Strategic management – Page 3 – Escondido Framework

How to build a business that last 100 years?

The Boston Consulting Group’s latest BCG Perspectives brings a TED talk from one of its partners, Martin Reeves, titled “How to build a business that last 100 years”. His thesis is that we should look to lessons from biology to create lasting businesses. He links the failure of businesses to survive – pointing out that the average US public company has a life of only thirty years and probability that any public US company will still be around in five years’ time is only 32% – to a “collapse of the corporate immune system”.

He explains that human immune system, and indeed all successful biological systems from forests to fisheries, and indeed such long lasting social systems as the Roman Empire and the Catholic Church, display six characteristics:

redundancy (“millions of copies of each component — leukocytes, white blood cells – a massive buffer against the unexpected”),
diversity (“not just leukocytes but B cells, T cells, natural killer cells, antibodies”),
modularity (“the surface barrier of the human skin….the very rapidly reacting innate immune system…..the highly targeted adaptive immune system……if one system fails, another can take over”),
adaptivity (“able to actually develop targeted antibodies to threats that it’s never even met before”),
prudence (“detecting and reacting to every tiny threat, and furthermore, remembering every previous threat, in case they are ever encountered again”),
embeddedness (“in the larger system of the human body, and it works in complete harmony with that system, to create this unprecedented level of biological protection…… if one system fails, another can take over, creating a virtually foolproof system”).

He explains that along with and as a consequence of these characteristics, biological systems are complex and can seem inefficient, in contrast to the instincts of most managers and what is taught in business schools and preached by consultants.

Reeves continues by applying these lessons to examples of corporate failure. His first is the tragic loss of independence of Kongō Gumi, builder of Japanese temples for 1,428 years and managed by members of a single family until it forgot the principle of prudence, borrowed heavily to finance real estate purchases in the 1980s and was finally liquidated in 2006 and its assets sold to a large construction company.

Shitennoji Temple, built by Kongō Gumi (578-2006)

He then contrasts the collapse of Kodak with the successful adaptation of Fujifilm, which used its capabilities in chemistry, material science and optics to allow it to diversify into sectors outside photographic film, surviving “because it applied the principles of prudence, diversity and adaptation”. He also cites the success of Toyota in surviving a devastating fire in the only plant which supplied it with valves for car-braking systems. He describes Toyota’s ability to work collaboratively with its suppliers to repurpose production as an application of “the principles of modularity of its supply network, embeddedness in an integrated system and the functional redundancy”.

I am sure that there is something in Reeves’ argument, but some of it is contrived and overall it would be more compelling if some of the example illustrated his six principles more comprehensively, rather than only illustrating one or two.

Certainly Kongō Gumi’s demise reflects a lack of prudence – but the most extraordinary aspect of the story is that it had survived for as long it did, which may reflect the lack of underlying change in the Japanese temple market over almost a millennium and a half. To quote Business Week’s report on its demise:

“To sum up the lessons of Kongo Gumi’s long tenure and ultimate failure: Pick a stable industry and create flexible succession policies. To avoid a similar demise, evolve as business conditions require, but don’t get carried away with temporary enthusiasms and sacrifice financial stability for what looks like an opportunity. These lessons are somewhat contradictory and paradoxical, to be sure. But if sustained success came easy, then all family businesses would have a 1,428-year run.”

The Fujifilm example illustrates the benefit of diversity in a portfolio, but says nothing about the photographic film enterprise itself. Fujifilm’s survival represents the success of a corporate parent in managing a portfolio (ie the business of managing businesses), protecting the interests of a top management group, but says nothing about the business unit that brought together employees who worked in factories producing film, the customers that constituted the channel to the camera owner, or its suppliers. Essentially, as technology moved on, the “virtual space” between the various market interfaces disappeared and nothing that could be done to protect this enterprise. Its corporate shareholder – the Fujifilm group company – had elected to redeploy the cash flow into other businesses because the ultimate shareholders were either not in a position to, or chose not to, intervene.

Toyota is celebrated for how it manages itself supply chain and the nature of these relationships, but the fact of its ability to bring brake valve production on-line quickly illustrates only three, and possibly only two (given that it explicitly did not have redundancy in its supply chain given that it maintained a single source for these components), of Reeves’ biological system characteristics.

