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PARKINSON'S LAW
[AND OTHER STUDIES IN ADMINISTRATION]
BY
C. Northcote Parkinson
Raffles Professor of History
University of Malaya
ILLUSTRATED BY
Robert C. Osborn
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY, BOSTON
SEVENTEENTH PRINTING
(c) 1957 by C. Northcote Parkinson
The Riverside Press
Cambridge - Massachusetts
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 57-9981
Printed in the U.S.A.
for Ann
TO THE VERY YOUNG, to schoolteachers, as also to those who compile
textbooks about constitutional history, politics, and current affairs, the
world is a more or less rational place. They visualize the election of
representatives, freely chosen from among those the people trust. They
picture the process by which the wisest and best of these become ministers
of state. They imagine how captains of industry, freely elected by
shareholders, choose for managerial responsibility those who have proved
their ability in a humbler role. Books exist in which assumptions such as
these are boldly stated or tacitly implied. To those, on the other hand,
with any experience of affairs, these assumptions are merely ludicrous.
Solemn conclaves of the wise and good are mere figments of the teacher's
mind. It is salutary, therefore, if an occasional warning is uttered on this
subject. Heaven forbid that students should cease to read books on the
science of public or business administration-- provided only that these
works are classified as fiction. Placed between the novels of Rider Haggard
and H. G. Wells, intermingled with volumes about ape men and space ships,
these textbooks could harm no one. Placed elsewhere, vii among works of
reference, they can do more damage than might at first sight seem possible.
Dismayed to realize what other people suppose to be the truth about
civil servants or building plans, I have occasionally tried to provide, for
those interested, a glimpse of reality. The reader of discrimination will
guess that these glimpses of the truth are based on no ordinary experience.
In the expectation, moreover, that some readers will have less
discrimination than others, I have been careful to hint, occasionally,
casually, at the vast amount of research upon which my theories are founded.
Let the reader picture to himself the wall charts, card index cabinets,
calculating machines, slide rules, and reference works that may be thought
the indispensable background to a study such as this. Let him then be
assured that the reality dwarfs all his imagining, and that the truths here
revealed are the work not merely of an admittedly gifted individual but of a
vast and costly research establishment. An occasional reader may feel that
more detailed description should have been given of the experiments and
calculations upon which these theories rest. Let him reflect, however, that
a volume so elaborate would take longer to read and cost more to buy.
While it is undeniable that each one of these essays embodies the
results from years of patient investigation, it must not be supposed that
all has yet been told. The recent discovery in a certain field of warfare
that the number of the enemy killed varies inversely with the number of
generals on one's own side has opened a whole new field of research. A new
significance has been quite recently attributed to the illegibility of
signatures, the attempt being made to fix the point in a successful
executive career at viii which the handwriting becomes meaningless even to
the executive himself. New developments occur almost daily, making it
virtually certain that later editions of this work will quickly supersede
the first.
I wish to thank the editors who have given permission to reprint
certain of these essays. Pride of place must go to the editor of The
Economist, the journal in which Parkinson's law was first revealed to
mankind. To the same editor I am indebted for permission to reprint the
essay on "Directors and Councils," as also that on "Pension Point." Certain
of the other articles have also appeared previously in Harper's Magazine and
The Reporter.
To the artist, Robert C. Osborn, I am deeply grateful for adding a
touch of frivolity to a work that might otherwise have seemed too technical
for the general reader. To the publishers I am indebted for their
encouragement, without which I should have attempted little and achieved
still less. Last of all, I place on record the gratitude I feel toward the
higher mathematician with whose science the reader is occasionally blinded
and to whom (but for other reasons) this book is dedicated.
C. NORTHCOTE PARKINSON
Singapore
1957
CONTENTS
xi
1. PARKINSON'S LAW, OR THE RISING PYRAMID
WORK EXPANDS so as to fill the time available for its completion.
General recognition of this fact is shown in the proverbial phrase "It is
the busiest man who has time to spare." Thus, an elderly lady of leisure can
spend the entire day in writing and dispatching a postcard to her niece at
Bognor Regis. An hour will be spent in finding the postcard, another in
hunting for spectacles, half an hour in a search for the address, an hour
and a quarter in composition, and twenty minutes in deciding whether or not
to take an umbrella when going to the mailbox in the next street. The total
effort that would occupy a busy man for three minutes all told may in this
fashion leave another person prostrate after a day of doubt, anxiety, and
toil.
Granted that work (and especially paperwork) is thus elastic in its
demands on time, it is manifest that there need be little or no relationship
between the work to be done and the size of the staff to which it may be
assigned. A lack of real activity does not, of necessity, result in leisure.
A lack of occupation is not necessarily revealed by a manifest idleness. The
thing to be done swells in importance and complexity in a direct ratio with
the time to be spent. This fact 2 is widely recognized, but less attention
has been paid to its wider implications, more especially in the field of
public administration. Politicians and taxpayers have assumed (with
occasional phases of doubt) that a rising total in the number of civil
servants must reflect a growing volume of work to be done. Cynics, in
questioning this belief, have 3 imagined that the multiplication of
officials must have left some of them idle or all of them able to work for
shorter hours. But this is a matter in which faith and doubt seem equally
misplaced. The fact is that the number of the officials and the quantity of
the work are not related to each other at all. The rise in the total of
those employed is governed by Parkinson's Law and would be much the same
whether the volume of the work were to increase, diminish, or even
disappear. The importance of Parkinson's Law lies in the fact that it is a
law of growth based upon an analysis of the factors by which that growth is
controlled.
The validity of this recently discovered law must rest mainly on
statistical proofs, which will follow. Of more interest to the general
reader is the explanation of the factors underlying the general tendency to
which this law gives definition. Omitting technicalities (which are
numerous) we may distinguish at the outset two motive forces. They can be
represented for the present purpose by two almost axiomatic statements,
thus: (1) "An official wants to multiply subordinates, not rivals" and (2)
"Officials make work for each other."
To comprehend Factor 1, we must picture a civil servant, called A, who
finds himself overworked. Whether this overwork is real or imaginary is
immaterial, but we should observe, in passing, that A's sensation (or
illusion) might easily result from his own decreasing energy: a normal
symptom of middle age. For this real or imagined overwork there are, broadly
speaking, three possible remedies. He may resign; he may ask to halve the
work with a colleague called B; he may demand the assistance of two
subordinates, to be called C and D. There is probably no instance 4 in
history, however, of A choosing any but the third alternative. By
resignation he would lose his pension rights. By having B appointed, on his
own level in the hierarchy, he would merely bring in a rival for promotion
to W's vacancy when W (at long last) retires. So A would rather have C and
D, junior men, below him. They will add to his consequence and, by dividing
the work into two categories, as between C and D, he will have the merit of
being the only man who comprehends them both. It is essential to realize at
this point that C and D are, as it were, inseparable. To appoint C alone
would have been impossible. Why? Because C, if by himself, would divide the
work with A and so assume almost the equal status that has been refused in
the first instance to B; a status the more emphasized if C is A's only
possible successor. Subordinates must thus number two or more, each being
thus kept in order by fear of the other's promotion. When C complains in
turn of being overworked (as he certainly will) A will, with the concurrence
of C, advise the appointment of two assistants to help C. But he can then
avert internal friction only by advising the appointment of two more
assistants to help D, whose position is much the same. With this recruitment
of E, F, G, and H the promotion of A is now practically certain.
Seven officials are now doing what one did before. This is where Factor
2 comes into operation. For these seven make so much work for each other
that all are fully occupied and A is actually working harder than ever. An
incoming document may well come before each of them in turn. Official E
decides that it falls within the province of F, who places a draft reply
before C, who amends it drastically before consulting D, who asks G to deal
with it. But G goes 5 on leave at this point, handing the file over to H,
who drafts a minute that is signed by D and returned to C, who revises his
draft accordingly and lays the new version before A.
