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ROBERT MENZIES SPEAKS IN HONOR OF
WILLIAM QUEALE
Democracy and Management
It follows the full text transcript of
Robert Menzies' Democracy and Management
speech, also called The First William Queale Memorial
Lecture, delivered at Adelaide, Australia — October 22, 1954.
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The William Queale
Memorial Lecture has been established by |
the Australian
Institute of Management to honor the work and
memory of a man whose friendship many of us
enjoyed, and whose doggedness of character was
in the great Australian pioneering tradition.
For me it is indeed a distinction to be named as
the inaugural lecturer.
Bill Queale's unspoken motto was,
"There is nothing
I can't do if I try hard enough!"
Taken as his own
motto by every Australian, that simple but
dynamic truth could make our country, in a few
generations, a great nation in its own right and
one of the most significant contributors to the
well-being of mankind.
Much of the great constructive work in Australia
has been done by men who, like the man whose
memory we now honor, started from the
"grass-roots," without privilege and without any
assets except courage, ability, and vision. Such
men, whom professing democrats occasionally
criticize for their very success, are in fact
the fine flower of democracy. For democracy's
true glory is not the achievement of a uniform
mediocrity or of a spirit of dependence upon
Government, but the encouragement of talent and
initiative, the elevation of the individual, the
giving of opportunity to all who have the
inherent quality to seize it.
Democracy is the greatest system of government
yet devised by man; but it has its weaknesses
and its dangers. So far from lessening the
responsibilities of the individual, it magnifies
them. When one man was the ruler, it was no
doubt a matter for thankfulness that he should
be wise and honest and competent. But now that
we are rulers, we must all seek to be as wise
and honest and competent as honest effort can
make us.
Democracy, as it develops, steadily widens the
social responsibilities of government. The
organized community accepts growing burdens in
the interests of the individual; the burdens of
industrial welfare, of economic leadership, of
social services, of high and stable employment.
The weightier the burdens we accept, the greater
must be our capacity and our strength, our skill
and our production. For to accept, with popular
applause, burdens that we are incapable of
sustaining, is to involve others in our own
ruin. As the great Radical, Thomas Payne, once
said,
"Those who
expect to reap the blessing of freedom must,
like men, undergo the fatigue of supporting
it."
These reflections emphasize the point of danger.
Demagogy is a poor substitute for democracy.
Attempts to create 'class' hatred in a nation
whose only true classes are the active and the
idle are in truth attacks upon democracy. A
vehement concentration upon 'rights' obscures
the vital fact that unless duties are accepted
and performed by each of us, not only our rights
but the rights of others will die for want of
nourishment. If we were all tired democrats,
eager beneficiaries but reluctant contributors,
democracy would collapse under its own weight.
There are far too many who desert the Queale
motto and adopt that other which says - "There
is nothing I can't have if other people try hard
enough."
It may be a quaint survival of earlier
historical systems - absolute monarchy, or
despotic aristocracy, or a narrow oligarchy -
that we should so easily fall into the habit of
claiming upon 'the government' as if it were
somebody else, with infinite resources and
power; instead of which, of course, it is
ourselves, with no more resources and power than
we, by our efforts, have created and made
available.
I make these trite observations about frequently
forgotten things without apology, for I want to
remind you that, because he was first and
foremost a contributor, William Queale was a
good democrat.
Your Institute, of which he was one of the
founding fathers, is an Institute of Management.
Its very name is a reminder that in a democracy
we need only not effort and skill, but
well-directed effort and skill. And here again I
am reminded of one of the temporary ills of
democracy - the quaint illusion that
self-government and discipline are mutually
exclusive; that obedience to orders subtracts
from human dignity and freedom. This illusion,
though not uncommon, is so crude that, in a
sense, it needs only to be stated to be
destroyed. Yet, with your permission, I will
dwell on it a little.
"Each for himself and the devil take the
hindmost" is the slogan not of freedom, but of
anarchy. In a civilized community, not one of us
can live to himself. In the immortal phrase of
St Paul, "we are members one of another." My
freedom must be limited if I am to live at peace
with my neighbor and his freedom. The whole
history of civilization, as mankind emerged from
primitive tribal warfare and nomadic man
gathered into ordered societies, was and is a
history of limitations upon individual freedom.
The growing mass of laws and the growing
precision of law enforcement have produced an
effect upon almost everything we do. The more
robust our democracy becomes, the less do we
claim an unfettered freedom to drive where we
like and at what speed we fancy, to write or say
what we like about other people, to redress our
grievances by physical violence. Never the
history of the world have men and women moved
from day to day in such a vast network of laws
and regulations, orders and prohibitions, as
under modern democracy. The thing to remember is
that we wear our chains lightly because they are
of our own forging; that the giving up of the
little freedoms involved in the social compact
has raised the quality and assured the
continuity of those great freedoms of the mind
and of the spirit which democracy is destined to
serve. As Edmund Burke said at Bristol in 1774,
"The only
liberty I mean, is a liberty connected with
order; that not only exists along with order
and virtue, but which cannot exist at all
without them."
