Challenging Hierarchy in Arts and Cultural Organizations

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MAKING THE CASE FOR CHANGE:

CHALLENGING HIERARCHY IN ARTS AND CULTURAL

ORGANIZATIONS

ROSE GINTHER

Integrated Studies Project

submitted to Dr. Collette Oseen

in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

Master of Arts – Integrated Studies

Athabasca, Alberta

April, 2010 Art and organization: two words that some might say are disparate and perhaps even paradoxical, yet in western culture, organizing and the arts are frequently as bonded together as politics and government. But is the application of hierarchical organizing principles in the management of art production and distribution inevitable and most desirable? How has this evolved into accepted practice and what are the repercussions of this practice? Why, even into the new millennium, has organizing in the arts most often emulated business models rather than the messy, postmodern process of art making itself? And why does this model persist more strongly than others like collectives or artist cooperatives?

While some artist collectives and artist-run centres exist in Canada and throughout the United

States, many of these organizations are still run in a hierarchical fashion with a staff in place to complete administrative work like fundraising, marketing and to carry out the tasks necessary to produce or exhibit the work, and a board of directors that governs the organization. How well these organizations succeed in their work depends on a combination of factors including their ability to attract earned revenue through ticket sales or attendance, their ability to secure government or private sector funding and in the production of the art itself. Based on a corporate model but working in the non-profit sector, most groups, despite administrators best efforts (including the larger groups of symphony orchestras, and ballet and opera companies) are continually marginalized due to scarcity of resources, putting art and artists continually at risk. In the best scenario, small collectives and artist run centres include artists in the decision making. In the worst, in large hierarchical organizations, artists are on the fringes, at the mercy of a patriarchal board in charge of their art and their livelihood.

Recognizing the issue, in 2005 the Canada Council for the Arts commissioned a study to investigate alternatives to existing organizing practices. This study, entitled Flexible

Management Models, sprang from the growing realization that arts organizing practices from the 1960s and 70s may no longer be appropriate and the Council set out to investigate alternative, flexible management models for artists, collectives and small arts organizations. One of the critical findings of the report was that “non-formal or alternative producing entities require new supporting administrative and management structures.” (Marsland, p. 4) Marsland also recommended that discipline specific funding programs that support these new management models be put into place, recognizing that without funding, change was unlikely to occur. (p. 5)

Unfortunately, to date few funding programs exist that assist artists and arts managers with developing these new arts management models.

In organizational theory, hierarchy in organizations is the grand narrative of management, thought to be beyond question and doubt. This paper questions this grand narrative of hierarchy in arts organizations by examining the historical connections to the corporate sector, by deconstructing the hierarchical ideas surrounding arts organizing and exploring alternative organizing strategies.

Is Hierarchy Inevitable?

The culture of any society exerts pressures toward eliciting types of behavior and ways of being seen as desirable, including our organizational structures. Mark Weinberg (1992) declared that

3 there is an expectation that every group will develop a hierarchy and that, citing Ridgeway

(1983) hierarchy is “a pattern of power and deference relations among the members characterized by a series of ranks occupied by members who share different degrees of power and prestige.” (p. 9) These various patterns of power, support decision making and the distribution of rewards within an organization. Collectives, according to Weinberg, are organized to avoid them whenever possible and use them “only to support goals of equalization of influence and ability.” (p. 9) So why is hierarchy so well entrenched in arts organizing when the making of art is typically an individual or collective process and rarely a hierarchical process? A scan of the literature available on the topic reveals that accepted organizing practice has modeled the business sector. In his publication Management and the Arts, William

J. Byrnes (2003) talks about the process of arts organizing and states that organizing is a process of “dividing work into manageable components”. (p. 7) Byrnes believes that ‘levels’ in management employed in organizing these components are essential in running an arts organization. He advocates for three levels: Upper (Strategic), Middle (Operational) and Lower

(Daily Operations) Management and presents this model in the traditional, hierarchical, top- down fashion. (p. 7)

This model clearly delineates Byrnes’ beliefs in the value of hierarchical organizing but he fails to provide rationale for these organizing principles. Why levels? Why is the management structure aligned so closely with organizing in the corporate sector? Where are the artists in this model? His only concession in terms of alternative strategies comes from a brief reference to horizontal coordination and that “a successful production, concert, or exhibition often

4 requires that different departments cooperate and communicate over an extended period of time.” (p. 124)

The advent of hierarchy in arts organizing

Is it the act of organizing or organizations themselves that we need to examine? It may be helpful to begin with an exploration of what is meant by the terms ‘organizing’ and

‘organization’. Joan Acker (1995) points out that organizing refers to how “organizations are continually constituted through practices and processes that occur through the actions of organizational participants.” (p. 137) Acker believes that these organizing processes and principles are grounded in “fundamental social arrangements and understandings” and are supported by powerful interest groups. “But they become nonexistent when no one carries them out, when people stop organizing.” (p. 137) In essence, an organization does not exist without the action of the people involved and without a purpose for its existence. If the people retreat or withdraw from the act of organizing and the reason for its existence wanes then the organization ceases to exist; the agency resides with the people not the organization itself.