What does A do? He would have every excuse for signing the thing
unread, for he has many other matters on his mind. Knowing now that he is to
succeed W next year, he has to decide whether C or D should succeed to his
own office. He had to agree to G's going on leave even if not yet strictly
entitled to it. He is worried whether H should not have gone instead, for
reasons of health. He has looked pale recently-- partly but not solely
because of his domestic troubles. Then there is the business of F's special
increment of salary for the period of the conference and E's application for
transfer to the Ministry of Pensions. A has heard that D is in love with a
married typist and that G and F are no longer on speaking terms-- no one
seems to know why. So A might be tempted to sign C's draft and have done
with it. But A is a conscientious man. Beset as he is with problems created
by his colleagues for themselves and for him-- created by the mere fact of
these officials' existence-- he is not the man to shirk his duty. He reads
through the draft with care, deletes the fussy paragraphs added by C and H,
and restores the thing back to the form preferred in the first instance by
the able (if quarrelsome) F. He corrects the English-- none of these young
men can write grammatically-- and finally produces the same reply he would
have written if officials C to H had never been born. Far more people have
taken far longer to produce the same result. No one has been idle. All have
done their best. And it is late in the evening before A finally quits his
office and begins the return journey to Ealing. The last of 6 the office
lights are being turned off in the gathering dusk that marks the end of
another day's administrative toil. Among the last to leave, A reflects with
bowed shoulders and a wry smile that late hours, like gray hairs, are among
the penalties of success.
From this description of the factors at work the student of political
science will recognize that administrators are more or less bound to
multiply. Nothing has yet been said, however, about the period of time
likely to elapse between the date of A's appointment and the date from which
we can calculate the pensionable service of H. Vast masses of statistical
evidence have been collected and it is from a study of this data that
Parkinson's Law has been deduced. Space will not allow of detailed analysis
but the reader will be interested to know that research began in the British
Navy Estimates. These were chosen because the Admiralty's responsibilities
are more easily measurable than those of, say, the Board of Trade. The
question is merely one of numbers and tonnage. Here are some typical
figures. The Strength of the Navy in 1914 could be shown as 146,000 officers
and men, 3249 dockyard officials and clerks, and 57,000 dockyard workmen. By
1928 there were only 100,000 officers and men and only 62,439 workmen, but
the dockyard officials and clerks by then numbered 4558. As for warships,
the strength in 1928 was a mere fraction of what it had been in 1914-- fewer
than 20 capital ships in commission as compared with 62. Over the same
period the Admiralty officials had increased in number from 2000 to 3569,
providing (as was remarked) "a magnificent navy on land." These figures are
more clearly set forth in tabular form. 7
ADMIRALTY STATISTICS
The criticism voiced at the time centered on the ratio between the
numbers of those available for fighting and those available only for
administration. But that comparison is not to the present purpose. What we
have to note is that the 2000 officials of 1914 had become the 3569 of 1928;
and that this growth was unrelated to any possible increase in their work.
The Navy during that period had diminished, in point of fact, by a third in
men and two-thirds in ships. Nor, from 1922 onward, was its strength even
expected to increase; for its total of ships (unlike its total of officials)
was limited by the Washington Naval Agreement of that year. Here we have
then a 78 per cent increase over a period of fourteen years; an average of
5.6 per cent increase a year on the earlier total. In fact, as we shall see,
the rate of increase was not as regular as that. All we have to consider, at
this stage, is the percentage rise over a given period.
Can this rise in the total number of civil servants be accounted for
except on the assumption that such a total must always rise by a law
governing its growth? It might be urged at this point that the period under
discussion 8 9 was one of rapid development in naval technique. The use of
the flying machine was no longer confined to the eccentric. Electrical
devices were being multiplied and elaborated. Submarines were tolerated if
not approved. Engineer officers were beginning to be regarded as almost
human. In so revolutionary an age we might expect that storekeepers would
have more elaborate inventories to compile. We might not wonder to see more
draughtsmen on the payroll, more designers, more technicians and scientists.
But these, the dockyard officials, increased only by 40 per cent in number
when the men of Whitehall increased their total by nearly 80 per cent. For
every new foreman or electrical engineer at Portsmouth there had to be two
more clerks at Charing Cross. From this we might be tempted to conclude,
provisionally, that the rate of increase in administrative staff is likely
to be double that of the technical staff at a time when the actually useful
strength (in this case, of seamen) is being reduced by 31.5 per cent. It has
been proved statistically, however, that this last percentage is irrelevant.
The officials would have multiplied at the same rate had there been no
actual seamen at all.
It would be interesting to follow the further progress by which the
8118 Admiralty staff of 1935 came to number 33,788 by 1954. But the staff of
the Colonial Office affords a better field of study during a period of
imperial decline. Admiralty statistics are complicated by factors (like the
Fleet Air Arm) that make comparison difficult as between one year and the
next. The Colonial Office growth is more significant in that it is more
purely administrative. Here the relevant statistics are as follows: 10
Before showing what the rate of increase is, we must observe that the
extent of this department's responsibilities was far from constant during
these twenty years. The colonial territories were not much altered in area
or population between 1935 and 1939. They were considerably diminished by
1943, certain areas being in enemy hands. They were increased again in 1947,
but have since then shrunk steadily from year to year as successive colonies
achieve self-government. It would be rational to suppose that these changes
in the scope of Empire would be reflected in the size of its central
administration. But a glance at the figures is enough to convince us that
the staff totals represent nothing but so many stages in an inevitable
increase. And this increase, although related to that observed in other
departments, has nothing to do with the size-- or even the existence-- of
the Empire. What are the percentages of increase? We must ignore, for this
purpose, the rapid increase in staff which accompanied the diminution of
responsibility during World War II. We should note rather, the peacetime
rates of increase: over 5.24 per cent between 1935 and 1939, and 6.55 per
cent between 1947 and 1954. This gives an average increase of 5.89 per cent
each year, a percentage markedly similar to that already found in the
Admiralty staff increase between 1914 and 1928.
Further and detailed statistical analysis of departmental staffs would
be inappropriate in such a work as this. It 11 is hoped, however, to reach a
tentative conclusion regarding the time likely to elapse between a given
official's first appointment and the later appointment of his two or more
assistants.
Dealing with the problem of pure staff accumulation, all our researches
so far completed point to an average increase of 5.75 per cent per year.
This fact established, it now becomes possible to state Parkinson's Law in
mathematical form: In any public administrative department not actually at
war, the staff increase may be expected to follow this formula--
x=(2km+l)/n
k is the number of staff seeking promotion through the appointment of
subordinates; l represents the difference between the ages of appointment
and retirement; m is the number of man-hours devoted to answering minutes
within the department; and n is the number of effective units being
administered. x will be the number of new staff required each year.
Mathematicians will realize, of course, that to find the percentage increase
they must multiply x by 100 and divide by the total of the previous year,
thus:
100 (2km+l)/y n %
where y represents the total original staff. This figure will invariably
prove to be between 5.17 per cent and 6.56 per cent, irrespective of any
variation in the amount of work (if any) to be done. 12
The discovery of this formula and of the general principles upon which
it is based has, of course, no political value. No attempt has been made to
inquire whether departments ought to grow in size. Those who hold that this
growth is essential to gain full employment are fully entitled to their
opinion. Those who doubt the stability of an economy based upon reading each
other's minutes are equally entitled to theirs. It would probably be
premature to attempt at this stage any inquiry into the quantitative ratio
that should exist between the administrators and the administered. Granted,
however, that a maximum ratio exists, it should soon be possible to
ascertain by formula how many years will elapse before that ratio, in any
given community, will be reached. The forecasting of such a result will
again have no political value. Nor can it be sufficiently emphasized that
Parkinson's Law is a purely scientific discovery, inapplicable except in
theory to the politics of the day. It is not the business of the botanist to
eradicate the weeds. Enough for him if he can tell us just how fast they
grow. 13
WE ARE ALL familiar with the basic difference between English and
French parliamentary institutions; copied respectively by such other
assemblies as derive from each. We all realize that this main difference has
nothing to do with national temperament, but stems from their seating plans.
The British, being brought up on team games, enter their House of Commons in
the spirit of those who would rather be doing something else. If they cannot
be playing golf or tennis, they can at least pretend that politics is a game
with very similar rules. But for this device, Parliament would arouse even
less interest than it does. So the British instinct is to form two opposing
teams, with referee and linesmen, and let them debate until they exhaust
themselves. The House of Commons is so arranged that the individual Member
is practically compelled to take one side or the other before he knows what
the arguments are, or even (in some cases) before he knows the subject of
the dispute. His training from birth has been to play for his side, and this
saves him from any undue mental effort. Sliding into a seat toward the end
of a speech, he knows exactly how to take up the argument from the point it
has 14 reached. If the speaker is on his own side of the House, he will say
"Hear, hear!" If he is on the opposite side, he can safely say "Shame!" or
merely "Oh!" At some later stage he may have time to ask his neighbor what
the debate is supposed to be about. Strictly speaking, however, there is no
need for him to do this. He knows enough in any case not to kick into his
own goal. The men who sit opposite are entirely wrong and all their
arguments are so much drivel. The men on his own side are statesmanlike, by
contrast, and their speeches a singular blend of wisdom, eloquence, and
moderation. Nor does it make the slightest difference whether he learned his
politics at Harrow or in following the fortunes of Aston Villa. In either
school he will have learned when to cheer and when to groan. But the British
system depends entirely on its seating plan. If the benches did not face
each other, no one could tell truth from falsehood-- wisdom from folly--
unless indeed 15 by listening to it all. But to listen to it all would be
ridiculous, for half the speeches must of necessity be nonsense.
