The Role of Interests and Agency in the Pursuit of Human Resource Development: Some Lessons

The Role of Interests and Agency in the Pursuit of Human Resource

Development: Some lessons from the past.

Dr Denise Thursfield Leeds Business School Leeds Metropolitan University Beckett Park Leeds LS6 3QS Tel: 0113 2837549 Fax: 0113 2833206 Email: [email protected]

John Hamblett Leeds Business School Leeds Metropolitan University Beckett Park Leeds LS6 3QS Tel: 0113 2837549 Fax: 0113 2833206 Email: [email protected]

Refereed Track

Introduction

The Problem

The benefits of human resource development, at the societal and organisational levels, are undisputed in much of the discourse on economic competitiveness (for example,

DfEE 1998, Fryer 1997, Fryer 1999). Rapid changes in the social and economic fabric of society require a well-trained and well-educated workforce ready to withstand the upheavals associated with the changing nature of work. Individuals who engage in training and development will increase their employability and prospects

(Ibid). Government initiatives aimed at facilitating employee and workforce learning have, however, displayed varying degrees of success. Particular problems associated with such schemes are low levels of participation and the tendency of what we have

1 previously termed ‘skilled learners’ to secure any available funding (Thursfield and

Hamblett 2001, Thursfield, Smith, Holden and Hamblett 2002, unpublished

Workforce Development report 2002).

In this paper we want to argue that the major challenge for HRD policy at the societal level in the 21st century is to engage those individuals and companies that do not engage in learning and training, and whose need for development is possibly the most pressing. In sum, our argument looks like this. We will say that an emergent feature of recent HRD initiatives is a top down approach that places control in the hands of the employer or government agency to the exclusion of participants. A significant entailment of such an approach are learning and development intiaitives infused with complexity and contradiction; intitiaitves that fail to engage those would-be participants who have little or no experience of learning and development.

We seek to illuminate these shortcomings by contrasting such schemes with an early

20th century example of independent working class learning: that of the Labour

College Movement (LCM). The LCM was, for a short period of time, highly successful in creating a thriving learning culture amongst working class adult students. The aim of this paper is to examine the historical evidence pertaining to the

LCM in order to ascertain whether human resource development in the 21st century can learn from the example set by these early protagonists of adult learning.

Our paper will be structured like this: First we outline our general theoretical approach. A largely descriptive section detailing the findings of our historical data collection and summarising the main points of our more recent primary research follows this. We then go on to discuss these findings in terms of their implications for

2 HRD practice today and in the future. Finally, we offer some tentative suggestions as to how these findings might be employed in the design of future HRD initiatives.

Some comments on theoretical issues

We have suggested that the orthodox approach to HRD, defined as the unquestioning acceptance of a set of mutual benefits and shared interests between employer and employee, and agreement over the functional nature of what passes for learning in many HRD schemes, requires revision (Thursfield and Hamblett 2001, Hamblett and

Thursfield 2003 forthcoming). We have, furthermore, suggested that a historical comparative approach can enable a better understanding of HRD now and in the future (Hamblett and Thursfield 2003 forthcoming). The theoretical stance of this paper is a continuation of themes articulated in our past work, and which as been defined as belonging to a radical structuralist paradigm (McGoldrick, Stewart and

Watson 2001:3). We have argued that the prime objective of research should be to further the ‘practical project of self-emancipation’ (Hamblett, Holden and Thursfield

2001:66) and that this project necessarily entails developing an understanding of the

‘conditions of human emancipation in work’ (Op-Cit:67). Thus, our research is premised on the search for social justice and the eradication of the gulf between rich and poor, and that a means of facilitating such an outcome is through learning.

Evidence from our empirical work suggests, however, that the form of learning associated with current HRD practice cannot serve the purpose we have set out above and discussed in our earlier work (Hamblett, Holden and Thursfield 2001). We will attempt to show, in this paper, that in a capitalist system the mutuality of interests between employer and employee cannot be assumed, and that conflict is a natural state of affairs. There is, therefore, little point in attempting to graft a sense of mutuality and shared interests onto a system that is structurally exploitative.

3 By exploring the evidence left by the LCM in their attempt to engender an independent working class education we are able to see how mutuality and interests do figure strongly in the development of learning amongst excluded groups. The shared interests in question are, however, those that exist between individuals occupying the same social circumstances and sharing the same life chances. It is this variety of mutuality that can generate learning cultures rather than the imposed form typified by the orthodox approach to HRD (Hamblett and Thursfield 2003 forthcoming).