What’s interesting is that most research and writing on the topic refers to the organization far more than the act of organizing. In Acker’s view, this emphasis on the organization conceptualizes organizations in “abstract, gender-neutral terms” and “is consistent with the processes through which power is organized”. (p. 138)

Who is best served by these organizing principles and who is not? Acker (1995) refers to the pressure for most organizations to conform to hierarchical organizing principles as “a gendered

5 logic of organization” that forms a sort of blueprint for how things “are to be arranged to produce an efficiently functioning whole…” (p. 139) In most cases, this efficient functioning relies on …”a gender neutral worker whose central commitment is to the organization and who has no competing time or emotional obligations…” (p. 139) According to Acker this organizational logic stems from the very nature of our industrial society where production is separated from the rest of human activity. “This division and the organizing practices that support it are deeply gendered, and include sets of taken-for granted organizational practices that assume a male participant.” (p. 139) Acker’s assertions shed an important light on what might be the most destructive element of hierarchical organizing in the arts: its relative inappropriateness for women working in the field. If work and life are typically bound separately from the family and home life obligations, how are women to participate fully?

Lather (1991) explored the research surrounding this issue further and found that “A variety of incompatible directions are available in the culture of science, all competing for allegiance.

…focus has shifted from “are the data biased?” to “Whose interests are served by the bias?” (p.

14) and “How do our very efforts to liberate perpetuate the relations of dominance?” (p. 16)

Bolman and Deal (2008) cite Helgesen (1995) who agrees that the idea of hierarchy is primarily a male-driven depiction, quite different from the structures created by female executives. (p.

86) Women build integrated and organic organizations that emphasize open nurturing relationships that focus on communication, rather than the “the niceties of hierarchical rank”.

(p. 86) Placing themselves at the centre, rather than at the top of the organization, Helgesen

6 asserts that this improves access, ease of organizational decision making and fosters a feeling of equality through forming a “web of inclusion”. (p. 86)

This web of inclusion portrays an organic organizational form that appears more circular than hierarchical. “The web builds from the centre out. Its architect works much like a spider, spinning new threads of connection and reinforcing existing strands.” (p. 86) With the centre and periphery connected by these strands, the entire configuration becomes an interconnected web in which all parts are inexplicably linked. All parts of the web are important and all serve to strengthen each other.

While the web of inclusion is an appealing model, at issue is that the larger the organization, the less likely the web is likely to remain strong, particularly over the long term. Each strand becomes longer and more remote from the centre. But is the only alternative to this feminist model to revert to hierarchical strategies? Through time, as the environment changes around them, even stable hierarchical organizations must eventually restructure when the gap between them and the changing environment becomes increasingly wide. (Bolman/Deal, p. 90)

Yet inclusive arts organizing strategies remain rare.

How did we get here?

Guttman (2009) asserts that “Since the Industrial Revolution, most business organizations have been hierarchically structured entities in which authority and decision-making responsibility emanated from a central hub at the top of the organization.” (p. 268) This ‘command and control’ culture bore a striking resemblance to the military where leaders were feared and

7 revered and decisions were typically made quickly and without significant consultation. This definition reinforces Acker’s view of the role of power in organizing. But how does this apply to the arts? Throughout the twentieth century as arts production moved from an artist driven model, arts groups began to organize out of economic necessity. Many arts organizations, dependent on corporate and public funders, emulated these hierarchical business structures.

Seen to be highly efficient, the hierarchical model allowed arts groups to align themselves more closely with what were seen as ’good business practices’ to assure funders and patrons that they were being responsibly managed, ensuring greater access to funding. This access to funding was made possible through the close association non-profit arts groups have with their board of directors, usually comprised of representatives of elite business establishments.

However, in aligning themselves in this way, arts groups also suffered claims of elitism and exclusion while the corporate sector reaped the benefits of the association with the artists.

DiMaggio and Useem ( 1982) explore these power arrangements and the various ways that the arts “facilitate class reproduction through their legitimation and screening value for the upper and middle classes.” In their view the upper class comprises those who own or manage large business firms as well as families of substantial inherited wealth while the upper-middle-class

(citing Bernstein, 1975) consists of ‘agents of symbolic control’; educated individuals including teachers, lawyers, doctors, journalists. (p. 182)

The legitimation they speak of refers to business sponsorship of the arts. “Close identification of big business with high culture through patronage and service on governing boards can yield

8 an image of respectability and civic-mindedness…at a time when corporations are under increasing public suspicion.” (p. 182) According to DiMaggio and Useem, the screening value of high arts is seen where high culture is used as a “token of class acceptability. Possession of cultural capital, of which familiarity with the arts is a central component, is of considerable salience for ascent into the top positions of large companies and for the participation in elite status groups.” (p. 183) Their point is that in the screening role, the content of the art is less important than the fact that it can be monopolized by the upper and upper middle classes.