In France the initial mistake was made of seating the representatives
in a semicircle, all facing the chair. The resulting confusion could be
imagined if it were not notorious. No real opposing teams could be formed
and no one could tell (without listening) which argument was the more
cogent. There was the further handicap of all the proceedings being in
French-- an example the United States wisely refused to follow. But the
French system is bad enough even when the linguistic difficulty does not
arise. Instead of having two sides, one in the right and the other in the
wrong-- so that the issue is clear from the outset-- the French form a
multitude of teams facing in all directions. With the field in such
confusion, the game cannot even begin. Basically their representatives are
of the Right or of the Left, according to where they sit. This is a
perfectly sound scheme. The French have not gone to the extreme of seating
people in alphabetical order. But the semicircular chamber allows of subtle
distinctions between the various degrees of tightness and leftness. There is
none of the clear-cut British distinction between rightness and wrongness.
One deputy is described, politically, as to the left of Monsieur Untel but
well to the right of Monsieur Quelquechose. What is anyone to make of that?
What should we make of it even in English? What do they make of it
themselves? The answer is, "Nothing."
All this is generally known. What is less generally recognized is that
the paramount importance of the seating 16 plan applies to other assemblies
and meetings, international, national, and local. It applies, moreover, to
meetings round a table such as occur at a Round Table Conference. A moment's
thought will convince us that a Square Table Conference would be something
totally different and a Long Table Conference would be different again.
These differences do not merely affect the length and acrimony of the
discussion; they also affect what (if anything) is decided. Rarely, as we
know, will the voting relate to the merits of the case. The final decision
is influenced by a variety of factors, few of which need concern us at the
moment. We should note, however, that the issue is actually decided, in the
end, by the votes of the center bloc. This would not be true in the House of
Commons, where no such bloc is allowed to develop. But at other conferences
the center bloc is all important. This bloc essentially comprises the
following elements:
a. Those who have failed to master any one of the memoranda written in
advance and showered weeks beforehand on all those who are expected to be
present.
b. Those who are too stupid to follow the proceedings at all. These are
readily distinguishable by their tendency to mutter to each other: "What is
the fellow talking about?"
c. Those who are deaf. They sit with their hands cupping their ears,
growling "I wish people would speak up."
d. Those who were dead drunk in the small hours and have turned up
(heaven knows why) with a splitting headache and a conviction that nothing
matters either way.
e. The senile, whose chief pride is in being as fit as ever-- fitter
indeed than a lot of these younger men. "I 17 walked here," they whisper.
"Pretty good for a man of eighty-two, what?"
f. The feeble, who have weakly promised to support both sides and don't
know what to do about it. They are of two minds as to whether they should
abstain from voting or pretend to be sick.
Toward capturing the votes of the center bloc the first step is to
identify and count the members. That done, everything else depends on where
they are to sit. The best technique is to detail off known and stalwart
supporters to enter into conversation with named middle-bloc types before
the meeting actually begins. In this preliminary chat the stalwarts will
carefully avoid mentioning the main subject of debate. They will be trained
to use the opening gambits listed below, corresponding to the categories a
to f, into which the middle bloc naturally falls:
a. "Waste of time, I call it, producing all these documents. I have
thrown most of mine away."
b. "I expect we shall be dazzled by eloquence before long. I often wish
people would talk less and come to the point. They are too clever by half,
if you ask me."
c. "The acoustics of this hall are simply terrible. You would have
thought these scientific chaps could do something about it. For half the
time I CAN'T HEAR WHAT IS BEING SAID. CAN YOU?"
d. "What a rotten place to meet! I think there is something the matter
with the ventilation. It makes me feel almost unwell. What about you?"
e. "My goodness, I don't know how you do it! Tell me the secret. Is it
what you have for breakfast?"
f. "There's so much to be said on both sides of the 18 question that I
really don't know which side to support. What do you feel about it?"
If these gambits are correctly played, each stalwart will start a
lively conversation, in the midst of which he will steer his middle-blocsman
toward the forum. As he does this, another stalwart will place himself just
ahead of the pair and moving in the same direction. The drill is best
illustrated by a concrete example. We will suppose that stalwart X (Mr.
Sturdy) is steering middle-blocsman Y (Mr. Waverley, type f) toward a seat
near the front. Ahead goes stalwart Z (Mr. Staunch), who presently takes a
seat without appearing to notice the two men following him. Staunch turns in
the opposite direction and waves to someone in the distance. Then he leans
over to make a few remarks to the man in front of him. Only when Waverley
has sat down will Staunch presently turn toward him and say, "My dear
fellow-- how nice to see you!" Only some minutes later again will he catch
sight of Sturdy and start visibly with surprise. "Hallo, Sturdy-- I didn't
think you would be here!" "I've recovered now," replies Sturdy. "It was only
a chill." The seating order is thus made to appear completely accidental,
casual, and friendly. That completes Phase I of the operation, and it would
be much the same whatever the exact category in which the middle-blocsman is
believed to fall.
Phase II has to be adjusted according to the character of the man to be
influenced. In the case of Waverley (Type f) the object in Phase II is to
avoid any discussion of the matter at issue but to produce the impression
that the thing is already decided. Seated near the front, Waverley will be
unable to see much of the other members and 19 can be given the impression
that they practically all think alike.
"Really," says Sturdy, "I don't know why I bothered to come. I gather
that Item Four is pretty well agreed. All the fellows I meet seem to have
made up their minds to vote for it." (Or against it, as the case may be.)
"Curious," says Staunch. "I was just going to say the same thing. The
issue hardly seems to be in doubt."
"I had not really made up my own mind," says Sturdy. 20 "There was much
to be said on either side. But opposition would really be a waste of time.
What do you think, Waverley?"
"Well," says Waverley, "I must admit that I find the question rather
baffling. On the one hand, there is good reason to agree to the motion ...
As against that... Do you think it will pass?"
"My dear Waverley, I would trust your judgment in this. You were saying
just now that it is already agreed." 21
"Oh, was I? Well, there does seem to be a majority. ... Or perhaps I
should say ..."
"Thank you, Waverley," says Staunch, "for your opinion. I think just
the same but am particularly interested to find you agree with me. There is
no one whose opinion I value more."
Sturdy, meanwhile, is leaning over to talk to someone in the row
behind. What he actually says, in a low voice, is this, "How is your wife
now? Is she out of hospital?" When he turns back again, however, it is to
announce that the people behind all think the same. The motion is as good as
passed. And so it is if the drill goes according to plan.
While the other side has been busy preparing speeches and phrasing
amendments, the side with the superior technique will have concentrated on
pinning each middle-blocsman between two reliable supporters. When the
crucial moment comes, the raising of a hand on either side will practically
compel the waverer to follow suit. Should he be actually asleep, as often
happens with middle-blocsman in categories d and e, his hand will be raised
for him by the member on his right. This rule is merely to obviate both his
hands being raised, a gesture that has been known to attract unfavorable
comment. With the middle bloc thus secured, the motion will be carried with
a comfortable margin; or else rejected, if that is thought preferable. In
nearly every matter of controversy to be decided by the will of the people,
we can assume that the people who will decide are members of the middle
bloc. Delivery of speeches is therefore a waste of time. The one party will
never agree and the other party has agreed 22 already. Remains the middle
bloc, the members of which divide into those who cannot hear what is being
said and those who would not understand it even if they did. To secure their
votes what is needed is primarily the example of others voting on either
side of them. Their votes can thus be swayed by accident. How much better,
by contrast, to sway them by design! 23
PEOPLE WHO understand high finance are of two kinds: those who have
vast fortunes of their own and those who have nothing at all. To the actual
millionaire a million dollars is something real and comprehensible. To the
applied mathematician and the lecturer in economics (assuming both to be
practically starving) a million dollars is at least as real as a thousand,
they having never possessed either sum. But the world is full of people who
fall between these two categories, knowing nothing of millions but well
accustomed to think in thousands, and it is of these that finance committees
are mostly comprised. The result is a phenomenon that has often been
observed but never yet investigated. It might be termed the Law of
Triviality. Briefly stated, it means that the time spent on any item of the
agenda will be in inverse proportion to the sum involved.