Research Design and Methodology

Our empirical research employs a qualitative case study approach, and compares secondary historical evidence with contemporary primary evidence. Secondary data such as books, trade union documents and Plebs League journal editorials collected from the Library of Working Class Movements, Salford, form the basis of the historical case study. Primary data is drawn from research into three types of HRD initiative: Evaluation of a number of Employee Development schemes (EDS, hereafter; see, for example Hamblett and Holden 1998, Thursfield and Hamblett

2001); evaluation of Individual Learning Accounts (ILAs) at both the pilot and roll out stage (Hamblett and Holden 1999, Thursfield, Smith, Holden and Hamblett 2001); and evaluation of Workforce Development (WfD), introduced in 2002. The aim of our overall approach is to draw out the salient features of each case study in order to learn lessons from the past that may be used to assist our understanding of HRD today.

Present day case studies involved interviews with employers, employees and other stakeholders such as TEC and LSC personnel.

4 Results

The Labour College Movement and Plebs league

The Plebs league and the Labour College movement grew out of earlier attempts by working people to provide themselves with an education (National Council of Labour

Colleges 1924). The Workingmen’s College, London, founded 1854; Ruskin College,

Oxford, founded 1899 and the Workers Education Assiciation founded 1903 (Ibid.) were all antecedents of the Plebs League. For the Plebs, however, these institutions failed to provide a suitable education for working men due to the absence of a radical philosophy and the assumption that education should stand above the conflict between capital and labour (Ibid.). The philosophy of the LCM was rooted in the notion that education for working people should confront and challenge class division and inequality in society.

Our story begins in 1908 when a group of Ruskin College students who were unhappy with the content of their course joined together to set up self-study groups based on

Marx’s Capital Vol. 1 (Craik 1964). Subsequent attempts to secure labour control of

Ruskin College met with failure and in October 1908 the Plebs League was set up to fight for such control. In March 1909 the college authorities attempted to remove the subject of sociology from the syllabus resulting in a strike by a number of students.

The scholarship of one particular student, George Sims, was withdrawn. The Plebs response was, with the backing of trades unions such as the South Wales Miners

Federation and rail unions, to set up a Central Labour College to rival Ruskin (Ibid).

By the end of the First World War the labour College Movement had spread throughout the industrial areas of the UK. In particular to South Wales, Scotland and the Midlands (NCLC 1975).

5 The Plebs League and Labour College Movement exemplifies the idea of an

Independent Working class Education (IWCE) which is characterised by four core themes. First, the need for a working class education that does not rely on the patronage of wealthy benefactors. Second, an idealistic conceptualisation of education is rejected in favour of a materialist approach. Third, education is inseparable from the practice of politics. Finally, working class education, as conceived by the Plebs, is based on the inseparability of labour and learning.

The deep desire for an education on the part of working class people in the 19th century is well covered in the literature (for example, Ree 1984, Simon 1965). Radical critics of 19th century education argued that the education offered to working class students comprised of ‘useless knowledge’ (Johnson 1988). That is, knowledge that served the interests of the capitalist class, and which taught servility rather than rights and liberties (Ibid). It was, for example, envisaged by the founders of Ruskin that working men should be taught utilitarian subjects that would prepare them for industrial work, and that the classics as taught in the universities should be proscribed.

Students of Ruskin were to be prepared for citizenship, but were not to be allowed access to Oxford University or to political power (Ree 1984).

A further concern to radical educationalists was that of how to improve the position of the working class as a whole rather than elevate individuals out of their class position.

Social class thus became the focus for critiques of liberal interventions in working class education. Ruskin College was criticised, for example, for its reliance on the support of wealthy patrons who were assured of the practical nature of the education provided to working class students (Craik 1964).

A third matter of concern was the division between ‘Philosophical Radicals’ and

Material Radicals. Material Radicals took issue with the idealistic stance of the

6 Philosophical Radicals that social injustice could be overcome through education.

Such a notion was linked to liberalism, and its outcome would be a liberal rather than radical education that took no account of the material conditions of life experienced by working class students. (Johnson 1979). Thus, the LCM and Plebs League rejected the model of education provided by middle class liberals in favour of an education provided by and for members of the working class. A related critique on the theme of liberal forms of education is the impossibility of objectivity and neutrality in education; education either supports the social order or provides the tools to challenge it. Because society was (and is) characterised by structural inequality and injustice, education based on ideas of objectivity will fail to address causes of inequality and injustice.