We see, therefore, that sensible discipline
cheerfully accepted and public laws scrupulously
obeyed are not the enemies of freedom, but its
essential friends.
Good management is therefore vital good to
democracy. Good management is your daily
concern. It is my daily concern. I hope you will
allow me to say a few things about it. For
though I am a political manager (if the phrase
is permitted), and you are business managers,
the principles upon which we must work have much
in common; more, indeed, than unthinking
observers commonly concede.
I have not had all my years of Ministerial
office without learning quite clearly one of the
delightful oddities of human society. I will put
it in this way. There is something fascinating
about telling the other man how to run his
business. Naturally, the less we know of the
details and difficulties and headaches of that
business, and the less encumbered we are with
training and experience in that business, the
more dogmatic we can be. Dogma is a comfortable
think; it saves thought. Yet no man can reach a
general conclusion of any value unless he has
first studied and mastered the relevant details.
Nevertheless this sober reflection deters
street-corner political philosophers and
newspaper commentators not one whit. The field
we are not in continues to look greener. The
only wisdom I can claim to have achieved is that
I never tell a manufacturer how to make his
goods better or cheaper; though truth compels me
to say that not infrequently he is quite willing
to give me five minutes of his time in which to
solve the problems which have vexed me, in the
study or the Cabinet Room, for years. Having
offered these mild observations to those who may
care to consider them, I make bold to say that
the principles of management are of universal
validity; they are the principles of industrial
and business and political government. Let me
set down and expound a few of them, partly for
your guidance, but even more, I cheerfully
admit, for my own.
The first principle of management is that the
manager should know what he wants to do or to
get done. Infirmity of purpose at the top will
breed indifference, frustration, and confusion
lower down. It is agreeable, in works of fiction
or in the selectively edited autobiographies of
what the Americans call 'tycoons', to read of
the man who succeeded by making a long series of
split-second decisions. But great enterprises
are not made by split-second decisions. The
great decisions are the fruit of research and
labor and skill and imagination. The port of
destination must be selected, the charts laid
out, the crew engaged, the supplies taken
aboard. If storms come, there will be plenty of
room for quick decision, but after the storm the
observations must be taken and the steady course
resumed. Here we have the supreme difficulty of
political management. There are so many
side-currents; the clamor of the moment may
indicate some other port, where, it is said, the
seas are calm and the customers eager. The long
view is never as spectacular as the day-to-day
diversion. Yet without long views democracy
becomes a mere squabble for bread and circuses;
statesmanship disappears, and the adroit
maneuvers of evanescent politics prevail. In the
lengthening history of self-government too may
lofty conceptions have been set aside or
postponed by the cynical comment - "There are no
votes in that!" Yet in every generation there
has been enough resolute statesmanship to
produce a line of progress, sometimes distorted
by passion or prejudice or sheer greed, yet
tending always towards a wider and better life.
So, you see, we have our first principle in
common; for you, the soundest establishment and
long-range development of an enterprise; for a
Prime Minister, some day, the memory not so much
of a debate won or an electoral victory gained
as of a nation advanced in prosperity and
justice.
The second principle of management is that the
manager must do his best with the materials he
has. Management is not a matter of detached
theory, but of theory practice. Every manager
has his team of human beings, fast, slow,
strong, weak. He is not to cry for the moon, or
bite his nails at night, saying, "If only old
Brown or Jones were back with us again!" Now, in
seeking for perfection, we can, if we are not
careful, waste much time and energy. It was
Cicero who said that everything splendid is
rare, and that nothing is harder to find than
perfection. So let us use the materials we have,
with all their imperfections about them as ours
are about us. Get the best team that you can;
train it; encourage it; lead it. You will find,
as many a captain has, that a team of champions
will always be beaten by a champion team.
The third principle of management is that we
should remember that we are not conducting
affairs in a vacuum. We are not dealing on paper
with abstract ideas, but in a hard world with
ideas in relation to men - a very different
matter. Alexander Pope said that 'the proper
study of mankind is man'. He could have
elaborated by saying that the most difficult
study of mankind is man. It is much easier to be
mathematically accurate than to give another man
a sensible direction. For men have at their best
that queer mixture of bad logic and good sense,
of courage when cold reason says 'surrender', of
vigor when, in reason, exhaustion should have
arrived, which makes history by getting things
done. This, you may say, puts a premium on the
practical man, and puts the theorist in his
place. But to say that would be to tell only
half the truth. Theory without practice can
begin as a divine essence but end as a mere
vapor. Practice without theory can become so
narrow and so ignorant that it loses the sense
of direction and of purpose.