On second thoughts, the statement that this law has never been
investigated is not entirely accurate. Some work has actually been done in
this field, but the investigators pursued a line of inquiry that led them
nowhere. They assumed that the greatest significance should attach to the
order in which items of the agenda are taken. They assumed, 24 further, that
most of the available time will be spent on items one to seven and that the
later items will be allowed automatically to pass. The result is well known.
The derision with which Dr. Guggenheim's lecture was received at the
Muttworth Conference may have been thought excessive at the time, but all
further discussions on this topic have tended to show that his critics were
right. Years had been wasted in a research of which the basic assumptions
were wrong. We realize now that position on the agenda is a minor
consideration, so far, at least, as this problem is concerned. We consider
also that Dr. Guggenheim was lucky to escape as he did, in his underwear.
Had he dared to put his lame conclusions before the later conference in
September, he would have faced something more than derision. The view would
have been taken that he was deliberately wasting time.
If we are to make further progress in this investigation we must ignore
all that has so far been done. We must start at the beginning and understand
fully the way in which a finance committee actually works. For the sake of
the general reader this can be put in dramatic form thus:
Chairman We come now to Item Nine. Our Treasurer, Mr. McPhail, will report.
Mr. McPhail The estimate for the Atomic Reactor is before you, sir, set
forth in Appendix H of the subcommittee's report. You will see that the
general design and layout has been approved by Professor McFission. The
total cost will amount to $10,000,000. The contractors, Messrs. McNab and
McHash, consider that the work should be complete 25 by April, 1959. Mr.
McFee, the consulting engineer, warns us that we should not count on
completion before October, at the earliest. In this view he is supported by
Dr. McHeap, the well-known geophysicist, who refers to the probable need for
piling at the lower end of the site. The plan of the main building is before
you-- see Appendix IX-- and the blueprint is laid on the table. I shall be
glad to give any further information that members of this committee may
require.
Chairman Thank you, Mr. McPhail, for your very lucid explanation of the plan
as proposed. I will now invite the members present to give us their views.
It is necessary to pause at this point and consider what views the
members are likely to have. Let us suppose that they number eleven,
including the Chairman but excluding the Secretary. Of these eleven members,
four-- including the chairman-- do not know what a reactor is. Of the
remainder, three do not know what it is for. Of those who know its purpose,
only two have the least idea of what it should cost. One of these is Mr.
Isaacson, the other is Mr. Brickworth. Either is in a position to say
something. We may suppose that Mr. Isaacson is the first to speak.
Mr. Isaacson Well, Mr. Chairman. I could wish that I felt more confidence in
our contractors and consultant. Had we gone to Professor Levi in the first
instance, and had the contract been given to Messrs. David and Goliath, I
should have been happier about the whole scheme. Mr. Lyon-Daniels would not
have wasted our time with wild guesses about the possible delay in
completion, and Dr. 26 Moses Bullrush would have told us definitely whether
piling would be wanted or not.
Chairman I am sure we all appreciate Mr. Isaacson's anxiety to complete this
work in the best possible way. I feel, however, that it is rather late in
the day to call in new technical advisers. I admit that the main contract
has still to be signed, but we have already spent very large sums. If we
reject the advice for which we have paid, we shall have to pay as much
again.
(Other members murmur agreement.)
Mr. Isaacson I should like my observation to be minuted.
Chairman Certainly. Perhaps Mr. Brickworth also has something to say on this
matter?
Now Mr. Brickworth is almost the only man there who knows what he is
talking about. There is a great deal he could say. He distrusts that round
figure of $10,000,000. Why should it come out to exactly that? Why need they
demolish the old building to make room for the new approach? Why is so large
a sum set aside for "contingencies"? And who is McHeap, anyway? Is he the
man who was sued last year by the Trickle and Driedup Oil Corporation? But
Brickworth does not know where to begin. The other members could not read
the blueprint if he referred to it. He would have to begin by explaining
what a reactor is and no one there would admit that he did not already know.
Better to say nothing. 27
Mr. Brickworth I have no comment to make.
Chairman Does any other member wish to speak? Very well. I may take it then
that the plans and estimates are approved? Thank you. May I now sign the
main contract on your behalf? (Murmur of agreement) Thank you. We can now
move on to Item Ten.
Allowing a few seconds for rustling papers and unrolling diagrams, the
time spent on Item Nine will have been just two minutes and a half. The
meeting is going well. But 28 some members feel uneasy about Item Nine. They
wonder inwardly whether they have really been pulling their weight. It is
too late to query that reactor scheme, but they would like to demonstrate,
before the meeting ends, that they are alive to all that is going on.
Chairman Item Ten. Bicycle shed for the use of the clerical staff. An
estimate has been received from Messrs. Bodger and Woodworm, who undertake
to complete the work for the sum of $2350. Plans and specification are
before you, gentlemen.
Mr. Softleigh Surely, Mr. Chairman, this sum is excessive. I note that the
roof is to be of aluminum. Would not asbestos be cheaper?
Mr. Holdfast I agree with Mr. Softleigh about the cost, but the roof should,
in my opinion, be of galvanized iron. I incline to think that the shed could
be built for $2000, or even less.
Mr. Daring I would go further, Mr. Chairman. I question whether this shed is
really necessary. We do too much for our staff as it is. They are never
satisfied, that is the trouble. They will be wanting garages next.
Mr. Holdfast No, I can't support Mr. Daring on this occasion. I think that
the shed is needed. It is a question of material and cost...
The debate is fairly launched. A sum of $2350 is well within
everybody's comprehension. Everyone can visualize a bicycle shed. Discussion
goes on, therefore, for forty-five 29 minutes, with the possible result of
saving some $300. Members at length sit back with a feeling of achievement.
Chairman Item Eleven. Refreshments supplied at meetings of the Joint Welfare
Committee. Monthly, $4.75.
Mr. Softleigh What type of refreshment is supplied on these occasions?
Chairman Coffee, I understand.
Mr. Holdfast And this means an annual charge of-- let me see-- $57?
Chairman That is so.
Mr. Daring Well, really, Mr. Chairman. I question whether this is justified.
How long do these meetings last?
Now begins an even more acrimonious debate. There may be members of the
committee who might fail to distinguish between asbestos and galvanized
iron, but every man there knows about coffee-- what it is, how it should be
made, where it should be bought-- and whether indeed it should be bought at
all. This item on the agenda will occupy the members for an hour and a
quarter, and they will end by asking the Secretary to procure further
information, leaving the matter to be decided at the next meeting.
It would be natural to ask at this point whether a still smaller sum--
$20, perhaps, or $10-- would occupy the Finance Committee for a
proportionately longer time. On this point, it must be admitted, we are
still ignorant. Our tentative conclusion must be that there is a point at
which the whole tendency is reversed, the committee members 30 concluding
that the sum is beneath their notice. Research has still to establish the
point at which this reversal occurs. The transition from the $50 debate (an
hour and a quarter) to the $20 debate (two and a half minutes) is indeed an
abrupt one. It would be the more interesting to establish the exact point at
which it occurs. More than that, it would be of practical value. Supposing,
for example, that the point of vanishing interest is represented by the sum
of $35, the Treasurer with an item of $62.80 on the agenda might well decide
to present it as two items, one of $30.00 and the other of $32.80, with an
evident saving in time and effort.
31 Conclusions at this juncture can be merely tentative, but there is
some reason to suppose that the point of vanishing interest represents the
sum the individual committee member is willing to lose on a bet or subscribe
to a charity. An inquiry on these lines conducted on racecourses and in
Methodist chapels, might go far toward solving the problem. Far greater
difficulty may be encountered in attempting to discover the exact point at
which the sum involved becomes too large to discuss at all. One thing
apparent, however, is that the time spent on $10,000,000 and on $10 may well
prove to be the same. The present estimated time of two and a half minutes
is by no means exact, but there is clearly a space of time-- something
between two and four and a half minutes-- which suffices equally for the
[AND OTHER STUDIES IN ADMINISTRATION]
BY
C. Northcote Parkinson
Raffles Professor of History
University of Malaya
ILLUSTRATED BY
Robert C. Osborn
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY, BOSTON
SEVENTEENTH PRINTING
(c) 1957 by C. Northcote Parkinson
The Riverside Press
Cambridge - Massachusetts
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 57-9981
Printed in the U.S.A.
for Ann
TO THE VERY YOUNG, to schoolteachers, as also to those who compile
textbooks about constitutional history, politics, and current affairs, the
world is a more or less rational place. They visualize the election of
representatives, freely chosen from among those the people trust. They
picture the process by which the wisest and best of these become ministers
of state. They imagine how captains of industry, freely elected by
shareholders, choose for managerial responsibility those who have proved
their ability in a humbler role. Books exist in which assumptions such as
these are boldly stated or tacitly implied. To those, on the other hand,
with any experience of affairs, these assumptions are merely ludicrous.