In terms of the practicalities of the Labour College classes, again a number of governing principles apply. First, Labour College classes were self-supporting with no donations accepted from rich benefactors (Frow and Frow 1992). Second, Labour

College class tutors were themselves graduates of labour colleges. Middle class, professional tutors were not employed. Third, classes were organised on democratic principles with more advanced students taking responsibility for leading discussions.

Thus, the educational practice of the Plebs was untainted by the influence of liberalism and the ruling class. The subject matter of labour college classes included

Economics (taught on the basis of Marx’s Capital), Industrial History, Economic

Geography, Science of Understanding, Esperanto and Grammar.

The aims of the LCM were, we argue, twofold. To reveal the class identity of working class students and to make this identity the subject of critical reflection and practical development. Second, to advocate self-reliance in the struggle to expose the desired transformation of society and the means by which this could be achieved. The

7 outcome of all this activity was to engender a strong and vibrant learning culture based on recognition of mutuality and shared interests.

HRD Today

Recent attempts by the New Labour government to facilitate HRD through promotion of learning cultures have their origin in the presumption of a shift from an industrial or Fordist to post-industrial or post-Fordist world. Societies, organisations and individuals must, if they are to withstand the effects of change, engage in HRD (for example, DfEE 1998, Fryer 1997, Fryer 1999).

Initiatives to encourage a learning culture vary in terms of the control exercised by employees and the nature and type of learning allowed. Our first example, EDS were imported from the USA in the late 1980s and are characterised by an emphasis on the development of the individual rather than work related training (Forrester, Payne and

Ward 1995), a degree of choice on the part of learners, the pre-eminence of employees in the administration of the scheme, and voluntary participation in learning activity. The employer or government agency provides the finance for education or training chosen by the learner.

Mutuality is fundamental to EDS. For, a basic assumption definitive of all such schemes is that whatever learning is undertaken by an employee will increase his or her value to the employer, and equal benefit will accrue to both parties. The extent to which these positive characteristics are present in reality is, however, contested. We have, in our earlier work, and based on extensive research into EDS funded through the now defunct Training and Enterprise Councils, questioned the extent of mutuality and commonality of interests in such schemes. Rather, EDS are on occasions employed as a means of overcoming industrial unrest during periods of deteriorating conditions of employment. (Thursfield and Hamblett 2001, Hamblett, Holden and

8 Thursfield 2001). Evidence suggests, furthermore, that some employers view EDS as a means of appropriating government funding to finance work related training

(Thursfield and Hamblett 2001). In addition, the level of control over administrative arrangements for EDS, and over what counts as legitimate learning is variable

(Holden, Smith, Thursfield and Hamblett, forthcoming 2003).

The contradictions intrinsic to EDS are reflected in take up rates and participant characteristics. Take up by employees averages around 20%, and our research suggests a preponderance of skilled learners. That is, individuals with a history of engagement with formal learning. EDS is not, therefore, an effective vehicle through which to encourage low skilled and qualified individuals in learning.

Our second example, ILAs, was introduced in 1998 (withdrawn in 2001 due to evidence of fraud). ILAs were again administered by the TECs. The scheme involved a £25 contribution from the individual account holder and a £150 contribution from the TEC. The account holder took the decision over what course of learning to follow, although within constraints imposed by the scheme. The underlying principles were to engage those who had not, in the past, involved themselves in learning, and that learning should increase the employability of the account holder. ILAs were, in addition, to be vocational but not directly related to the individual’s current occupation. These rather contradictory rules resulted in confusion over the type of study allowed. It is questionable as to whether, for example, an academic qualification that increases employability should be defined as vocational or non-vocational. Our evidence also suggests that some companies applied for ILAs on behalf of their workforce and, as with ED, used ILA funding to finance company specific training

(Thursfield, Smith, Holden and Hamblett 2001).

9 Take up of ILAs was high in comparison to EDS. Our TEC example exceeded targets by 2.4% and 1,262 accounts were opened. Like EDS, however, the majority of account holders (88%) were not from the low skilled group. 40% held NVQ level 3 qualifications or above and 75% had participated in organised learning in the previous year.