“For the legitimation role, the content of high culture is crucial since business legitimacy is furthered only through support of artistic works consonant with the values of individualism and hierarchy.” ( p. 183) In 1982, DiMaggio and Useem argued that this system of class domination of the arts - “the monopolization of cultural resources and the maintenance of exclusive cultural tastes within the upper-class status group” – was being challenged by increases in public subsidy and by the increased use of business administrative procedures by professional arts managers. They foresaw a shift from elite control to corporate control. In the ensuing 30 years, has this been the case? It appears that Useem and DiMaggio were on to something.

While the total number of attendees to arts events has increased over the years, the control of the cultural capital has not given way to the masses, particularly in the large cultural organizations evident in Canada’s cities. In fact, the larger the arts organization the more corporate influence there appears to be, confirming their suspicions that corporations were taking the place of the elite in the arts. Glancing through virtually any major symphony, opera or ballet program booklet in North America reveals a strong connection to the corporate sector.

DiMaggio and Useem cite Max Weber (1968) who contended that status groups vie with one another to maintain and control scarce cultural resources and that in this process, “dominant status groups both ensure the over selection of their offspring and the appropriate socialization of new members.” (p. 183) In other words, the cycle is repeated, benefiting those most closely aligned with the power structure.

How has this impacted the very nature of what is produced, exhibited and performed? Useem and DiMaggio believe that the control that is wielded and held by the board of directors “whose members belong to solidary, localized and tightly integrated upper-class status groups” combined with the development of these organizations was essential in establishing the cultural capital in America and elsewhere. (p. 187) This cultural capital, dependent on those in power and with authority, reinforces and helps to maintain the status quo for this economic group.

What effect has this class domination had?

In large part, elite control of the arts emerged when arts groups began to organize themselves into non-profit organizations early in the 1900s. The formalization of these groups helped to produce a clearer boundary between what might be considered high and popular culture. Non- profit groups historically by nature rely heavily on elite boards of directors which, by the end of the nineteenth century – were focused heavily on the “standardization of repertoire and exclusive attention to European fine-arts music.” Orchestras were no longer musician-run cooperatives but had become hierarchical organizations, controlled by wealthy elites.

(Useem/DiMaggio, p. 187) Museums underwent similar transformations, from “boisterous, carnival-like commercial ventures that combined art with scientific curiosities”, to museums which were dedicated largely to aesthetic and scholarly criteria, broad educational goals abandoned. This process resulted in a decline in public enthusiasm and attendance, further cementing and ensuring the arts organization’s reliance on the patronage of the elite. The composition of these non-profit boards differed from city to city, sometimes eliciting status competition between rival upper class groups. However, “despite variations, by 1900 urban elites had not only appropriated but defined the nature of high culture.” (p. 189)

What impact did this appropriation by the elite classes have on the way that arts groups organized themselves?

As stated by DiMaggio and Useem “boards consisting of prestigious trustees may be either elite or corporate depending on the strength of trustees’ social, kinship and communal ties.” (p.

189) But how does this affect the actions of the board, their decision making and the organization itself? The key difference appears to be that elite boards are primarily status based, concerned with the screening of high culture while corporate boards are most concerned with the “legitimating functions of the arts and arts patronage.” (p. 190)

Elite boards were traditionally comprised of individuals representing the upper class social community who were committed to ensuring the survival of the organization. More importantly, they committed to preserve “the exclusivity of artistic presentations, maintain the community’s monopolization of cultural capital, and to ensure that the organization remained a

11 fitting site for rituals of class solidarity.” (p. 190) In other words, their mission was to ensure that the organization remained exclusive, the decision making within their control. Hierarchical organizational structures typically rely on hierarchical decision making strategies. So too do the elite boards who wield this control and who are likely to resist the extension of control to those outside the elite any more than necessary to ensure financial stability in the organization.

“…because democratizing policies would, in the long run, dilute the value of their group’s cultural capital and threaten the role of the arts organization in the social life of their group.”

(p. 190) Citing Salem (1976) Peterson (1986) reports that early elite boards even shunned the very marketing efforts that brought in new audiences. This economic irrationality defines the difference between the elite and the corporate boards of the twenty-first century. (p. 171)

All one has to do is consider the titles given to performing arts centres across North America to uncover the corporate influence that has become so prevalent in the past thirty to fifty years.

