeration of disparate bits and pieces, held together by a cobweb of authority and a generous helping of hubris.
Over the decades, it has been argued that if they are to grow, institutions must reorganise their structure. They must become tighter, leaner, more stream-lined. From these admonishments emerged a myriad of new organisational structures—the horizontal, the virtual, the matrix, the organismic, the boundaryless. Yet the fact that there is any structure in the first place reflects a serious problem. This problem can best be explained by referring to what I call the "Frankenstein effect".
In Mary Shelley's 1818 novel, Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus, a young Swiss scientist, Dr. Victor Frankenstein, creates a living monster by piecing together other people's body parts. Victor puts all his faith in science into this one monster, hoping to create a new human by artificial means. The end result is a wretched, tormented creature with no heart—no humanity.
Institutions are crafted in much the same way. Different people, resources, and functions are haphazardly sewn together in the belief that many people together can be more creative and productive than one person alone. I cannot argue that institutions have their benefits. Indeed, they can accomplish many things that single individuals cannot. But like Frankenstein's monster, an institution eventually takes on a life of its own. It becomes bigger than its creator. As such, it can no longer be managed effectively, and eventually it stops meeting the needs of its creators.
Managers and employees alike come to see it as "The Institution". It exudes mystery. It becomes scary. As the institution develops a life of its own, a magnificent schism grows between the institution and the very people it was meant to serve in the first place.
The reason this happens is because its genesis was forced. The institution was created to force people to behave in certain ways (otherwise, people would have gathered together in the first place without any need for formal structures). But like Frankenstein's monster, the forced entity cannot relate with real people. It has no conscience, no responsibility. It is untouchable.
Managers and employees alike come to see it as "The Institution". It exudes mystery. It becomes scary. As the institution develops a life of its own, a magnificent schism develops between the institution and the very people it was meant to serve in the first place. And no new structure can ever close the divide, because that would only create a new forced entity.
Undoubtedly, my vision in this editorial will strike most people as hopelessly pessimistic. Institutions are such an integral part of our society. Could, indeed, we ever function without them? I would suggest that yes, we can. What we would need to do, however, is give ourselves more credit as humans. We must understand that, fundamentally, we were born social creatures. We have a built-in capacity to seek each other out, to work with one another for mutual benefit. We would not have come this far in the species if this natural mechanism had been dysfunctional.
We don't need bureaucracies and organisations to force us to behave socially. What we need is to evaluate our own individual motives and behaviours in order to gain insight into those barriers which prevent us from being co-operative—those very barriers that make us think we need anonymous institutions to control us. When we can do that solitary act, then we can work together in a unified, productive way. More importantly, we can take ownership of natural group efforts, thus investing more into them.
I guess that in the end, what I propose is that we revert back to our natural inclination for forming families. Indeed, it was discovering a loving family that gave Victor Frankenstein's monster tremendous hope at a time of tremendous despair.
Copyright © 2002, by Eddy M. Elmer
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