Our final example, WfD, is a recent initiative administered by the Learning and Skills

Councils. The scheme is designed to facilitate an increase in training amongst firms whose record of training is minimal. Companies can claim either 40% of costs or

£800 towards training. A further aim is to develop the role of a broker whose remit is to assist firms to assess training needs and access training providers. The firm takes sole responsibility for the decision over the type of training required, with little or no involvement expected from the workforce. Evaluative research of one Workforce

Development pilot scheme carried out by the authors of this paper during the spring and summer of 2002 suggests that the aims of the scheme were not, in this particular example, achieved. The majority of firms accessing Workforce Development have a history of training and developing their employees. More interestingly, many were skilled in the art of drawing down government funding for training and development

(unpublished report to LSC).

Although the above schemes differ in emphasis, for example, on the involvement of learners in deciding what should be learned, there are a number of similarities. A definitive characteristic common to EDS and ILAs was that of individualism and personal choice. The learner is responsible for deciding what to learn and how, and, by implication, what counts as 'useful knowledge.' Related to this is the notion, rooted in liberal ideas of education, that all learning is equally beneficial. This point is

10 particularly relevant in relation to EDS. The emphasis placed on the primacy of employees in the practicalities of the scheme implies an attempt to shift control away from the employer towards the individual learner. Similarly, ILAs were advertised as an attempt to give individuals an opportunity to acquire the human capital needed to ensure employability in an area chosen by the learner.

In theory, then, EDS and ILAs differed in crucial respects to the WfD initiative that succeeded them. In practice, however, the former two schemes display strong similarities to the latter. It could even be argued that the progression to WfD was merely a means of formalising the emergent practical characteristics of EDS and

ILAs. Although individual choice was, in theory, a cornerstone of these initiatives, fundamental decisions were often given over to the employer. In one particular firm the TEC funded EDS was nothing more than IT training aimed at meeting the business needs of the company. Employees were denied information on the nature of

EDS and were unable, therefore, to make an informed decision as to whether participation was in their best interests (Thursfield and Hamblett 2001). A second company, again utilising TEC funding, allowed for only Tai Chi or Italian classes.

The second activity was designed to assist the firms employees overcome stress at work. The first was aimed at facilitating the firm's attempt to break into European markets (Hamblett, Holden and Thursfield 2001). In sum, although some organisations did implement EDS in the spirit in which they were intended (Ibid,

Holden et al forthcoming 2003), the opportunity to appropriate government funds for job related training was too strong for some firms to resist.

The potential for the perversion of EDS in practice is comparable to that of ILAs. A principle of ILAs was that individual account holders would, within certain constraints, choose their own learning path, and that learning should not be related to

11 current job. However, evidence again reveals a willingness on the part of employers to misappropriate ILA monies to supplement training budgets. Thus, in our earlier evaluation of ILAs we show how the business director of one particular firm viewed

ILAs as a tool to help the firm finance training (Thursfield et al 2001). We also describe how a second firm perceived ILAs as a government initiative to help them fund firm specific training needs. This company went so far as to apply for ILAs on behalf of their workforce, thus denying them the opportunity to choose their own learning path.

It is argued, then, that in each of the three schemes discussed, rhetoric runs contrary to reality. This insofar as each scheme diminishes, to varying degrees, an individual's choice over what they learn and how they learn. Further, and relatedly, although liberal notions of the universally beneficial character of all learning is used as an article of faith and justification, in the above examples only learning that is of direct benefit to the companies is deemed to be useful. In sum, EDS, ILAs and WfD display characteristics which, in practice, constrain individualism, choice and control on the part of the learner. These modern attempts at HRD differ fundamentally from the model of learning exemplified by the Labour college Movement and our aim now is to elaborate on these differences in order to inform future practice.

Discussion

Interests and Agency and the Implications for HRD in the 21st Century

Mainstream approaches to adult learning and HRD presuppose a set of shared interests, whether between the employer and employee or between employer, employee and society. Thus, an employee who rejects an opportunity for skills and personal development is deemed to be acting irrationally. As Keep and Mayhew

(1999) argue, however, emphasising individual responsibility for training fails to take

12 account of discrimination in the workplace. Discrimination that can distort the possible rewards of engagement available to certain groups. We have argued previously that the foundation for individual blame rests upon an inadequate analysis of the complex and conflictual relationship between capital and labour (Thursfield and Hamblett 2001). To understand why the mainstream approaches to HRD described earlier sometimes fail, in general terms, to capture the imagination of employees requires consideration of the concepts 'interests' and 'agency'. In particular, the articulation of interests and agency within given social and economic structures.