From The Sony Centre for the Performing Arts in Toronto to Rexall Place in Edmonton, corporate influence is present. While most corporations cloak their contributions in rhetoric surrounding ‘the good of the community’ and ‘the importance of art in our society’, one wonders how much of the impetus for these contributions is driven simply by public relations.

By contributing to the arts, these companies hope to appease a public that is increasingly disdainful of hegemony and suspicious of corporate philanthropy. For arts groups, corporate influence on their boards further reinforces the hierarchy these corporate executives are familiar and comfortable with. However artists, driven to create, sometimes circumvent these processes by simply working together to produce and exhibit their art. And with the intensity

12 of technological, economic and cultural change over the past thirty to forty years, some new models have sprung up to foster inclusion rather than the exclusion exhibited in a hierarchy.

Collectives: The future of arts organizing?

While artist collectives offer an alternative to the more traditional, hierarchical management structure, these collectives may not work well in all situations. Arising from the political upheaval that began in the 1960s, when the exploitative nature of social and economic policies that resulted in cultural and economic hegemony were being more closely examined and questioned, those on the left of the political spectrum began to call for a return to the people and people’s interests. This was mirrored, or perhaps assisted by, a corresponding rise in people’s art, especially in theatre. According to Mark Weinberg (1992) this rise in the modification to organizing in theatre was greater than anything seen before. His view is that the new organization displaced hierarchy in favour of a democratic, non-hierarchical structure or collective. (p. 2) Contemporary collectives have sought to organize themselves in ways that challenge assumptions about organizing, about society as well as the way that theatre itself is created. What exactly is a collective and how does it function differently from an organization with a hierarchy? Collective denotes a collective activity that is inclusive of all those involved –

“a worker-managed, worker-controlled project which attempts to function non-hierarchically and tries to make group decisions by consensus.” (p. 9) However, some structure must be in place. In collectives, Weinberg echoes Helgesen (1995), saying that there is a necessary ‘centre’ of this social order that focuses on problem solving and communication. What Weinberg believes is that this centre in collectives differs from other task groups in that they tend to have

13 a common belief system that incorporates common values, norms and roles. (p. 9) In his book entitled Challenging the hierarchy (1992), Weinberg chronicles several of these collectives and provides insights as to their relative advantages and disadvantages. According to Weinberg,

“The structure that has come to be most representative of the ultimate goals of the people’s theatre, and that has produced some of its most exciting work, is collective creation – the creation of a production group that shares power and responsibility as fully as possible.” (p. 5)

Arising from the politicization of theatre during the sixties, this movement uses theatre as a weapon to explore and exploit political themes. For these groups, collective organization is the means to duplicate the egalitarian society that they seek. In 1992, Weinberg lamented the fact that so little research has been done in this area saying that “…there is an underlying assumption that collectively organized task groups cannot function. Why has such a conclusion been reached and why has it been accepted not only by business, but by the arts and their funding sources as well?” (p. 6)

The reasons, according to Weinberg, begin with the fact that scholars define interaction between individuals for the purpose of production according to profit and loss, rarely considering the nature of the group as system. Early collectives were described as more familial than functional with an emphasis on relationships rather than the production of the product itself. (p. 7) Robert Jenkins, a scholar who examined these collectives and the relationships within them wrote in 1980 that “because these groups perceive of themselves as families, an individual’s departure can be traumatic and acquiring a replacement is extraordinarily difficult.” (p. 7) No wonder so many art collectives are unable to survive the

14 founder’s departure. This emphasis on the familial structure also explains the relative absence of research completed on collectives. Most analysts would assume that they are already familiar with this structure since it so closely emulates the familial structure that most of us can relate to. The irony here is that it is this focus on the family that “is reinforced by the anti- establishment stance of most collectives – a stance that makes each of them seem to be an entity that is detached from the influence of outside or traditional patterns of operation and knowable only as a unique venture.” (Weinberg, p. 7)

The final reason, elaborated by Weinberg, that collectives have not had the opportunity to study themselves relates to their relative isolation and the constant need to seek finances to maintain their existence. Collectives are by nature and necessity focused more on the practice of art making than on the administrative tasks associated with it.

Still, while the reasons for their success remain mysterious, collectives deserve a closer look. If collectives demonstrate a successful method of arts organizing that works outside the hierarchical system, why doesn’t more collective organizing occur in arts and culture?

Weinberg provides a possible answer by asking a pivotal question: “Is each collective the result of a unique combination of individual personalities who cannot establish a methodology that can be communicated and perpetuated?” (p. 8) Are collectives so individually focused, one so unlike the other, that we are unable to apply principles broadly to them? A closer examination reveals several principles upon which collectives may be built.

