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Norvig says (with tweaks to the contemporary references by me) ...

Researchers (Bloom & Sosniak, 1985; Bryan & Harter, 1899; Hayes, 1981; Simmon & Chase,1973) have shown it takes about ten years to develop expertise in any of a wide variety of areas, including chess playing, music composition, telegraph operation, painting, piano playing, swimming, tennis, and research in neuropsychology and topology. The key is deliberative practice: not just doing it again and again, but challenging yourself with a task that is just beyond your current ability, trying it, analyzing your performance while and after doing it, and correcting any mistakes. Then repeat. And repeat again. There appear to be no real shortcuts: even Mozart, who was a musical prodigy at age 4, took 13 more years before he began to produce world-class music. In another genre, the Beatles seemed to burst onto the scene with a string of #1 hits and an appearance on the Ed Sullivan show in 1964. But they had been playing small clubs in Liverpool and Hamburg since 1957, and while they had mass appeal early on, their first great critical success, Sgt. Peppers, was released in 1967. Malcolm Gladwell (2009) reports that a study of students at the Berlin Academy of Music compared the top, middle, and bottom third of the class and asked them how much they had practiced:

Everyone, from all three groups, started playing at roughly the same time - around the age of five. In those first few years, everyone practised roughly the same amount - about two or three hours a week. But around the age of eight real differences started to emerge. The students who would end up as the best in their class began to practise more than everyone else: six hours a week by age nine, eight by age 12, 16 a week by age 14, and up and up, until by the age of 20 they were practising well over 30 hours a week. By the age of 20, the elite performers had all totalled 10,000 hours of practice over the course of their lives. The merely good students had totalled, by contrast, 8,000 hours, and the future music teachers just over 4,000 hours.

So it may be that 10,000 hours, not 10 years, is the magic number. Samuel Johnson (1709-1784) thought it took longer: "Excellence in any department can be attained only by the labor of a lifetime; it is not to be purchased at a lesser price." And Chaucer (1340-1400) complained "the lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne." Hippocrates (c. 400BC) is known for the excerpt "ars longa, vita brevis", which is part of the longer quotation "Ars longa, vita brevis, occasio praeceps, experimentum periculosum, iudicium difficile", which in English renders as "Life is short, [the] craft long, opportunity fleeting, experiment treacherous, judgment difficult." Although in Latin, ars can mean either art or craft, in the original Greek the word "techne" can only mean "skill", not "art".

References

The Chronicle of Higher Education led me to an interesting article on learning styles by Pashler, McDaniel, Rohrer, and Bjork (2009).

The summary of the article outlines the idea of learning styles:

The term ''learning styles'' refers to the concept that individuals differ in regard to what mode of instruction or study is most effective for them. Proponents of learning-style assessment contend that optimal instruction requires diagnosing individuals' learning style and tailoring instruction accordingly. Assessments of learning style typically ask people to evaluate what sort of information presentation they prefer (e.g., words versus pictures versus speech) and/or what kind of mental activity they find most engaging or congenial (e.g., analysis versus listening), although assessment instruments are extremely diverse. The most common--but not the only--hypothesis about the instructional relevance of learning styles is the meshing hypothesis, according to which instruction is best provided in a format that matches the preferences of the learner (e.g., for a ''visual learner,'' emphasizing visual presentation of information).

The learning-styles view has acquired great influence within the education field, and is frequently encountered at levels ranging from kindergarten to graduate school. There is a thriving industry devoted to publishing learning-styles tests and guidebooks for teachers, and many organizations offer professional development workshops for teachers and educators built around the concept of learning styles.

The article, commissioned by Psychological Science in the Public Interest, goes on to question what evidence there is to support these type of practices; i.e., is there evidence that attending to learning styles has a material impact on learning?

I think my first exposure to the notion of learning styles was through Darl Kolb who gave me David Kolb's (1976) classic article to read. One take-away I had from that article was, that although we might have preferences (in our style of learning) it is generally a good thing to be able to draw on all the styles. In particular Kolb (1976, p. 30) says "When one perspective [learning style] comes to dominate others, learning effectiveness is reduced in the long run. From this we can conclude that the most effective learning systems are those that can tolerate differences in perspective". For Kolb (1976) and for Pashler et al., (2009) there is clear--if not undisputed evidence--that people have preferences as to how they learn. The question remains as to how much those preferences should be accommodated in the educational process; is learning ineffective, or less effective if learning styles are not taken into consideration?

Having considered the evidence the conclusion Pashler et al., (2009) draw is that, generally, the nature of the content should determine the style of learning adopted. For example, the Chronicle of Higher Education describes how learning about the structure of molecules is better for most students (independent of learning styles) by building ball-and-stick models. Even those students who have a preference for verbal learning will do better if taught in this kinesthetic manner (rather that catering to their preference). The Chronicle says "teachers should worry about matching their instruction to the content they are teaching. Some concepts are best taught through hands-on work, some are best taught through lectures, and some are best taught through group discussions".

The fallacy that the authors seem to uncover is the argument that "student X didn't do well because the teaching didn't accommodate their particular learning style". If the learning style matches the content (rather than the students preference) then usually the student will do better.