Our definition of interests is taken directly from the work of Callinicos (1989).

Interests presume wants, but the concept of interest concerns not the wants as

such, but the possible modes of their realization in given sets of

circumstances; and these can be determined as “objectively” as anything in

social analysis. Secondly, these modes of realization will depend crucially on

agents’ structural capacities, that is, on the powers they derive from their

position in the relations of production. A worker and a capitalist will have very

different ways open to them of realizing their respective wants […] Agents

may have different wants, but their ability to realize them will depend on their

shared position in the relations of production. Only persons have interests, but

they will share them with others in the same class position. Finally, and

following on from this last point, agents interests are likely to conflict, since

their different positions in the relations of production mean that they can only

realize their wants by pursuing courses of action which cause them to clash. A

capitalist, so long as he remains a capitalist, can only realize his wants by

exploiting workers, while the latter’s realization of their wants is likely to

depend on collective organization against him (Op-cit.:129).

13 In short, interests are realised when, and only when, agents join together to recognise their shared wants and take steps, within the constraints of circumstances, to bring about their effectuation. What is needed is a shift from passivity to conscious activity.

Or, in the terminology of Archer (2002), from primary to corporate agency. Agents are, according to Archer, necessarily agents of something; that is, ‘agents of the socio- cultural system into which they are born (Op-cit.: 262). Primary agency is a property acquired by all humans at the outset of life:

Thus, humanity enters society through the maternity ward doors and we

immediately acquire the properties of Primary Agents through belonging to

particular collectivities and sharing their privileges or lack of them – as

males/females; blacks/whites; foreigners/indigenous; middle class/working

class (Archer 2002: 262).

In order for powerless collectivities (in contrast to individuals who break free of their collectivities) to overcome their underprivileged status they must develop the means of collective action. They must acquire for themselves the status of corporate agents. thus:

Its (corporate agency) typical powers are capacities for articulating shared

interests, organising for collective action, generating social movements and

exercising corporate influence in decision making. Corporate Agents act

together and interact with other agents and they do so strategically, that is in a

manner that cannot be construed as the summation of individuals’ self-interest.

To talk of strategic action implies that Corporate Agents are ‘active’ rather

than ‘passive’, that is they are social subjects with reasons for attempting to

14 bring about certain outcomes, rather than objects to whom things happen (Op-

Cit.:266).

It may appear, at this stage, that we are straying too far from our stated concern; that being to develop an understanding of how HRD might be progressed today in the context of an historical analysis of the LCM and Plebs league. We want to say, however, that the above deliberations take us to the heart of our argument. For the

Plebs achievement in the educational arena was critical to the transformation from

Primary Agents to Corporate Agents. This transformation occurred as a result of the

Plebs recognition and pursual of shared interests through the medium of education.

These shared interests of working class people converged, for the Plebs, around the aim of advancing the interests of the working class as a class. Eradication of structured inequalities and poverty would be possible when the working class developed a class consciousness:

What the wage-labourers, above all, require is a consciousness that they are a

class, that, as a class, they have to face a common or general problem, and

that, as a class, they alone can furnish the general solution. Generalisation is

the nature of conscious (‘The Pebs’ 1913:1)

The means of engendering this consciousness was that of education and the Plebs’ view that the interests of working people could be advanced through education was premised on the idea of a radical education based on a materialist ontology. Liberal forms of education that failed to confront material inequalities could not serve the interests of working people. The role of education as a means of furthering the working class cause was also suffused with notions of what constitutes useful knowledge. For liberal leaning educationalists any knowledge is valuable.

15 To them (liberal educationalists) education is something that stands above the

continual struggle that goes on between Co-operatives and Capitalist stores,

between Trade Unions and Employers Federations […] Moreover, they are, on

the whole, quite unaware that the ‘orthodox’ education in any class system of

society is bound to be an education that in bulk coincides within the needs of

the governing class; for economic and political control involve educational

control (NCLC 1924 education for emancipation pg4)

Topics taught in Labour College classes aimed, therefore, to illuminate the shared interests of working class students. To achieve the independence required to propagate useful knowledge, the Plebs adopted the stance on funding described earlier in the paper; classes were self-funded or funded by trades unions and wealthy benefactors were scorned.