Weinberg points out that, even loosely-knit collectives must establish some structure around decision making. Some groups, heavily influenced by hierarchical structures with which they are familiar, may defer to participants who they perceive is an expert or natural leader. Other groups rely on participatory democracy, “allowing all people who will share the results of the decision to have access to the process.” (p. 13) The final authority in this case, is the majority which, at first glance, appears quite promising. However, a drawback in this scenario is that minority members may be reticent to voice their opinions against a strong majority and this process leaves little or no room for debate when many outnumber a few. To avoid these issues, Weinberg reports that many collectives utilize consensus: “…decisions are made only when agreement is unanimous, and the strenuous objections of even one member are sufficient to demand the reevaluation of any decision.” (p. 13) This is remarkable. If collectives can come to consensus and move forward without getting bogged down in endless debate, this is a wonderful, empowering and inclusive method of organizing for artists. Weinberg also points out that although this method of decision making may seem at first glance cumbersome, the aim is to take the focus off of the individual and to put it on to what is best for the group as a whole, contributing to a decrease in self-serving behavior. Perhaps most importantly, this process “returns control of the means of decision making – the means of the process of artistic production – to the workers who develop the performance piece.” (p. 14)

Weinberg further explores the differences between collective organizing and hierarchical organizing by detailing four main differences in the organizational structure: leadership structure, socio-metric structure, status structure and communication structure. (p. 10)

Leadership in most organizations focuses on one or more individuals ‘at the top’ who have taken on the decision making which necessarily limits the distribution of power to those individuals reinforcing the idea of those with power and those without. In collectives, this leadership often appears like a leadership void in that no one person is tasked with the role of leader. (p. 10) This conception of shared responsibility is in direct opposition to the typical hierarchical organization but ironically and perhaps appropriately reflects a common method of creative collaboration used in theatre where ideas are built one upon the other or even in grass-roots fashion, from the ground up rather than dictated from the top down.

The second difference between hierarchical organizing and collectives purported by Weinberg, socio-metric structures, describes “the pattern of emotional relations between individual members in a group.” (p. 10) Because of similar attitudes and beliefs prevalent in collectives and the absence of status or class differences, personal relationships may intensify disruptions in the group’s cohesiveness. According to Weinberg, many collectives have established specific mechanisms for dealing with the emotional difficulties that these disruptions may cause. What is interesting here is that Weinberg infers that hierarchical structures are not susceptible to emotional difficulties simply because these relationships are not typically as open or visible.

The irony is that despite not being as visible, the emotional upheavals caused by turbulence in interpersonal relationships may be even more disruptive in the hierarchical structure where open channels of communication may not exist to deal with and dilute the resulting tensions.

Furthermore, where hierarchy exists, power and decision making typically resides with the

17 upper levels of the hierarchy. Disagreement with those in leadership positions is seldom voiced aloud resulting in frustrated workers in the levels below.

Weinberg’s third and fourth components of the structures analyzed in collectives in relation to a hierarchical group refer to status and communication. In a typical hierarchy, high status members are given greater freedoms and are frequently deferred to by those with lower status.

In addition, the majority of communication is stratified, from lower to higher. In contrast, collectives avoid this sort of stratification by “creating structures that allow for, and in fact demand, the expression of individual ability and training.” (p. 10) Again, this mirrors the reality of dramatic creation in a collective where status, gender and other outward differences are meaningless. Actors come together to create with one common goal. On stage, everyone is equal and communication is shared. In fact, Weinberg asserts that in a collective, the shared communication structure creates a new process in which each individual has a central role, thereby freeing them to achieve maximum flexibility and independence to generate new ideas and to create solutions. This concept of the ‘centre’ echoes Helgesen’s (1995) web of inclusion, and is to Weinberg, the core of the collective process. “It is a natural part of the ebb and flow of interaction: an interaction that is allowed because the barriers to it are removed by the openness and by the political consciousness of the collective organization.” (p. 12) This idea of a ‘centre’ in organizing with power shared among members sits in dramatic contrast to the hierarchical, top down method of organizing. What other models have emerged to challenge the mechanistic, hierarchical model of organizing?

Enter Multiframe Thinking

Serieyx (1993) qtd. in Bolman and Deal (2008) calls the change in the effectiveness of what had been accepted practices in top down management and organization over the past couple of decades, the ‘organizational big bang’. (p. 6) According to Bolman and Deal, the information revolution, globalization, collapse of ideologies, “…all these shocks have overturned the rules of the game and suddenly turned yesterday’s organizations into antiques.” (p. 14-15) In response to this view that organizing strategies have fallen short, Bolman and Deal have suggested a method of reframing the way we think about organizations and their hierarchical structures.