Returning to Kolb (David not Darl), the Chronicle of Higher Education reports that he says:

that the paper's bottom line is probably correct: There is no strong evidence that teachers should tailor their instruction to their students' particular learning styles. (Mr. Kolb has argued for many years that college students are better off if they choose a major that fits their learning style. But his advice to teachers is that they should lead their classes through a full "learning cycle," without regard to their students' particular styles.)

So whither learning styles? For me, it means that the content should determine the means of teaching.

References

"It is exactly in those organizations in which control through the narrowing, trivialization, and decomposition of full participation is most common--in schools and workplaces--that learning is most often an institutional motive and yet, by the argument here, most likely to fail" (Lave, 1991, p. 78).

References

In a recent article Varoufakis (2008, p.1259-1260) says:

To give an example, consider the following simple N-person game known as the Race-to-Zero. N players are asked to write on a piece of paper (in isolation from one another) a real number between 0 and 100 (inclusive). The player whose chosen number is nearest the maximum choice among all players divided by two wins £1m times her choice of number. (Joint winners divide the spoils.) Is there a 'solution' to this game? Is there an equilibrium towards which the players' choices will tend the more rationally they think? What number should one write down? Nash suggests that rational players would immediately decide that it makes no sense to choose a number in excess of 50, thinking that: 'Since the largest number that can be chosen is 100, and I win if my choice is nearest to that maximum choice divided by 2, I should never choose a number above 50.' However, this thought immediately begets another, infinitely longer, thought:

'If I am clever enough to work this out, then the rest will also work this out too. Therefore none will select a number greater than 50, in which case I must not choose any number above 25. But if this is so, will the others not know this to be so too? And if they do, will they not restrict their choices to a maximum of 25? Then I must not go beyond 12.5.'

And so on. Asymptotically, one's optimal choice of number tends to zero just as surely as the proverbial rock rolls down a hill until, asymptotically, it hits rock-bottom. 'Choose zero' is, therefore, the game's equilibrium.

I often have problems following such ad infinitum reasoning. What Varoufakis is saying is that rational thinkers will select zero as the best option. And yet it clearly isn't the best solution.

Firstly, there is no payout at zero, so it makes no sense to choose zero as ones best choice. Why would anyone make a choice where the payout is guaranteed to be zero (and this isn't even a zero sum game). Any number other than zero is a better number (in fact one could argue that one is a where things will come to rest).

Secondly, If I truly believe that everyone else will chose zero then I should choose 100. If everyone else chooses zero, and I choose £100, we are all the same distance from the maximum choice divided by two (0-50-100), so I am a winner (as is everyone else). But my payout is 50 x £1m, and not 50 x £0.

Now, if everyone thinks as I do, and they all pick 100, then we are all winners, albeit that we have to share the money. Of course, if one some 'smart Alec' goes it alone and picks 50 then I am 'stuffed'... and the circle starts again, and I should then pick 50. And if I do, then everyone else. At which point we're back to what Varoufakis says should happen, everyone gravitates to zero.

Except of course the zero choice makes no sense (as there is no pay-off). Consequently, I don't think there is a 'rational' solution. There is no point of equilibrium (Nash or otherwise -- but since I'm not a mathematician, nor a game theorist perhaps I shouldn't be so bold in my assertion).

As an aside, if one is actually the number that the rest of the players choose, then it still makes sense for me to go for 99 . I'll leave it to you, the reader, to figure out where (if at all) is the point of equilibrium exists in this version of the game.

My argument is that there is no logical (aka rational) solution except not to pick zero. More generally I would say that there is no point of equilibrium for all players in this game. Either that, or if the 'rational' thing to do is to go with zero--and that we expect rational behaviour from everyone else--then best thing to do is be 'irrational' and go with 100.

Someone, please point the error in my logic.

References

Today, I saw Professor Yehuda Baruch from the University of East Anglia at Norwich run a workshop called _Opening the black box of academic reviewing and editing _. The session was jointly hosted by the department of Management and International Business and the department of Psychology.

It was a most informative session, so much so that subsequently, I got his book out of the library:

As much as the workshop was useful the book is even better. If I get some time, I'll summarise the ideas here.

I was tracking down some information on methodology (in particular the work of J-C Spender when I came across his web site.

It put me on to a good Org. Theory site, called (unsurprisingly) OrgTheory

Anyway, going back to John-Christopher, one of his best works is:

Spender, J.-C. (1989). Industry recipes: An enquiry into the nature and sources of managerial judgement. Cambridge, MA: Basil Blackwell.

This book is no longer in print, but JC is distributing from his web site. It's an absolute classic, so if you don't have a copy download one. What I didn't know is that the book was based on his PhD thesis — That must of been one outstanding thesis.

I've mentioned elsewhere Emirbayer & Minche's great article on agency. In that article they refer to projects of action, and in particular an piece by Alfred Schutz, namely:

Schutz, A. (1962). Choosing among projects of action. In M. A. Natanson (Ed.), Collected papers: Volume 1, The problem of social reality (pp. 67-98). The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff.