Let me develop this. The manager uses men. To
use them effectively he must understand them.
Men are distinguished from machines because they
have ideas and personalities. The strong
'practical' man may drive a chain gang along,
but he will never handle men without
understanding and imagination.
The business manager must realize that his is
not the only business; that his business is
unlikely to succeed in a bankrupt community; and
that he should, therefore, always seek to see
his business in the setting of the business of
the nation. The modern complexity of life
involves a growing interaction between business
and business, between business and government,
between national and international economics.
You can, in the short run, make money quickly,
as Dick Turpin did. But in the long run you
cannot be a good business manager without being
a good and wise and informed and responsible
citizen. Governments must fit themselves to see
economics in the broad. Since a business manager
cannot run his business and the government at
the same time - oddly enough each is a full-time
and absorbing task - he cannot be blamed if,
like the cobbler, he sticks to his last. But I
do beg of him that he should struggle to see the
particular against the background of the
general; so that the sense of profit and the
sense of community, each of them so good, should
co-exist and derive strength one from the other.
Morally and intellectually, the curse of the
world is narrow and exclusive specialism. It is
supremely dangerous, whether it be the
specialism of the manufacturer of milking
machines or of the nuclear physicist.
The fourth principle of management - in order of
importance it should be first - is to establish
a sense of community of interest between manager
and managed. Where there is no underlying sense
of unity, differences become exaggerated and war
becomes the normal. This is true of both
politics and industry.
Take politics. Most of us at Canberra enjoy the
friendliest personal relations. We have great
matters in common. We are all Australians, of
common race, language, literature, traditions,
and religious faith. With few exceptions, we
began life with no advantages of wealth or
social position. We believe in the equal rule of
law and in the dignity of self-government. We
are British through and through. We are for the
Crown. We are the Queen's men and women. We all
believe in progress, in development, in social
justice. What a wealth of agreement we have
here! We disagree, of course, about socialism;
about the limits of functions of government;
about financial policies; about the principles
of administration; about foreign policy; about
many things. But the truth remains that, if we
concentrate on our differences and forget our
unities, politics will sound and be like civil
war. The one thing that the bitter and narrow
partisans forget is that continuity of national
security and growth require, on great matter, a
certain continuity of policy. We secure that by
remembering our unities; we destroy it by
thinking only of our differences. I, as you may
have gathered, am a Liberal, with deep and
strong convictions. My opponents, including men
of great ability, are Socialists. So let the
fight go on. But whoever wins between us, may
Australia win always.
So much for the political managers. What about
the industrial manager? As one who once had a
great deal of first-hand knowledge of industrial
arbitration, I am conscious of its central
weakness. Over fifty years ago, the new
Australian Commonwealth was given power to deal
with certain classes of industrial dispute. No
dispute, no jurisdiction. Fight first, and go to
courts afterwards. The inevitable result has
been that industrial warfare has tended to
become the condition precedent to industrial
peace. This has infected an already difficult
problem, the relation between employer and
employee. Too frequently the question has been,
"How much can I get out of the other fellow?"
when it should have been, "How much can we all
get, if we work together?"
There are certain simple truths which become
obscured by the dust of conflict. One of them is
that there can be no permanent and progressive
employment in an unprofitable business; good
profits are the only guarantee of good wages,
and vice versa. The other is that goodwill is
vital to efficient service, and that the
employer who performs only his legal and
compulsory duty cannot sensibly demand from his
employee a loftier standard than he himself
upholds.
Year by year, we are, as a people, vexed by
foolish industrial disputes from which there
emerge hardships in wage-earners' homes, losses
in trading accounts, a fall in national
production, and anger in the public mind. In
most cases, these disputes have occurred because
the simple truths to which I have referred have
been forgotten.
Politically and industrially, we have major
interests in common, and others on which some
disagreement is necessary and healthy. One of
the great tasks of management is to make these
things clear. To work out, even by dispute, the
terms of partnership is one thing; to forget or
deny partnership is both foolish and suicidal.
The fifth principle of management is, in a
democracy, the hardest to practice. It is, in
brief, to achieve the highest possible measure
of self-help and self-reliance before asking
somebody else to carry the burden. The ancient
question, "Am I my brother's keeper?" has in
modern times been distorted into, "Is not my
brother my keeper?" That mystical creature, the
Government, which nobody has ever seen, has come
to be regarded as the Universal Provider. On
great national issues, Government may well be
the port of ultimate resort; but it should not
be the first port of call. Not so long ago, the
Tariff Board had something to say on this
matter.
That Board, let me remind you, has over along
period of years, established a remarkable degree
of authority, and of service to Australia. That
it is occasionally criticized I admit, yet, by
and large, its methods, its principles, and its
reports have enjoyed the respect of industry and
of the community at large. Its high reputation
has helped Australia in many international trade
and financial negotiations both before and since
the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade. The
work of the Board has, to say the least, not
hindered the sound growth of secondary industry
in Australia. Yet the Board has repeatedly noted
that too many manufacturers, when meeting
competition, think first of added protection as
the quick answer.