Considering Reeves’ argument and his examples and relating them to the Escondido Framework model of the firm, I certainly concur with three of his principles: adaptivity, prudence and embeddedness. I get redundancy, although not quite as he defines it, but at least that bit of spare capacity, underused resource, or financial headroom. But the need for and appropriateness of modularity and diversity must depend on the circumstances, and sometimes are in conflict.

Timeless themes in Galsworthy’s “Strife” (1909)

My mother in law and I have resolved the problem of the deadweight loss of Christmas (Joel Waldfogel, American Economic Review, December 1993) by giving each other a night out at the theatre, accompanied by her daughter/my wife. Whether last night’s trip to see “Strife” at the Chichester Festival Theatre was her gift to me or mine to her doesn’t matter, it was a great production and my first exposure to John Galsworthy’s insightful exposure of the fallacy of mindless short term focus on shareholder value, the importance of recognising the constraints on the firm of public opinion, and the pressures on the trade union to serve its long term interest over the pressures of the interested parties in the immediate dispute. Furthermore, themes on hand around corporate governance, the tension between external directors and a dominant shareholder chairman, and on the other (in the context of the current junior doctors’ dispute and the tensions within the British Medical Association) between the professional leadership of the trade union and the intransigent leader of the local workers’ committee, have a resonance in 2016 every bit as powerful as they may have had when the play was first performed in 1909.

Wikipedia provides a useful synopsis:

The action takes place on 7 February at the Trenartha Tin Plate Works, on the borders of England and Wales. For several months there has been a strike at the factory.

Act I

The directors, concerned about the damage to the company, hold a board meeting at the home of the manager of the works. Simon Harness, representing the trade union that has withdrawn support for the strike, tells them he will make the men withdraw their excessive demands, and the directors should agree to the union’s demands. David Roberts, leader of the Men’s Committee, tells them he wants the strike to continue until their demands are met, although the men are starving. It is a confrontation between the elderly company chairman John Anthony and Roberts, and neither gives way.

After the meeting, Enid Underwood, daughter of John Anthony and wife of the manager, talks to her father: she is aware of the suffering of the families. Roberts’ wife Annie used to be her maid. She is also worried about the strain of the affair on her father. Henry Tench, company secretary, tells Anthony he may be outvoted by the Board.

Act II, Scene I

Enid visits the Roberts’ cottage, and talks to Annie Roberts, who has a heart condition. When David Roberts comes in, Enid tells him there must be a compromise, and that he should have more pity on his wife; he does not change his position, and he is unmoved by his wife’s concern for the families of the strikers.

Act II, Scene II

In an open space near the factory, a platform has been improvised and Harness, in a speech to the strikers, says they have been ill-advised and they should cut their demands, instead of starving; they should support the Union, who will support them. There are short speeches from two men, who have contrasting opinions. Roberts goes to the platform and, in a long speech, says that the fight is against Capital, “a white-faced, stony-hearted monster”. “Ye have got it on its knees; are ye to give up at the last minute to save your miserable bodies pain?”

When news is brought that his wife has died, Roberts leaves and the meeting peters out.

Act III

In the home of the manager, Enid talks with Edgar Anthony; he is the chairman’s son and one of the directors. She is less sympathetic now towards the men, and, concerned about their father, says Edgar should support him. However Edgar’s sympathies are with the men. They receive the news that Mrs Roberts has died.

The directors’ meeting, already bad-tempered, is affected by the news. Edgar says he would rather resign than go on starving women; the other directors react badly to an opinion put so frankly. John Anthony makes a long speech: insisting they should not give in to the men, he says “There is only one way of treating ‘men’ — with the iron hand. This half-and-half business… has brought all this upon us…. Yield one demand, and they will make it six….”

He puts to the board the motion that the dispute should be placed in the hands of Harness. All the directors are in favour; Anthony alone is not in favour, and he resigns. The Men’s Committee, including Roberts, and Harness come in to receive the result. Roberts repeats his resistance, but on being told the outcome, realizes that he and Anthony have both been thrown over. The agreement is what had been proposed before the strike began.

Missing from the synopsis are some of the more subtle themes in Galsworthy’s text, including the recognition by Harness of the reality facing the company (that it will not survive if the strike continues and the men’s jobs are on the line) irrespective of Roberts’ concern for a wider struggle against “Capital”, John Anthony’s arguments about the primacy of the bottom line and his duty not to compromise, and the concern of the majority of the directors of the company for public opinion (and their personal reputations).