Their goal is to establish a sort of multi-frame thinking that allows managers to consider their organizations as organized in multiple ways rather than as the linear hierarchical or mechanistic structure that many have been built upon. Their four frame model (p. 18) outlines four main frames: structural, human resource, political and symbolic. (See Figure 2)

In reviewing these frames and the descriptors that accompany them, the language describing the symbolic frame appears to bear the most resemblance to what one would expect in arts organizations – a focus on culture, meaning and ritual while creating beauty and meaning. (p.

18) However, the frames most closely resembling the typical nature of organizing in the arts are the structural and political models where, out of the need to compete for scant resources, the need for advocacy and political savvy, rules, goals and policies govern and in some cases, drive the actions of arts managers to the detriment of the creative ‘symbolic’ side of the organization.

Aside from championing reframing, Bolman and Deal also emphasize artistry stating that an overemphasis on the rational and technical side of an organization often contributes to its decline. They believe that an artist interprets experience and that art fosters “emotion, subtlety and ambiguity. An artist represents the world to give us a deeper understanding of what is and what might be.” (p. x) Although this may be true, creativity in organizing, though valued, is often hard to find. Apparently even many artists fall into the trap of believing that organizing can really only be accomplished in one way: through the establishment of a hierarchy. In evidence is the number of arts and cultural organizations in Canada that still model this tendency.

Moving from hierarchical to horizontal

In his article “The New High-Performance, Horizontal Organization”, Howard M. Guttman

(2009) makes the case for decreased hierarchy through the use of a flattened organizational model characterized by fewer levels and decentralized decision making points. (p. 269) He ironically credits the need for change to a mind-set shift from a ‘production’ to a ‘performance’ culture.

According to Guttman, high performance teams in horizontal organizations are “pools of energy that subvert traditional ways of operating”. (p. 272) This subversion refers to the notable change to a collective responsibility, with decision making shared horizontally across the organization rather than vertically, in the old top-down model. Guttman aptly describes power in a hierarchy as “a mechanism for control and compliance, using a variety of carrot-and-stick

20 strategies.” (p. 275) In the emerging horizontal business model, leaders favour influence over control and commitment over compliance. This is a major shift in thinking from hierarchical management models where decision making was largely a top-down activity.

Perhaps the biggest change in the horizontal organizing model purported by Guttman is in the increased accountability afforded the players. “In hierarchical organizations, accountability is narrowly defined to include results achieved by individuals and those within their span of control.” (p. 277) Here, the emphasis is on the agency of the individual, aligning with Acker’s view of organizing versus organization. By placing the onus on each individual to be accountable, not simply for their own actions, but to be accountable for the success of the organization itself, Guttman believes that individuals will be more highly invested in their work and that this will result in what he terms, a high-performance team. (p. 277)

Guttman’s five-rung Accountability Ladder illustrates his point. At the first rung, individuals are accountable only for their own performance; at rung two, individuals are accountable for direct reports; rung three sees individuals accountable for peers; at rung four individuals are accountable for their leader’s success; and finally at rung five, individuals are accountable for the success of the organization. (p. 277) Guttman believes that in a hierarchy, individuals rarely reach higher than rung 2 whereas in a high performance team in the horizontal model, individuals reach for the top rung, feeling personal accountability for their actions. (p. 277)

What is curious about Guttman’s model is that it appears to replace hierarchical decision making with a sort of hierarchy of expectations surrounding accountability. Does this model

21 really eliminate hierarchy? He might have been better served in illustrating a horizontal process by developing his model on a continuum rather than utilizing a ladder which typically denotes a bottom and top rung, thereby emulating hierarchy.

Networks or latent organizations: another take on organizing differently

Yet another trend to emerge in response to criticisms leveled at hierarchical arts organizations in the past thirty years is the concept of the networked or ‘latent’ model. (Starkey et al, 2000)

Lauded as an appropriate response to global competition and increased pressures for market flexibility, latent organizations feature “groupings of individuals and teams of individuals that persist through time and are periodically drawn together for recurrent projects.” (p. 299) Used widely in the cultural industries, latent organizations appear to solve economic issues inherent in intermittent arts or cultural production where personnel are not needed consistently over time. Latent organizations bring together key actors in long-term, ongoing relationships that become active or ‘manifest’ as new projects begin. Using its applicability in the television industry, Starkey et al make the case for why latent organizations work: “…effective cultural industry production benefits from the long-term relationships that underpin the success of latent organizations in coping with a highly uncertain and risky environment”. (p. 299)

What Starkey does not address are the obstacles in bringing latent organizations together or its limited applicability and suitability for most arts groups. Seen as an alternative to hierarchy, latent organizations ostensibly bring together equal but disparate parties to engage in the

22 production and distribution of an artistic product. Symphony orchestras employ guest artists and conductors from all over the world, theatre companies hire special lighting designers or technicians as well as actors and directors from other cities and even other countries on occasion. But while this temporary organizing of individuals from a reliable network may serve to horizontally integrate production and distribution and alleviate financial pressures, it does little to reorient the industry away from a hierarchical management structure. In this model, although production responsibilities may be shared horizontally, there is still a modicum of control exerted by those making the decisions, pointing to the necessity for some kind of hierarchical structure. Who decides which pieces of a latent network to bring together and for which project? Who has control of the budget, timelines and outcome? Although some type of agreement must be struck in order for latent partners to participate, most of the control is still exerted through a top-down approach.