In its 1950 Report, the Board said,
"Tariff
protection should be a last resource and not
a sole or even inevitable method of securing
relief from overseas competition."
And again, in its
1953 Report -
"The Board
does not subscribe to the view that the
Tariff should be used in anticipation of
difficulties ahead, neither does it believe
that the Tariff barrier should be the first
line of defense against overseas
competition."
In the same report
it spoke of industry's "capacity for self-help."
These statements were not attacks on the policy
of protection, which indeed needs no defense;
they were designed merely to put things in
perspective. Honest work, good plant, and
efficient management remain the prime weapons
against a burdensome cost structure and
competitive disadvantage.
The sixth principle is that every good manager
is a pioneer. I began this lecture by referring
to William Queale as one who was in the
Australian pioneering tradition. Many times I
have said, and I repeat it tonight, that we do
badly to think of the pioneers as grandfathers,
with beards and bowyangs; dead and gone, their
labors completed. For the truth is that when a
nation gives up pioneering, it goes back. A
pioneer is, quite simply, one who breaks new
ground or sets out on new adventures. His
essence is that he is willing to tackle a new
problem, and has a sense of responsibility for
the future. Such qualities are not common, and
therefore we cannot all be managers. But unless
in every generation we have an adequate supply
of pioneers, future generations will not call us
blessed. Flashy policies, get-rich-quick
schemes, the preferring of big current dividends
to solid reserves for future development; these
are the negation of the pioneering spirit, for
they deny or ignore responsibility for the
future.
Great enterprises cannot stand still in a
growing community; when they do, it is a sign
that they are marked for death. The sad thing,
which we have all noted and which we should all
do our best to dislodge, is that there is such a
widespread popular disposition to be critical of
big men or ideas or enterprises, and
particularly of great and growing enterprises,
as if in some ways their success is inimical to
social justice or rather literal notions of
democratic quality. In truth, they merely show
the pioneering spirit at work; their success is
a proof of the opportunity which democracy
gives, and must continue to give, to talent and
character and energy. In a slave community, the
only great enterprise is despotic government
itself. It is in free communities that the
citizen gets his chance. His growth is the proof
of his freedom.
Before I conclude, let me recapitulate. I have,
it would seem, stated some principles of
management. The manager should know his own mind
and purpose. He should work with the materials
he has, and not with those he would have liked.
He must remember that he is dealing with men and
not abstractions. He must foster a sense of
community of interest among all those who are
engaged in his enterprise. He is to practice
self-help to the limit before appealing to
Government of other people. He must never lose
his capacity for pioneering.
You may dismiss my theme and exposition by
saying that it is all perfectly obvious, and did
not need to be said at all. In a way I hope that
you can say this, and say it truthfully. Nothing
could be more splendid proof of the success of
the Institute and of the men who founded and
inspired it.
One the whole, however, I think that the
criticism is much more likely to take this form
- "Oh yes; it's all very well to make some
academic analysis and produce some counsel of
perfection; but business is a tough practical
business, which has to be learned the hard way,
and there's no room in it for these
pretty-pretty theories." So, before I conclude,
I will say something about "tough practical
men."
A man may be a tough, concentrated, successful
money maker and never contribute to his country
anything more than a horrible example. A manager
may be tough and practical, squeezing out, while
the going is good, the last ounce of profit and
dividend, and may leave behind him an exhausted
industry and a legacy of industrial hatred. A
tough manager may never look outside his own
factory walls or be conscious of his partnership
in a wider world. I often wonder what strange
cud such men sit chewing when their working days
are over, and the accumulating riches of the
mind have eluded them.
The truth is that if the second half of the
twentieth century is to see a restoration of
civilization and peace, a new marriage must
occur between theory and practice; between the
spirit of humanity and the talent of the
individual. If we are not just to blunder along,
from crisis to crisis, from expedient to
expedient, we must have in this world a revival
in all spheres of activity, of the human soul
and the human intellect. Each needs cultivating.
Each needs exercise.
It is worse than foolish, it is dangerous, to
regard the spiritual nature of man as irrelevant
to secular enterprise, or to treat a broad
philosophy of life as an intellectual matter fit
only for the university classroom. The basic
malaise of our brilliantly clever century is
that we have tended to divide our lives into
watertight compartments. The enormous and
dynamic energies of business and productive and
commercial enterprise will reach their fullest
and most useful expression when pure learning
ceases to be a thing apart, when our knowledge
of men catches up with our knowledge of
machines, when industrial statesmanship becomes
recognized as just one branch of a universal
statesmanship, of which the statesmanship of
government will be but a particular expression.
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