Linear programming and the theory of the firm – flashback to the 1950s

Exposure to linear programming while doing my MBA at Stanford informed the model of the firm that I described first in May 1980 in a paper for Steve Brandt’s seminar on strategic management and developed into a core component of the Escondido Framework. So when I was told recently about Robert Dorfman’s “Application of linear programming to the theory of the firm” (Berkeley, 1951) and a collection of essays from a 1958 symposium at the University of Michigan edited by Kenneth E Boulding and W Allen Spivey titled “Linear programming and the theory of the firm” (New York, 1960), I thought I should take a look.

Both titles engage somewhat futilely in trying to extend the application of linear programming beyond its useful limits, and swamp the conceptual opportunity of applying a way of thinking about organisational problems with multiple constraints with the desire to created mathematical analytical models under conditions that are necessarily massively complex, non-linear, and dynamic.

Dorfman’s final chapter, on “Assumptions, Limitations, and Possibilities” highlights the limitations of the techniques that he explored in the previous chapters, particularly in relation to the static conditions under which the analysis might be undertaken, the challenges of coping with a dynamic and multi period condition, and with uncertainty. He effectively gives up: “There is little reason to hope that linear programming, or any other simple formulized technique will be able to comprehend this entire problem”. This probably still applies even in an age of massive computing power and ability to capture and interrogate “big data” that Dorfman could never have imagined. He did acknowledge that at the time of writing his book that “linear programming emphasises the physical inter-relationships of productive processes almost to the exclusion of the demand side”. My memory of studying linear programming at the Stanford Graduate School of Business in 1979 is that in this respect at least the commercial applications of linear programming had moved on the in following few decades. Ultimately, however, Dorfman retreats back into an assumption that linear programming could be best applied to managing and optimising internal processes, accepts that the practical applications will be limited in the short term, but remained hopeful, that “economists can rely on the mathematicians, the electronicists, and the statisticians to provide a practical tool.”

The final two essays in Boulding and Spivey’s collection move beyond the descriptions in the earlier essays of the mathematics of linear programming and how they might be applied to the activities of the firm. Interestingly in the context of a book about the application of linear programming, both end up focussing on the difficulty defining the objective function for the firm, arguing that firms seek to more than just maximise profits.

C.Michael White’s essay “Multiple Goals in the Theory of the Firm” reviews the thinking prevailing at the time about the various goals for the firm, both within the scope of profit maximisation (eg in relation to time horizons, to strategic considerations such as discouraging competitive market entry, and in relation to public relations). He cites AG Papandreou, suggesting that he had pointed out that “profit is simply one possible ranking criterion in a broader system of preference-function maximisation. Under perfect competition, profit is the only ranking criterion consistent with survival. In the absence of perfect competition the long-run survival of the a firm may be achieved best (or at least as well) through the maximisation of goals other than profit.”

White addresses the issue of the survival of the firm “The firm as a social and economic organization, like many other organisms, has a compelling urge to survive. More fundamental than the profit motive, the motive to survive is implicit in most decisions within the firm, though the possibility of organizational suicide should not be ruled out”. He later observes “Survival, including the consequent homeostasis concept (Boulding, Reconstruction of Economics, New York, 1950) is seldom an explicit primary goal of a firm but instead provide a pervasive set of limitations on other goals including profit.” However, White fails, surprisingly in an essay in a book about linear programming to close the loop that is embedded in the Escondido Framework model of the organisation as the occupying the virtual space bounded by its market interfaces with customers, capital, labour, other suppliers etc. But he goes some way in this direction, for example identifying later in the paper that “In most instances financial objective are evidenced as additional constraints on other objectives.

White’s summary is as good a description of the objective of the firm as any I have come across since embarking on this project in 1980: “The goals of firms represent a wide array of alternative objectives of which profit maximization is only one, although without doubt a most significant one. In those instances where firms strive to maximize profit all other aspects of the firm’s behaviour impose restrictions on this goal.” (He continues his summary by observing “The difficulty of estimating with accuracy the long-run prospects of a firm makes survival or homeostasis (when interpreted as a relative position within an environment) the most likely long-run objective.”)