Solemn conclaves of the wise and good are mere figments of the teacher's
mind. It is salutary, therefore, if an occasional warning is uttered on this
subject. Heaven forbid that students should cease to read books on the
science of public or business administration-- provided only that these
works are classified as fiction. Placed between the novels of Rider Haggard
and H. G. Wells, intermingled with volumes about ape men and space ships,
these textbooks could harm no one. Placed elsewhere, vii among works of
reference, they can do more damage than might at first sight seem possible.
Dismayed to realize what other people suppose to be the truth about
civil servants or building plans, I have occasionally tried to provide, for
those interested, a glimpse of reality. The reader of discrimination will
guess that these glimpses of the truth are based on no ordinary experience.
In the expectation, moreover, that some readers will have less
discrimination than others, I have been careful to hint, occasionally,
casually, at the vast amount of research upon which my theories are founded.
Let the reader picture to himself the wall charts, card index cabinets,
calculating machines, slide rules, and reference works that may be thought
the indispensable background to a study such as this. Let him then be
assured that the reality dwarfs all his imagining, and that the truths here
revealed are the work not merely of an admittedly gifted individual but of a
vast and costly research establishment. An occasional reader may feel that
more detailed description should have been given of the experiments and
calculations upon which these theories rest. Let him reflect, however, that
a volume so elaborate would take longer to read and cost more to buy.
While it is undeniable that each one of these essays embodies the
results from years of patient investigation, it must not be supposed that
all has yet been told. The recent discovery in a certain field of warfare
that the number of the enemy killed varies inversely with the number of
generals on one's own side has opened a whole new field of research. A new
significance has been quite recently attributed to the illegibility of
signatures, the attempt being made to fix the point in a successful
executive career at viii which the handwriting becomes meaningless even to
the executive himself. New developments occur almost daily, making it
virtually certain that later editions of this work will quickly supersede
the first.
I wish to thank the editors who have given permission to reprint
certain of these essays. Pride of place must go to the editor of The
Economist, the journal in which Parkinson's law was first revealed to
mankind. To the same editor I am indebted for permission to reprint the
essay on "Directors and Councils," as also that on "Pension Point." Certain
of the other articles have also appeared previously in Harper's Magazine and
The Reporter.
To the artist, Robert C. Osborn, I am deeply grateful for adding a
touch of frivolity to a work that might otherwise have seemed too technical
for the general reader. To the publishers I am indebted for their
encouragement, without which I should have attempted little and achieved
still less. Last of all, I place on record the gratitude I feel toward the
higher mathematician with whose science the reader is occasionally blinded
and to whom (but for other reasons) this book is dedicated.
C. NORTHCOTE PARKINSON
Singapore
1957
CONTENTS
| Preface | vii | |
| 1. | Parkinson's Law, or The Rising Pyramid | 2 |
| 2. | The Will of the People, or Annual General Meeting | 14 |
| 3. | High Finance, or The Point of Vanishing Interest | 24 |
| 4. | Directors and Councils, or Coefficient of Inefficiency | 33 |
| 5. | The Short List, or Principles of Selection | 45 |
| 6. | Plans and Plants, or The Administration Block | 59 |
| 7. | Personality Screen, or The Cocktail Formula | 70 |
| 8. | Injelititis, or Palsied Paralysis | 78 |
| 9. | Palm Thatch to Packard, or A Formula for Success | 91 |
| 10. | Pension Point, or The Age of Retirement | 101 |
xi
1. PARKINSON'S LAW, OR THE RISING PYRAMID
WORK EXPANDS so as to fill the time available for its completion.
General recognition of this fact is shown in the proverbial phrase "It is
the busiest man who has time to spare." Thus, an elderly lady of leisure can
spend the entire day in writing and dispatching a postcard to her niece at
Bognor Regis. An hour will be spent in finding the postcard, another in
hunting for spectacles, half an hour in a search for the address, an hour
and a quarter in composition, and twenty minutes in deciding whether or not
to take an umbrella when going to the mailbox in the next street. The total
effort that would occupy a busy man for three minutes all told may in this
fashion leave another person prostrate after a day of doubt, anxiety, and
toil.
Granted that work (and especially paperwork) is thus elastic in its
demands on time, it is manifest that there need be little or no relationship
between the work to be done and the size of the staff to which it may be
assigned. A lack of real activity does not, of necessity, result in leisure.
A lack of occupation is not necessarily revealed by a manifest idleness. The
thing to be done swells in importance and complexity in a direct ratio with
the time to be spent. This fact 2 is widely recognized, but less attention
has been paid to its wider implications, more especially in the field of
public administration. Politicians and taxpayers have assumed (with
occasional phases of doubt) that a rising total in the number of civil
servants must reflect a growing volume of work to be done. Cynics, in
questioning this belief, have 3 imagined that the multiplication of
officials must have left some of them idle or all of them able to work for
shorter hours. But this is a matter in which faith and doubt seem equally
misplaced. The fact is that the number of the officials and the quantity of
the work are not related to each other at all. The rise in the total of
those employed is governed by Parkinson's Law and would be much the same
whether the volume of the work were to increase, diminish, or even
disappear. The importance of Parkinson's Law lies in the fact that it is a
law of growth based upon an analysis of the factors by which that growth is
controlled.
The validity of this recently discovered law must rest mainly on
statistical proofs, which will follow. Of more interest to the general
reader is the explanation of the factors underlying the general tendency to
which this law gives definition. Omitting technicalities (which are
numerous) we may distinguish at the outset two motive forces. They can be
represented for the present purpose by two almost axiomatic statements,
thus: (1) "An official wants to multiply subordinates, not rivals" and (2)
"Officials make work for each other."
To comprehend Factor 1, we must picture a civil servant, called A, who
finds himself overworked. Whether this overwork is real or imaginary is
immaterial, but we should observe, in passing, that A's sensation (or
illusion) might easily result from his own decreasing energy: a normal
symptom of middle age. For this real or imagined overwork there are, broadly
speaking, three possible remedies. He may resign; he may ask to halve the
work with a colleague called B; he may demand the assistance of two
subordinates, to be called C and D. There is probably no instance 4 in
history, however, of A choosing any but the third alternative. By
resignation he would lose his pension rights. By having B appointed, on his
own level in the hierarchy, he would merely bring in a rival for promotion
to W's vacancy when W (at long last) retires. So A would rather have C and
D, junior men, below him. They will add to his consequence and, by dividing
the work into two categories, as between C and D, he will have the merit of
being the only man who comprehends them both. It is essential to realize at
this point that C and D are, as it were, inseparable. To appoint C alone
would have been impossible. Why? Because C, if by himself, would divide the
work with A and so assume almost the equal status that has been refused in
the first instance to B; a status the more emphasized if C is A's only
possible successor. Subordinates must thus number two or more, each being
thus kept in order by fear of the other's promotion. When C complains in
turn of being overworked (as he certainly will) A will, with the concurrence
of C, advise the appointment of two assistants to help C. But he can then
avert internal friction only by advising the appointment of two more
assistants to help D, whose position is much the same. With this recruitment
of E, F, G, and H the promotion of A is now practically certain.
Seven officials are now doing what one did before. This is where Factor
2 comes into operation. For these seven make so much work for each other
that all are fully occupied and A is actually working harder than ever. An
incoming document may well come before each of them in turn. Official E
decides that it falls within the province of F, who places a draft reply
before C, who amends it drastically before consulting D, who asks G to deal
with it. But G goes 5 on leave at this point, handing the file over to H,
who drafts a minute that is signed by D and returned to C, who revises his
draft accordingly and lays the new version before A.