A final point relating to the recognition of shared interests concerns the interlinkages between the various corporate agents attempting to further working class interests.

The Labour College Movement and Plebs League was supported, financially, by trades unions, specifically by the South Wales Miners Federation and the National

Union of Railwaymen (from 1913 onwards) (NCLC Annual Report South East

Lancashire Area council). Support also came from the Gasworkers (Ibid) and the amalgamated Union of Building Trade Workers (AUBTW 1922).

The learning culture created by the Plebs is in sharp contrast to the modern day HRD programmes described above. Whereas the Plebs League was democratic and emergent from recognition of shared wants, modern day HRD interventions such as

EDS, ILAs and Workforce Development are externally conceptualised (both in terms of content and delivery) forms of learning imposed on a hierarchical set of workplace relations. Useful knowledge is defined in terms of narrow, job related, vocational

16 competencies. Even where, as with EDS and ILAs, an attempt at a liberal form of education is made, in practice the learning allowed is the practical know-how for specific occupations or jobs. We could even venture a suggestion that this approach to adult learning owes much to the predecessors of the Plebs League described in an earlier section. A further fundamental difference between the LCM and present day

HRD concerns the issue of control. Whereas the Plebs were independent and able to decide for themselves what and how they learned, the modern day schemes described in this paper offer a prescribed and restricted form of learning. Learning that is designed, in general, for the (perceived) benefit of employers rather than employees.

These points are reflected in take up rates and participant characteristics. Either EDS or ILAs are popular amongst low-skilled non-traditional learners.

We should make it clear at this stage that we are not suggesting that a resurgence of a group such as the Plebs League would have impact on current HRD practice. The

Plebs were located in a particular temporal, social and economic environment.

Developments in the employment structure associated with the alleged shift from

Industrial to Post-Industrial society (for example Amin 1992, Kumar 1995) have resulted in the decline of traditional industries and, therefore, the number of individuals belonging to the industrial working class. Such an economic and social climate is, so the argument might proceed, unlikely to facilitate the emergence of a group of Corporate Agents whose aim is to transform society for the benefit of the working class through education.

This notion of a decline of the working class is not, however, left unchallenged.

Beynon (1992), for example, argues that whilst traditional industries such as coal mining, steel and manufacturing are in decline; the types of occupation, for example fast food restaurants and call centres, replacing them are similarly unpleasant.

17 Bradley, Erickson, Stephenson and Williams (2000) argue that working class identities and adversarial relations between employers and employees remain a feature of working life today. It could be argued, then, that the notion of shared interests remains salient in the search for HRD interventions on a societal level. What is needed, however, is a shift away from the attempt to portray externally imposed learning as somehow offering mutual benefits to the employer and employee. As

Forrester et al (1995) argue, there is a propensity for a negative experience at work to impinge upon individuals’ experience of EDS. Subjects such as Tai chi, Italian and computing may be beneficial in terms of vocational training, but offer little in the way of personal development and the meeting of employees’ needs. It is possible that recognition of shared interests by working class employees serves to restrain rather than facilitate HRD.

Conclusion

We argue, in conclusion, that the lessons learned from history suggest the need for a new approach to HRD at the societal and organisational levels. In order to facilitate learning on the part of those previously unengaged, the benefits of engagement should be observable, salient to the material conditions of workplace life and, therefore, be meaningful to participants. Workplace discrimination on the grounds of gender, class or age will identified by Keep and Mayhew will serve to thwart this outcome. Such an outcome cannot, furthermore, be achieved without a recognition by prospective learners of the shared interests between themselves and others living and working under the same circumstances. Attempts by employers and governments to conceal these shared interests, and to promote the notion of mutuality between capital and labour have been shown to be unsuccessful in practice. In short, what is needed is a shift from primary agency to corporate agency by employees and the development of

18 a learning culture emergent from a recognition of shared interests. Whilst it must be recognised that the experience of the LCM cannot be transposed to today’s economic and social environment, there remains in place a section of society for whom individual advancement has not taken place and for whom orthodox approaches to

HRD are meaningless.

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