Sherrill Cleland’s “A Short Essay of a Managerial Theory of the Firm” is an insightful attempt to move beyond what he describes as “the Traditional Firm”, a limited model developed from the work of Marshall, Chamberlin and Robinson in the 1930s and 1940s essentially seeing the firm as a passive respondent to conditions imposed by external markets for consumption, capital, labour, and materials, and the competitive industry structure. He describes how while economists were studying the operation of the market to understand the allocation process, businessmen were “developing a strong propensity to innovate in order to gain temporary monopoly control over market forces. As the businessman learned by doing, his propensity to innovate shifted to a propensity to monopolize and temporary monopoly became more permanent. The pattern of internal decision-making which he followed was designed to minimize the external constraints which had theoretically limited his decision alternatives. The initial managerial revolution, then, was an attempt by the businessman to control or influence the external forces (the product market and the factor market) that had been controlling and limiting him. That he was successful, and patently so, is evidenced by our antitrust laws. He wished to expand his field of choice, his set of alternatives, while simultaneously reducing the degree of uncertainty he faced.” He captures the different types of relationship with these external forces in the following figure, that distinguishes between those that the business accepts as given, those that provide a degree of restraint but are subject to influence, and the activities that the firm can reshape in response to its own decisions.

Cleland later proceeds develop his “Managerial Theory”, reflecting how the firm, operating in imperfect markets and consequently with options in terms of pricing and other parameters, is in a position to take choices about its internal operations, processes and outputs, and consequently is able to consider goals other than straightforward profit maximisation. He considers the possibility of satisficing behaviour, for example ensuring only that profit levels exceed the cost of capital and perhaps share the benefits of market power through spending on social responsibility programmes, and also minimax behaviour, for example by engaging in defensive pricing to secure long term contracts and thereby reduce uncertainty or discourage competitive entry.

Cleland further explores how decisions are made within the firm, and highlights to failure of traditional economic models of the firm to consider the role of the people within the firm, in particular the “manager-executive” in taking decisions, and in turn the way that the institutionalised processes, policies and procedures shape the way that decisions are taken, and the decision themselves. He also examines the firm as an information system, with flows both up and down the organisation, to provide the basis for decision-taking by managers and their execution of these decisions by subordinates.

In common with Dorfman, Cleland hopes that his essay is merely laying the foundations for further work, but I have been unable to establish whether he undertook further work in this field or whether this essay provided the foundation for the work of others. Nonetheless, a sentence in his closing paragraph about his “Managerial Theory” that deserves wider airing for its emphasis on “satisfactory profit” and the decision-making power of management: “The managerial theory of the firm considers the firm as an organized information system, intent upon a satisfactory profit level operating in an external and internal environment which allows the manager significant decision-making power.”

Failing the marshmallow test

The BBC World Service is the insomniac’s salvation. If you are lucky, a background of talk radio helps you back to sleep. If you are luckier still, you stumble on a piece of quality programming that Auntie has chosen to share with the rest of the globe but not with its domestic listeners.

“In the Balance”, a business programme presented by Andy Walker at 03:30 GMT on Sunday 2nd November, included a first class discussion of short termism between Bridget Rosewell, Geoffrey Franklin and Richard Dodds, following an interview with John Kay that marked the second anniversary of the publication of his report for HM Government on short termism in equity markets.¹

The essential conclusion of the Kay report [reference needed] was that there is too much short termism in UK corporate life at the expense of addressing long term competitive advantage. The top management of quoted companies focus unduly on hitting 3 monthly targets, which are a poor measure of management competence, and have been rewarded accordingly. The 1990s featured attempts to align management incentives with the interests of shareholders, but the net result was that “many people who were quite incompetent made quite a lot of money”. Kay concludes that regulation is not the solution, but that a change in culture is required, but that it is hard to know how to do this, and harder still to measure progress.

Kay expanded on the culture change required and the inherent difficulties. He referred to the “marshmallow test”, an experiment with 4 year old children. Most, when presented with a marshmallow and told that if they wait 5 minutes before eating it they will be given a second one, will eat it right away. (A celebrated study of children subjected to the marshmallow found that those who exhibited a lower personal discount rate and exercised sufficient self control to win the second marshmallow – or maybe just had the insight to understand the challenge facing them – prospered more in later life). Andy Walker asked John Kay whether he was saying that executives simply need to grow up, to which Kay responded “a lot of company directors would fail the marshmallow test.”