What does A do? He would have every excuse for signing the thing
unread, for he has many other matters on his mind. Knowing now that he is to
succeed W next year, he has to decide whether C or D should succeed to his
own office. He had to agree to G's going on leave even if not yet strictly
entitled to it. He is worried whether H should not have gone instead, for
reasons of health. He has looked pale recently-- partly but not solely
because of his domestic troubles. Then there is the business of F's special
increment of salary for the period of the conference and E's application for
transfer to the Ministry of Pensions. A has heard that D is in love with a
married typist and that G and F are no longer on speaking terms-- no one
seems to know why. So A might be tempted to sign C's draft and have done
with it. But A is a conscientious man. Beset as he is with problems created
by his colleagues for themselves and for him-- created by the mere fact of
these officials' existence-- he is not the man to shirk his duty. He reads
through the draft with care, deletes the fussy paragraphs added by C and H,
and restores the thing back to the form preferred in the first instance by
the able (if quarrelsome) F. He corrects the English-- none of these young
men can write grammatically-- and finally produces the same reply he would
have written if officials C to H had never been born. Far more people have
taken far longer to produce the same result. No one has been idle. All have
done their best. And it is late in the evening before A finally quits his
office and begins the return journey to Ealing. The last of 6 the office
lights are being turned off in the gathering dusk that marks the end of
another day's administrative toil. Among the last to leave, A reflects with
bowed shoulders and a wry smile that late hours, like gray hairs, are among
the penalties of success.
From this description of the factors at work the student of political
science will recognize that administrators are more or less bound to
multiply. Nothing has yet been said, however, about the period of time
likely to elapse between the date of A's appointment and the date from which
we can calculate the pensionable service of H. Vast masses of statistical
evidence have been collected and it is from a study of this data that
Parkinson's Law has been deduced. Space will not allow of detailed analysis
but the reader will be interested to know that research began in the British
Navy Estimates. These were chosen because the Admiralty's responsibilities
are more easily measurable than those of, say, the Board of Trade. The
question is merely one of numbers and tonnage. Here are some typical
figures. The Strength of the Navy in 1914 could be shown as 146,000 officers
and men, 3249 dockyard officials and clerks, and 57,000 dockyard workmen. By
1928 there were only 100,000 officers and men and only 62,439 workmen, but
the dockyard officials and clerks by then numbered 4558. As for warships,
the strength in 1928 was a mere fraction of what it had been in 1914-- fewer
than 20 capital ships in commission as compared with 62. Over the same
period the Admiralty officials had increased in number from 2000 to 3569,
providing (as was remarked) "a magnificent navy on land." These figures are
more clearly set forth in tabular form. 7
ADMIRALTY STATISTICS
| Year | Capital ships in commission | Officers and men in R.N. | Dockyard workers | Dockyard officials and clerks | Admiralty officials |
| 1914 | 62 | 146,000 | 57,000 | 3249 | 2000 |
| 1928 | 20 | 100,000 | 62,439 | 4558 | 3569 |
| Increase or Decrease | -67.74% | -31.5% | +9.54% | +40.28% | +78.45% |
The criticism voiced at the time centered on the ratio between the
numbers of those available for fighting and those available only for
administration. But that comparison is not to the present purpose. What we
have to note is that the 2000 officials of 1914 had become the 3569 of 1928;
and that this growth was unrelated to any possible increase in their work.
The Navy during that period had diminished, in point of fact, by a third in
men and two-thirds in ships. Nor, from 1922 onward, was its strength even
expected to increase; for its total of ships (unlike its total of officials)
was limited by the Washington Naval Agreement of that year. Here we have
then a 78 per cent increase over a period of fourteen years; an average of
5.6 per cent increase a year on the earlier total. In fact, as we shall see,
the rate of increase was not as regular as that. All we have to consider, at
this stage, is the percentage rise over a given period.
Can this rise in the total number of civil servants be accounted for
except on the assumption that such a total must always rise by a law
governing its growth? It might be urged at this point that the period under
discussion 8 9 was one of rapid development in naval technique. The use of
the flying machine was no longer confined to the eccentric. Electrical
devices were being multiplied and elaborated. Submarines were tolerated if
not approved. Engineer officers were beginning to be regarded as almost
human. In so revolutionary an age we might expect that storekeepers would
have more elaborate inventories to compile. We might not wonder to see more
draughtsmen on the payroll, more designers, more technicians and scientists.
But these, the dockyard officials, increased only by 40 per cent in number
when the men of Whitehall increased their total by nearly 80 per cent. For
every new foreman or electrical engineer at Portsmouth there had to be two
more clerks at Charing Cross. From this we might be tempted to conclude,
provisionally, that the rate of increase in administrative staff is likely
to be double that of the technical staff at a time when the actually useful
strength (in this case, of seamen) is being reduced by 31.5 per cent. It has
been proved statistically, however, that this last percentage is irrelevant.
The officials would have multiplied at the same rate had there been no
actual seamen at all.
It would be interesting to follow the further progress by which the
8118 Admiralty staff of 1935 came to number 33,788 by 1954. But the staff of
the Colonial Office affords a better field of study during a period of
imperial decline. Admiralty statistics are complicated by factors (like the
Fleet Air Arm) that make comparison difficult as between one year and the
next. The Colonial Office growth is more significant in that it is more
purely administrative. Here the relevant statistics are as follows: 10
| 1935 | 1939 | 1943 | 1947 | 1954 |
| 372 | 450 | 817 | 1139 | 1661 |
Before showing what the rate of increase is, we must observe that the
extent of this department's responsibilities was far from constant during
these twenty years. The colonial territories were not much altered in area
or population between 1935 and 1939. They were considerably diminished by
1943, certain areas being in enemy hands. They were increased again in 1947,
but have since then shrunk steadily from year to year as successive colonies
achieve self-government. It would be rational to suppose that these changes
in the scope of Empire would be reflected in the size of its central
administration. But a glance at the figures is enough to convince us that
the staff totals represent nothing but so many stages in an inevitable
increase. And this increase, although related to that observed in other
departments, has nothing to do with the size-- or even the existence-- of
the Empire. What are the percentages of increase? We must ignore, for this
purpose, the rapid increase in staff which accompanied the diminution of
responsibility during World War II. We should note rather, the peacetime
rates of increase: over 5.24 per cent between 1935 and 1939, and 6.55 per
cent between 1947 and 1954. This gives an average increase of 5.89 per cent
each year, a percentage markedly similar to that already found in the
Admiralty staff increase between 1914 and 1928.
Further and detailed statistical analysis of departmental staffs would
be inappropriate in such a work as this. It 11 is hoped, however, to reach a
tentative conclusion regarding the time likely to elapse between a given
official's first appointment and the later appointment of his two or more
assistants.
Dealing with the problem of pure staff accumulation, all our researches
so far completed point to an average increase of 5.75 per cent per year.
This fact established, it now becomes possible to state Parkinson's Law in
mathematical form: In any public administrative department not actually at
war, the staff increase may be expected to follow this formula--
x=(2km+l)/n
k is the number of staff seeking promotion through the appointment of
subordinates; l represents the difference between the ages of appointment
and retirement; m is the number of man-hours devoted to answering minutes
within the department; and n is the number of effective units being
administered. x will be the number of new staff required each year.
Mathematicians will realize, of course, that to find the percentage increase
they must multiply x by 100 and divide by the total of the previous year,
thus:
100 (2km+l)/y n %
where y represents the total original staff. This figure will invariably
prove to be between 5.17 per cent and 6.56 per cent, irrespective of any
variation in the amount of work (if any) to be done. 12
The discovery of this formula and of the general principles upon which
it is based has, of course, no political value. No attempt has been made to
inquire whether departments ought to grow in size. Those who hold that this
growth is essential to gain full employment are fully entitled to their
opinion. Those who doubt the stability of an economy based upon reading each
other's minutes are equally entitled to theirs. It would probably be
premature to attempt at this stage any inquiry into the quantitative ratio
that should exist between the administrators and the administered. Granted,
however, that a maximum ratio exists, it should soon be possible to
ascertain by formula how many years will elapse before that ratio, in any
given community, will be reached. The forecasting of such a result will
again have no political value. Nor can it be sufficiently emphasized that
Parkinson's Law is a purely scientific discovery, inapplicable except in
theory to the politics of the day. It is not the business of the botanist to
eradicate the weeds. Enough for him if he can tell us just how fast they
grow. 13
WE ARE ALL familiar with the basic difference between English and
French parliamentary institutions; copied respectively by such other
assemblies as derive from each. We all realize that this main difference has
nothing to do with national temperament, but stems from their seating plans.