A further troubling factor in latent organizations is the potential impact on the very nature and quality of the work being produced. In the production of art, originality and freedom of thought is key, yet Starkey et al state that if a particular latent mix works well once, then why not use it again and again? For example, in the commission of a new show, they argue that there is far less risk in producing a new comedy “if it comes from the pen of the same writer, features the same cast, and is under the same direction as a previous smash hit.” (p. 302)

While the economic benefits may be wildly convincing, the artistic risks or drawbacks must surely outweigh them. How dull would our culture become if the production of art involved a sort of musical chairs with a very limited number of chairs and an even smaller number of

23 invited guests? Finding alternatives to hierarchical organizing in the arts can’t simply be about economics and power but must also keep sacred the role of the artist and the artistic vision. In latent organizations, those in charge of the organizing, calling upon the various actors to come together, limit the creative possibilities to such an extent as to render the actors without agency – they are simply told their parts. They are not asked to create them. This power is similar to that wielded by boards of directors in the current non-profit organizing model used most widely by arts and cultural organizations.

A stunning example of the type of power ascribed to boards and the executive directors or managers that take direction from them, comes from the musicians strikes that occurred in symphony orchestras across North America in the 1980s and 90s. Although not as overtly latent as some of the creative industries, symphony orchestras do exemplify these characteristics. Musicians are contracted for a certain number of rehearsals and performances while the music director (in conjunction with a general manager who checks the economic feasibility) decides upon the repertoire before presenting it to the board for approval. Only once all approvals are in place are the musicians informed as to the repertoire that they will be performing.

This lack of artistic power was explored by Mary Ann Glynn (2000) who investigated the 1996 musicians strike in Atlanta. Glynn asserts that organizational identities complicated the Atlanta

Symphony Orchestra’s (ASO) ability to resolve their labour dispute. In symphony orchestras, hierarchical organizing is deeply entrenched, with the hierarchy extending from the players or

24 orchestra members at the bottom of the hierarchy, to the administration/management staff in the middle, to the governing board of directors at the top charged with the public trust of ensuring that public funds are put to good use. So where is the power centre of the organization? It resides with the board, which has final authority on most major decisions.

Ironically, striking musicians are able to take back power, even temporarily by stopping production of the organization’s reason for being: music.

In 1996 prior to the strike, the ASO musicians, like most symphony musicians, were without influence or power in the organization. “Most cultural institutions have identities composed of contradictory elements because they contain actors (artisans and administrators) within the organization who come from different professions…” (Glynn, p. 285) Rejecting management’s first attempt at reaching an agreement, the musicians cleverly aligned themselves with the ticket-buying public, when ASO musician’s association president Doug Sommer released the statement “…we cannot accept management’s proposal because it does not satisfy our vision of the public’s vision for the future of the ASO.” (p. 290) This statement resulted in the acquisition of important cultural capital for the musicians, cultural capital most often reserved for the elite boards of directors in their governance role. The musicians insisted that the strike wasn’t about money while in the meantime, the board and administration continued to insist that the orchestra had to be run like a business and that “efficiency was the coin of the realm.” (p. 292)

In the end, the strike ended with musicians, staff and board uniting, claiming a new, integrated

‘hybrid’ identity despite the fact that this identity was still comprised of various interest groups

(board, staff and musicians) with differing attitudes and with differing levels of power and

25 influence. The façade of integration belies the truth of the deeply embedded hierarchy still present in most symphony orchestras across North America. The ASO example serves to remind us of the complexities of organizing in the arts where bottom line thinking frequently challenges the creation of the art and where top down management is still the norm.

An Organic Approach

Nancy Roche and Jaan Whitehead (2005) also explore the continued use of hierarchical models in arts settings. In their view, imposing this corporate structure on non-profit arts organizations may interfere with the organization’s mission, resulting in “struggles over power and intensifying conflicts between board and staff. A lack of congruence exists that…over time, can become increasingly stressful.” (p. 285) They suggest a more organic approach that inverts the way that we think about boards. Rather than imposing a board structure from outside the organization, they propose a governing structure that flows from the artistic product itself. This way, the governance is adjusted to meet the needs of the arts organization rather than the other way around. They make their case for this organic approach through the discussion of three aspects of governance in which problems often arise with traditional, hierarchical boards.

