All mighty historical upheavals are crises of belief and ideas. The
present splitting open of neoliberal capitalism is no exception. What
happens when an economic system and its political order reach their
terminus is that governments will try anything, at whatever
human cost, to retain the old system, fighting to the end and at other
people's expense to retrieve a familiar world.
These are our
circumstances today. Robert Locke and John-Christopher Spender's
exemplary little book - written by insiders who got out in order to blow
the gaff on all those inside who still believe the old banger can be
kept on the road - provides us with a missing history. It is the history
of how US and, much later, UK universities were suborned by the
all-American belief that there may be invented a metric technology for
the enhancement of everybody's personal wealth - and if that isn't a
satisfactory meaning to give to life, what is? Eggs will be broken in
making this omelette, but hell, that's evolution for you. If you're fit
enough, you'll survive.
Locke and Spender find the origins of this
bracing ideology a long way back in the making of that old enemy, the
American Dream. But it was the philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre who taught
us that for an ideology to be a living force, it will have three
attributes: data, which is to say certain fixed beliefs about the nature
of the world; precepts, for the ordering of conduct in light of these
beliefs; and finally, institutions, which embody belief and action in
structures of what seem to be practical rationalities.
Business
rushed to power along the vectors of the post- war boom when the US bent
its vast productive energies and mammoth wartime profits to the
restoration of a world economy. Colossal sums were disbursed by
successive governments on operational research for the winning of the
Cold War. Locke and Spender, in a gripping narrative, show how US
universities, impelled by the torque of political power upon scientific
knowledge, built themselves gorgeous intellectual cathedrals for the
apotheosis of "business" (Francis Ford Coppola's film The Godfather, a
great work of art if ever there was one, dramatises the deep penetration
of that idea, even into the gangster sensibility).
The business
schools, led by the old comrades at Harvard University and the Wharton
Business School, raced away and reproduced. They already had their
prophets - F.W. Taylor, James Burnham (odd that our authors don't seem
to know George Orwell's essay on Burnham, predicting in 1946 much of
what they document today) - and lapped up the belief of the new leaders
that only what is measurable is factual, that numbers, not judgement,
must guide decisions, and that mathematical modelling will lead all
human societies, but especially their business professors, to the land
of plenty and the universality of rational choices.
No
sooner was this conceptual victory won than it began to go wrong.
Giddily bemused by their detestation of anything smacking of socialism,
US business graduates ignored and vilified the working practices of
German and Japanese companies precisely while the celebrated "economic
miracle" of those countries' post-war revival gradually bankrupted
General Motors and Chrysler. Locke and Spender turn this, in their calm,
severe way, into a thrilling tragi-comedy. They show plainly how
American hubris denied the force of culture and of ethics. Great
heavens, German companies not only have employees and trade unionists on
their supervisory boards but they also help set salary limits.
In
a dignified climax, the authors guide readers through the great crash
of 2008, handing down just and earnest sentence on the reckless piracy
that transformed itself into a ratified intellectual protocol in the
financial industry.
This is by now a familiar argument in this
country, but the authors make a new and telling contribution in the
responsibility they convincingly put upon universities for so readily
fawning at the altars of money, circling them with a devout liturgy and a
glossy, stout and self-satisfied order of postulants.
Their
concluding remedies are doubtless right and necessary: remoralise the
discipline, recover a public conscience, name crime and wickedness for
what they are. But what will it take to do these things? It will take a
Reformation.
The systems of thought that Locke and Spender
chronicle with a Chomskyan bite and fervour are deeply embedded in UK
universities. Impact, students as consumers, operationalised outcomes,
efficiency savings and all that hateful gibberish all are upon us,
gobbling up an ancient patrimony. As the poet said: "Say not the
struggle nought availeth..." Interested parties may write in to this
magazine to complete the quotation, but only when they have earned it.
To read Confronting Managerialism, check out Zed Books



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