The British, being brought up on team games, enter their House of Commons in
the spirit of those who would rather be doing something else. If they cannot
be playing golf or tennis, they can at least pretend that politics is a game
with very similar rules. But for this device, Parliament would arouse even
less interest than it does. So the British instinct is to form two opposing
teams, with referee and linesmen, and let them debate until they exhaust
themselves. The House of Commons is so arranged that the individual Member
is practically compelled to take one side or the other before he knows what
the arguments are, or even (in some cases) before he knows the subject of
the dispute. His training from birth has been to play for his side, and this
saves him from any undue mental effort. Sliding into a seat toward the end
of a speech, he knows exactly how to take up the argument from the point it
has 14 reached. If the speaker is on his own side of the House, he will say
"Hear, hear!" If he is on the opposite side, he can safely say "Shame!" or
merely "Oh!" At some later stage he may have time to ask his neighbor what
the debate is supposed to be about. Strictly speaking, however, there is no
need for him to do this. He knows enough in any case not to kick into his
own goal. The men who sit opposite are entirely wrong and all their
arguments are so much drivel. The men on his own side are statesmanlike, by
contrast, and their speeches a singular blend of wisdom, eloquence, and
moderation. Nor does it make the slightest difference whether he learned his
politics at Harrow or in following the fortunes of Aston Villa. In either
school he will have learned when to cheer and when to groan. But the British
system depends entirely on its seating plan. If the benches did not face
each other, no one could tell truth from falsehood-- wisdom from folly--
unless indeed 15 by listening to it all. But to listen to it all would be
ridiculous, for half the speeches must of necessity be nonsense.
In France the initial mistake was made of seating the representatives
in a semicircle, all facing the chair. The resulting confusion could be
imagined if it were not notorious. No real opposing teams could be formed
and no one could tell (without listening) which argument was the more
cogent. There was the further handicap of all the proceedings being in
French-- an example the United States wisely refused to follow. But the
French system is bad enough even when the linguistic difficulty does not
arise. Instead of having two sides, one in the right and the other in the
wrong-- so that the issue is clear from the outset-- the French form a
multitude of teams facing in all directions. With the field in such
confusion, the game cannot even begin. Basically their representatives are
of the Right or of the Left, according to where they sit. This is a
perfectly sound scheme. The French have not gone to the extreme of seating
people in alphabetical order. But the semicircular chamber allows of subtle
distinctions between the various degrees of tightness and leftness. There is
none of the clear-cut British distinction between rightness and wrongness.
One deputy is described, politically, as to the left of Monsieur Untel but
well to the right of Monsieur Quelquechose. What is anyone to make of that?
What should we make of it even in English? What do they make of it
themselves? The answer is, "Nothing."
All this is generally known. What is less generally recognized is that
the paramount importance of the seating 16 plan applies to other assemblies
and meetings, international, national, and local. It applies, moreover, to
meetings round a table such as occur at a Round Table Conference. A moment's
thought will convince us that a Square Table Conference would be something
totally different and a Long Table Conference would be different again.
These differences do not merely affect the length and acrimony of the
discussion; they also affect what (if anything) is decided. Rarely, as we
know, will the voting relate to the merits of the case. The final decision
is influenced by a variety of factors, few of which need concern us at the
moment. We should note, however, that the issue is actually decided, in the
end, by the votes of the center bloc. This would not be true in the House of
Commons, where no such bloc is allowed to develop. But at other conferences
the center bloc is all important. This bloc essentially comprises the
following elements:
a. Those who have failed to master any one of the memoranda written in
advance and showered weeks beforehand on all those who are expected to be
present.
b. Those who are too stupid to follow the proceedings at all. These are
readily distinguishable by their tendency to mutter to each other: "What is
the fellow talking about?"
c. Those who are deaf. They sit with their hands cupping their ears,
growling "I wish people would speak up."
d. Those who were dead drunk in the small hours and have turned up
(heaven knows why) with a splitting headache and a conviction that nothing
matters either way.
e. The senile, whose chief pride is in being as fit as ever-- fitter
indeed than a lot of these younger men. "I 17 walked here," they whisper.
"Pretty good for a man of eighty-two, what?"
f. The feeble, who have weakly promised to support both sides and don't
know what to do about it. They are of two minds as to whether they should
abstain from voting or pretend to be sick.
Toward capturing the votes of the center bloc the first step is to
identify and count the members. That done, everything else depends on where
they are to sit. The best technique is to detail off known and stalwart
supporters to enter into conversation with named middle-bloc types before
the meeting actually begins. In this preliminary chat the stalwarts will
carefully avoid mentioning the main subject of debate. They will be trained
to use the opening gambits listed below, corresponding to the categories a
to f, into which the middle bloc naturally falls:
a. "Waste of time, I call it, producing all these documents. I have
thrown most of mine away."
b. "I expect we shall be dazzled by eloquence before long. I often wish
people would talk less and come to the point. They are too clever by half,
if you ask me."
c. "The acoustics of this hall are simply terrible. You would have
thought these scientific chaps could do something about it. For half the
time I CAN'T HEAR WHAT IS BEING SAID. CAN YOU?"
d. "What a rotten place to meet! I think there is something the matter
with the ventilation. It makes me feel almost unwell. What about you?"
e. "My goodness, I don't know how you do it! Tell me the secret. Is it
what you have for breakfast?"
f. "There's so much to be said on both sides of the 18 question that I
really don't know which side to support. What do you feel about it?"
If these gambits are correctly played, each stalwart will start a
lively conversation, in the midst of which he will steer his middle-blocsman
toward the forum. As he does this, another stalwart will place himself just
ahead of the pair and moving in the same direction. The drill is best
illustrated by a concrete example. We will suppose that stalwart X (Mr.
Sturdy) is steering middle-blocsman Y (Mr. Waverley, type f) toward a seat
near the front. Ahead goes stalwart Z (Mr. Staunch), who presently takes a
seat without appearing to notice the two men following him. Staunch turns in
the opposite direction and waves to someone in the distance. Then he leans
over to make a few remarks to the man in front of him. Only when Waverley
has sat down will Staunch presently turn toward him and say, "My dear
fellow-- how nice to see you!" Only some minutes later again will he catch
sight of Sturdy and start visibly with surprise. "Hallo, Sturdy-- I didn't
think you would be here!" "I've recovered now," replies Sturdy. "It was only
a chill." The seating order is thus made to appear completely accidental,
casual, and friendly. That completes Phase I of the operation, and it would
be much the same whatever the exact category in which the middle-blocsman is
believed to fall.
Phase II has to be adjusted according to the character of the man to be
influenced. In the case of Waverley (Type f) the object in Phase II is to
avoid any discussion of the matter at issue but to produce the impression
that the thing is already decided. Seated near the front, Waverley will be
unable to see much of the other members and 19 can be given the impression
that they practically all think alike.
"Really," says Sturdy, "I don't know why I bothered to come. I gather
that Item Four is pretty well agreed. All the fellows I meet seem to have
made up their minds to vote for it." (Or against it, as the case may be.)
"Curious," says Staunch. "I was just going to say the same thing. The
issue hardly seems to be in doubt."
"I had not really made up my own mind," says Sturdy. 20 "There was much
to be said on either side. But opposition would really be a waste of time.
What do you think, Waverley?"
"Well," says Waverley, "I must admit that I find the question rather
baffling. On the one hand, there is good reason to agree to the motion ...
As against that... Do you think it will pass?"
"My dear Waverley, I would trust your judgment in this. You were saying
just now that it is already agreed." 21
"Oh, was I? Well, there does seem to be a majority. ... Or perhaps I
should say ..."
"Thank you, Waverley," says Staunch, "for your opinion. I think just
the same but am particularly interested to find you agree with me. There is
no one whose opinion I value more."
Sturdy, meanwhile, is leaning over to talk to someone in the row
behind. What he actually says, in a low voice, is this, "How is your wife
now? Is she out of hospital?" When he turns back again, however, it is to
announce that the people behind all think the same. The motion is as good as
passed. And so it is if the drill goes according to plan.
While the other side has been busy preparing speeches and phrasing
amendments, the side with the superior technique will have concentrated on
pinning each middle-blocsman between two reliable supporters. When the
crucial moment comes, the raising of a hand on either side will practically
compel the waverer to follow suit. Should he be actually asleep, as often
happens with middle-blocsman in categories d and e, his hand will be raised
for him by the member on his right. This rule is merely to obviate both his
hands being raised, a gesture that has been known to attract unfavorable
comment. With the middle bloc thus secured, the motion will be carried with
a comfortable margin; or else rejected, if that is thought preferable. In
nearly every matter of controversy to be decided by the will of the people,
we can assume that the people who will decide are members of the middle
bloc. Delivery of speeches is therefore a waste of time. The one party will
never agree and the other party has agreed 22 already. Remains the middle
bloc, the members of which divide into those who cannot hear what is being
said and those who would not understand it even if they did. To secure their
votes what is needed is primarily the example of others voting on either
side of them. Their votes can thus be swayed by accident. How much better,
by contrast, to sway them by design! 23
PEOPLE WHO understand high finance are of two kinds: those who have
vast fortunes of their own and those who have nothing at all. To the actual
millionaire a million dollars is something real and comprehensible. To the
applied mathematician and the lecturer in economics (assuming both to be
practically starving) a million dollars is at least as real as a thousand,
they having never possessed either sum. But the world is full of people who
fall between these two categories, knowing nothing of millions but well
accustomed to think in thousands, and it is of these that finance committees
are mostly comprised. The result is a phenomenon that has often been
observed but never yet investigated. It might be termed the Law of
Triviality. Briefly stated, it means that the time spent on any item of the
agenda will be in inverse proportion to the sum involved.