In the ensuing discussion among the panellists, Bridget Rosewell blamed her profession (economists) for promulgating the view that all the information about the future prospects of the company is captured in the share price, and consequently many board level remuneration packages have been structured around movements in the share price, and the panel as a whole seemed to conclude that we have spent years telling people to focus on the wrong thing. Further, Rosewell also observed that “All markets exist in institutional contexts and cultural contexts.”

Is John Kay right? Undoubtedly yes. But the supplementary questions are more interesting: why do so many fail the marshmallow test; and what can we do about it?

There are probably could be three underlying reasons for the behaviour Kay describes.

One is that, notwithstanding the experimental data that suggests that people who come out on top in later life are those who as small children passed the marshmallow test, perhaps some of those who make it to the upper reaches of commercial organisations respond disproportionately to short term signals. (Or maybe, by the time that they have reached the upper reaches they are no longer capable or responding to anything other than short term signals?). This is not something that I have observed myself, but there may be some revealing academic research lurking in the nether regions of a business school somewhere that addresses the personality types of chief executives and points to this failing.

A second explanation could be that human timeframes and organisational timeframes may be intrinsically misaligned. “In the long run, we are all dead.” The career time horizon for a typical chief is only exceptionally longer than twenty years on first appointment. Even then, the time horizon within the specific appointment is only exceptionally more than ten – and probably for very healthy reasons including personal boredom thresholds and the benefit from time to time for a fresh set of eyes on a problem. Whether it is desirable is irrelevant, it is entirely reasonable for individuals to consider the rewards – both material and emotional – that will flow from what is deliverable and measurable within their own term of office. And although they may also be concerned for their own legacy in the role, they also have to reflect that they have little power to stop those who come after them frittering it away.

The final explanation relates to the institutional and cultural frameworks about which Kay and the “In the Balance” panellists agonised. The evidence here is compelling (although I would not go as far as Rosewell in condemning the argument that share prices capture all the information about a company – the point, for discussion in more depth elsewhere, is that the prices of traded financial instruments are corrupted because they also capture information about expectations about trader behaviour (in an economist’s version of Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle). Many management teams have been presented by academics, consultants, brokers, investment bankers, and journalists, arguably in error, that they must respond to and seek to affect short term share price performance, and the regulator environment has encouraged rather than discouraged this. Given that the possibility that the first of these three explanations holds true for some executives, and the probability that the second of these three explanations holds true for most, it is all the more pernicious that the we have aligned cultural and institutional frameworks in this way. Instead, we need to bend over backwards to create a culture and institutional framework as a counterweight to the possibility that personal discount rates – driven by hardwired human appetites and instincts – are higher than those of companies and organisations in general, and society overall.

So, who’s eaten my marshmallow?

¹ The Kay Review of Equity Markets and Long Term Decision Making, July 2012

“It’s 80% Dark Matter”

I attended the launch of “Collaboration Strategy: How to Get What You Want from Employees, Suppliers and Business Partners”, the new book by Felix Barber and Michael Goold of the Ashridge Strategy Management Centre. The book contains plenty of good material on structuring terms with the parties who you work with and aligning incentives. Reflecting the past service of both authors with the Boston Consulting Group, it has plenty to say about focusing on those activities in which you enjoy competitive advantage and outsourcing the others.

Publisher’s glass in hand, I was listening to Felix deliver a short lecture providing a synopsis of the themes of the book when someone¹ muttered in my ear: “they’re talking entirely about markets and financial incentives, but in reality it’s 80% Dark Matter”. This is a powerful metaphor and an important insight: we need to recognise that there is lot of dark matter out there in the economy and without it nothing works. Market forces and financial incentives alone do not explain how organisations, partnerships and collaborations operate and why we need them. Barber and Goold do acknowledge, buried deep in their text, that there may be more going on by commenting that they “don’t wish to downplay the importance of other approaches to motivating employees and other partners”. But, possibly reflecting lifetimes as consultants and academics, they convey in the book the impression that they don’t recognise the amount of Dark Matter that the system needs.

¹ David Pitt Watson, sometime managing director of BCG rivals Braxton Associates, Labour Party Finance Director, boss of the activist investment fund Hermes Focus and now social entrepreneur and responsible investment guru.