“The first is a theater’s relationship to its community; the second, its relationship to how it creates its art; and the third, its relationship to power.” (p. 285) The hierarchical structure of the typical arts organization shows a chair at the top of the chart, the rest of the board and committees shown in their relative power positions below the chair, with the staff right at the bottom. These ‘levels’ emulate Byrnes’ (2003) three management levels (p. 8) which also do not include or make mention of the artists. Ironically, as Roche and Whitehead suggest, these

26 power relationships contribute a great deal not only to the kind of relationship that the arts organization may forge with its community but also to how the art itself is created. Who has the power and who makes the decisions? The board, and perhaps the chief administrators/curators/artistic directors make them. With most of the artists completely absent from the organizing model there is not much chance that they will participate in this decision making.

Roche and Whitehead advocate for a board restructuring that better reflects the relationships with the community that the organization serves. They believe that while governance should be a central function of the board, other activities, like fundraising or education, could be placed in separate but connected auxiliary groups “that have clear connection to the board but not governing power”. (p. 286) This type of board restructuring would enable key activities, like fundraising, to be the primary function of a set group of well-connected, high profile people, recruited for this purpose. Without the work of governing also upon them, Roche and

Whitehead deduce that they could look after their primary function of fundraising without distraction. In this way representative community members, those recruited for their connection to the community itself, would also maintain their core purpose. This idea of several working boards reporting to a central governing board is illustrated through the use of one large circle representing the governing board surrounded by a series of other smaller circles that intersect with the governing circle. (p. 287)

In this model, the chairs’ of each council would also sit on the governing council, thereby maintaining communication with the core group. This sits in stark contrast with the more traditional model where committee members sit at the bottom of a rather daunting hierarchy.

However, even though this sense of broadening involvement is very appealing, there still needs to be a decision making mechanism in place and although this may eliminate several layers of hierarchy, it’s unlikely that hierarchy would completely disappear.

Next, Roche and Whitehead tackle the relationship of governance to the artistic process by discussing SITI Company of New York, an ensemble company that creates plays and tours them, unhampered by a building or established season. (p. 287) With their professional and personal lives deeply entwined with the theatre company, SITI most closely resembles the art collectives explored by Weinberg in that all actors are deeply committed to the company and have a strong vested interest in governing decisions because their livelihoods depend upon it. Roche and Whitehead describe this model as two intersecting ovals with one oval representing the ensemble company and the other, the board. The intersection of the two ovals represents those actors who also sit on the board, primarily the artistic and associate artistic directors and three or four company members. “At this point, of a board of eighteen members, six are company members, two are outside artists and ten are outside non-artists” ensuring significant input from the artists themselves. (p. 289) This is highly appealing, given that both artists and the community are represented. However the balance of power still resides with non-artists in this equation.

The third and last issue explored by Roche and Whitehead is the question of a theatre’s relationship to power, who sits on a board and why? And how do they use power? “Trustees, whoever they are, have to have the wisdom and experience to use power in balanced and constructive ways.” (p. 290) Without this wisdom and trust, staff could ‘take’ power away from the board by withholding information and the board might be tempted to ‘overuse’ power by making changes to policies or personnel that do not correspond with the theatre’s mandate or mission. As Roche and Whitehead have so aptly described, the intangibles inherent in good governance are just as important as the demonstration of wisdom and experience.

Concluding thoughts on hierarchy in arts organizing

Although on the surface antithetical, research supports the claim that arts and hierarchy appear closely intertwined, with few proven alternatives emerging to effectively challenge the current prevailing model. Early 20th century elite groups provided the underpinnings for these organizing strategies when wealthy patrons began to exert influence and power over not only the creation of the art but how the production of that creative process was organized. In more recent years, the corporate sector has somewhat replaced these elites emerging as ‘champion’ of the arts, aligning themselves with the sector and, through involvement on arts boards, further reinforcing the use and belief in the mechanistic, patriarchal and hierarchal organizing model. The influence of the elites and business in this model cannot be discounted nor overemphasized. Nor can the expectations of arts funders who insist on the use of the hierarchical ‘business’ model for arts organizations despite its relative inappropriateness in many cases. The influence of these organizing practices on the production of art requires

29 further research. Are artists hampered in their quest to create and produce meaningful art?

How many artist’s voices have been silenced, their art kept in relative seclusion and obscurity because it didn’t fulfill the ‘legitimation’ function of elite and corporate groups? Why aren’t collectives and some of the other alternative models explored here, more prevalent in the sector? Perhaps most troubling in this discussion of arts organizing are the questions that emerge from the discussion of power; who has it and who does not? In 2010, these questions still remain in the looming and ominous shadow of hierarchy.

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