On second thoughts, the statement that this law has never been
investigated is not entirely accurate. Some work has actually been done in
this field, but the investigators pursued a line of inquiry that led them
nowhere. They assumed that the greatest significance should attach to the
order in which items of the agenda are taken. They assumed, 24 further, that
most of the available time will be spent on items one to seven and that the
later items will be allowed automatically to pass. The result is well known.
The derision with which Dr. Guggenheim's lecture was received at the
Muttworth Conference may have been thought excessive at the time, but all
further discussions on this topic have tended to show that his critics were
right. Years had been wasted in a research of which the basic assumptions
were wrong. We realize now that position on the agenda is a minor
consideration, so far, at least, as this problem is concerned. We consider
also that Dr. Guggenheim was lucky to escape as he did, in his underwear.
Had he dared to put his lame conclusions before the later conference in
September, he would have faced something more than derision. The view would
have been taken that he was deliberately wasting time.
If we are to make further progress in this investigation we must ignore
all that has so far been done. We must start at the beginning and understand
fully the way in which a finance committee actually works. For the sake of
the general reader this can be put in dramatic form thus:
Chairman We come now to Item Nine. Our Treasurer, Mr. McPhail, will report.
Mr. McPhail The estimate for the Atomic Reactor is before you, sir, set
forth in Appendix H of the subcommittee's report. You will see that the
general design and layout has been approved by Professor McFission. The
total cost will amount to $10,000,000. The contractors, Messrs. McNab and
McHash, consider that the work should be complete 25 by April, 1959. Mr.
McFee, the consulting engineer, warns us that we should not count on
completion before October, at the earliest. In this view he is supported by
Dr. McHeap, the well-known geophysicist, who refers to the probable need for
piling at the lower end of the site. The plan of the main building is before
you-- see Appendix IX-- and the blueprint is laid on the table. I shall be
glad to give any further information that members of this committee may
require.
Chairman Thank you, Mr. McPhail, for your very lucid explanation of the plan
as proposed. I will now invite the members present to give us their views.
It is necessary to pause at this point and consider what views the
members are likely to have. Let us suppose that they number eleven,
including the Chairman but excluding the Secretary. Of these eleven members,
four-- including the chairman-- do not know what a reactor is. Of the
remainder, three do not know what it is for. Of those who know its purpose,
only two have the least idea of what it should cost. One of these is Mr.
Isaacson, the other is Mr. Brickworth. Either is in a position to say
something. We may suppose that Mr. Isaacson is the first to speak.
Mr. Isaacson Well, Mr. Chairman. I could wish that I felt more confidence in
our contractors and consultant. Had we gone to Professor Levi in the first
instance, and had the contract been given to Messrs. David and Goliath, I
should have been happier about the whole scheme. Mr. Lyon-Daniels would not
have wasted our time with wild guesses about the possible delay in
completion, and Dr. 26 Moses Bullrush would have told us definitely whether
piling would be wanted or not.
Chairman I am sure we all appreciate Mr. Isaacson's anxiety to complete this
work in the best possible way. I feel, however, that it is rather late in
the day to call in new technical advisers. I admit that the main contract
has still to be signed, but we have already spent very large sums. If we
reject the advice for which we have paid, we shall have to pay as much
again.
(Other members murmur agreement.)
Mr. Isaacson I should like my observation to be minuted.
Chairman Certainly. Perhaps Mr. Brickworth also has something to say on this
matter?
Now Mr. Brickworth is almost the only man there who knows what he is
talking about. There is a great deal he could say. He distrusts that round
figure of $10,000,000. Why should it come out to exactly that? Why need they
demolish the old building to make room for the new approach? Why is so large
a sum set aside for "contingencies"? And who is McHeap, anyway? Is he the
man who was sued last year by the Trickle and Driedup Oil Corporation? But
Brickworth does not know where to begin. The other members could not read
the blueprint if he referred to it. He would have to begin by explaining
what a reactor is and no one there would admit that he did not already know.
Better to say nothing. 27
Mr. Brickworth I have no comment to make.
Chairman Does any other member wish to speak? Very well. I may take it then
that the plans and estimates are approved? Thank you. May I now sign the
main contract on your behalf? (Murmur of agreement) Thank you. We can now
move on to Item Ten.
Allowing a few seconds for rustling papers and unrolling diagrams, the
time spent on Item Nine will have been just two minutes and a half. The
meeting is going well. But 28 some members feel uneasy about Item Nine. They
wonder inwardly whether they have really been pulling their weight. It is
too late to query that reactor scheme, but they would like to demonstrate,
before the meeting ends, that they are alive to all that is going on.
Chairman Item Ten. Bicycle shed for the use of the clerical staff. An
estimate has been received from Messrs. Bodger and Woodworm, who undertake
to complete the work for the sum of $2350. Plans and specification are
before you, gentlemen.
Mr. Softleigh Surely, Mr. Chairman, this sum is excessive. I note that the
roof is to be of aluminum. Would not asbestos be cheaper?
Mr. Holdfast I agree with Mr. Softleigh about the cost, but the roof should,
in my opinion, be of galvanized iron. I incline to think that the shed could
be built for $2000, or even less.
Mr. Daring I would go further, Mr. Chairman. I question whether this shed is
really necessary. We do too much for our staff as it is. They are never
satisfied, that is the trouble. They will be wanting garages next.
Mr. Holdfast No, I can't support Mr. Daring on this occasion. I think that
the shed is needed. It is a question of material and cost...
The debate is fairly launched. A sum of $2350 is well within
everybody's comprehension. Everyone can visualize a bicycle shed. Discussion
goes on, therefore, for forty-five 29 minutes, with the possible result of
saving some $300. Members at length sit back with a feeling of achievement.
Chairman Item Eleven. Refreshments supplied at meetings of the Joint Welfare
Committee. Monthly, $4.75.
Mr. Softleigh What type of refreshment is supplied on these occasions?
Chairman Coffee, I understand.
Mr. Holdfast And this means an annual charge of-- let me see-- $57?
Chairman That is so.
Mr. Daring Well, really, Mr. Chairman. I question whether this is justified.
How long do these meetings last?
Now begins an even more acrimonious debate. There may be members of the
committee who might fail to distinguish between asbestos and galvanized
iron, but every man there knows about coffee-- what it is, how it should be
made, where it should be bought-- and whether indeed it should be bought at
all. This item on the agenda will occupy the members for an hour and a
quarter, and they will end by asking the Secretary to procure further
information, leaving the matter to be decided at the next meeting.
It would be natural to ask at this point whether a still smaller sum--
$20, perhaps, or $10-- would occupy the Finance Committee for a
proportionately longer time. On this point, it must be admitted, we are
still ignorant. Our tentative conclusion must be that there is a point at
which the whole tendency is reversed, the committee members 30 concluding
that the sum is beneath their notice. Research has still to establish the
point at which this reversal occurs. The transition from the $50 debate (an
hour and a quarter) to the $20 debate (two and a half minutes) is indeed an
abrupt one. It would be the more interesting to establish the exact point at
which it occurs. More than that, it would be of practical value. Supposing,
for example, that the point of vanishing interest is represented by the sum
of $35, the Treasurer with an item of $62.80 on the agenda might well decide
to present it as two items, one of $30.00 and the other of $32.80, with an
evident saving in time and effort.
31 Conclusions at this juncture can be merely tentative, but there is
some reason to suppose that the point of vanishing interest represents the
sum the individual committee member is willing to lose on a bet or subscribe
to a charity. An inquiry on these lines conducted on racecourses and in
Methodist chapels, might go far toward solving the problem. Far greater
difficulty may be encountered in attempting to discover the exact point at
which the sum involved becomes too large to discuss at all. One thing
apparent, however, is that the time spent on $10,000,000 and on $10 may well
prove to be the same. The present estimated time of two and a half minutes
is by no means exact, but there is clearly a space of time-- something
between two and four and a half minutes-- which suffices equally for the