Strategy: a dialogue between desire and possibility

When someone as eminent as military historian Sir Michael Howard reviews a new book by a young former soldier by describing it as “a work of such importance that it should be compulsory reading at every level in the military” and (recognising himself that he is “really go[ing] overboard” ) that the book “deserves to be seen as a coda to Clausewitz’s On War” you know that you have to read it and that your expectations have been set very high.

Emile Simpson’s War from the Ground Up: 21st Century Combat as Politics deserves a much wider audience than just the military. It sparks ideas about analogies in other parts of life; the experience of a young officer in Helmand Province has meaning elsewhere.

One of his most powerful ideas is the recognition that we need to understand how our actions will be interpreted, and when then they can be interpreted in multiple ways they risk becoming ineffective:

To use an analogy, the market is an interpretive structure whose function is to impose a specific type of meaning, a price, on a product. When the market cannot allocate a price (which is one of its basic functions), its mechanism breaks down and it loses utility. This happened in the financial crisis of 2008, when many derivatives were so complex that the market could not price them. The market seized up its basic mechanism stopped working. When an action in war can be interpreted in a multitude of different ways depending on the prejudice of the audience, it is very hard to make armed force have political utility in a Clausewitsian conception of war: for a military outcome to set conditions for a political solution it needs to be recognised as such. (p.74)

But his comments on strategy are more powerful still:

Essentially strategy is the dialectical relationship, or the dialogue, between desire and possibility. At the core of strategy is inevitably the problem of whether desire or possibility comes first. Does one start with the abstract idea of what is desired, or should one commence by consideration of what is realistically possible? This is a chicken and egg situation.

The two should ideally be in perpetual dialogue, not just before but also during a conflict. Desire must be grounded in possibility; possibility clearly requires an idea in the first place which informs any analysis of possibility…..

Understood as dialogue between desire and possibility, strategy is as much the process that handles this dialogue as the output of the dialogue itself. (p.116)

Marketing, not just about consumers

At some point in the late 1990s, I wrote a short piece for Word on the Street, the Brackenbury Group’s client newsletter, which demonstrates one of the core propositions behind the Escondido Framework very clearly. The relationship between the organisation and all its “stakeholders” is at its heart a marketing relationship:

Marketing is too important to be left to the marketing department. Marketing departments address only the consumers of the products or services that a company sells to those it thinks of as its customers. But the truth is far wider than this.

Companies should apply the marketing way of thinking in all the markets in which they operate. This means not just the “downstream” market, but also to the “upstream” markets: funding, labour, bought in goods and services. The company is marketing an investment opportunity to its shareholders and debt providers. It is marketing careers and contracts to existing and prospective employees. It is providing opportunities to its suppliers with markets and channels to other markets.

The marketing mindset involves understanding the differing needs of differing customer segments, thinking about how to adapt your offer to meet the needs of your target customer and then doing it consistently, understanding the trade-offs they make between different attributes of the product or service you provide – of which price is only one dimension, determining where you can achieve an advantage over your competitors. It also includes what most non-marketing people understand as “marketing”, communicating these benefits to customers in ways that lead eventually to a profitable sale.

In most companies, marketing activity occurs sporadically in the functions that face “upstream”. Presentations are given to investors and financial PR consultancies are returned to put a positive gloss on results. Advertisements are placed, glossy brochures and upbeat web pages prepared, and roadshows taken round campuses to attract prospective recruits. Invtitations to tender and requirements lists are circulated, and subscriptions taken to web-exchanges as part of the sourcing process, whether for services, real estate, or components and real estate.

But in few companies does marketing explicitly underpin the way in which directors and managers in finance, HR, buying and purchasing, IT, property approach their responsibilities. They need to think about their “customers” in the same way that their downstream facing colleagues do about the people or businesses that are customers for the products and services the company sells. Applying tried and tested approaches from the downstream markets to the upstream markets to dealing with the financial markets will yield precious basis point reductions in the cost of capital and reduce paranoia about awkward investors or even takeover. In HR policy, it will reduce total employment costs – not just outlays on wages and salaries, or even improved retention, but also through enhanced productivity. And in purchasing it will translate into competitive advantage through lower total costs of supply, higher service and priority treatment.