Here are my notes from that chapter

1. The concept of action

2. The time structure of the project

3. In-order-to and because motive

4. Fancying and projecting

5. The foundation of practicability
a) The world as taken for granted
b) The biographically determined situation

6. Doubting and questioning

7. The problematic and open possibilities according to Husserl

8. Choosing among objects within reach

9. Choosing among projects

10. Bergson's theory of choice

11. Leibniz's theory of volition

12. The problem of weight

13. Summary and conclusion

My comments

I was at a seminar to day with Anne Huff when she mentioned an old article by Murray Davis. We'll I'm always a sucker for a good reference, so I dutifully went and had a look at Google. The first reference it through up (which has a bit of summary of the article) provided enough information for me to get a copy of the original article.

So these are my notes on the article. Oh, I don't intended to summarise the article (what's the point of that), rather I want to get my thoughts down as to how this article helps my thinking on strategy-as-practice.

A theorist is considered great not because of the truth of falsity of what they say, but because what they say is interesting. So this article seeks to discover what is interesting. As an aside I recall that in other fields of (positivist) research, greatness has been defined not so much by interestingness but also by the elegance of the theory. I'm sure David Barry would have something to say here about elegance and aesthetics.

Anyway, back to the article by Davis. What is particular interesting to me (and here is the link to strategy-as-practice) is the idea that an interesting idea is one that shows that "What seems to be assorted heterogeneous phenomena are in reality composed of a single element" (Davis, 1971, p. 315). and that

Many natural and social scientists have made their reputations by pointing out that the appearance of a natural or social phenomena is an illusion and that what the phenomenon really consists of lies 'below' its surface. Their 'profound' insight is considered especially interesting when these theorists also assert that the 'fundamental' nature ('depth structure') of the phenomenon contradicts the surface impression, as, for example the seemingly continuous appearance of a table is contradicted by the discreet molecules of which it is actually composed.

Much of the dialogue in the Strategy-as-practice arena is about the relationship between the macro and the micro. And yet. And yet, I have never really been convinced that such a distinction is warranted. As yet, I don't have much to support that -- other ontological/epistemological stances such as Garfinkle's ethnomethodology (1967) would adopt a similar stance to mine -- but I need to find a way to justify my position within my ontological/epistemological stance.

Once the division between the micro and the macro is removed, then we can concentrate on (and here I flip back into the 'old' terminology) how the micro impacts the macro.

To end with, I think this article is useful in understanding why some articles really seem to work, whilst others just seem to say nothing of note.

References

Abstract to Davis's That's interesting
QUESTION: How do theories which are generally considered interesting differ from theories which are generally considered non-interesting? ANSWER: Interesting theories are those which deny certain assumptions of their audiences, while non interesting theories are those which affirm certain interests of their audience. This answer was arrived at through the examination of a number of famous social, and especially sociological, theories. That examination also generated a systematic index of the variety of propositional firms which interesting and non-interesting theories may take. The fertility of this approach suggests a new field be established called the Sociology of the Interesting, which is intended to supplement the Sociology of Knowledge. This new field will be phenomenological orientated in so far as it will focus on the movement of the audience's mind from one accepted theory to another. It will be sociologically orientated in so far as it will focus in the dissimilar base-line theories of he various sociological categories which compose the audience. In addition to its value in interpreting the social impact of theories, the Sociology of the Interesting can contribute to our understanding of both the common sense and scientific perspectives on reality.

A romp through:

Greenwood, R., & Hinings, C. R. (1993). Understanding strategic change: The contribution of archetypes. Academy of Management Journal, 36(5), 1052-1081.

The abstract says:

We examined the concept of archetype, implicit in a number of contemporary approaches to the study of organizational design and change. Despite an emerging interest in archetypes, the concept has received inadequate investigation. The present article offers a basis for definition of the concept and sets down three assumptions, which we tested using data collected longitudinally from 24 organizations. We present a number of theoretical and methodological implications of the archetype approach to the study of organizational change.

I was reading an old article by Miller (1987) on the relationship between strategy and structure (or is it structure and strategy), and in my notes I asked the question "Is there a link between the notion of organisational gestalts", which was very contemporary then, "and the idea of archetypes?" The answer, based on this article is yes. Organisational archetypes, configurations, and gestalts are all part of the same quest to study how organisations are transformed and develop--or to put it another way it is "a central thrust of organizational theory ... the need to understand organizational diversity through typologies¹" (Greenwood & Hinings, 1993, p. 1053).

Anyway, as I've said elsewhere, "An archetype is ... a set of structures and systems that reflects a single interpretive scheme" (Greenwood & Hinings, 1993, p. 1052). The article seeks to provide an understanding of large-scale change as an organisation moves from one archetype to another (as opposed to micro or incremental changes within the organisation).

Again, this article has a common heritage with other articles from these authors. For example, it relies on the article by Miller (1987) that started this current discussion--i.e. the three dimensions of decision making; rationality, assertiveness, and interaction--and Greenwoods & Hinings own work on tracks (1988).

One of the things that struck me in reading this article is the hypothesis that "organizations will develop structures and systems consistent with a single interpretive scheme" (emphasis added, Greenwood & Hinings, 1993, p. 1056). Why should this be so? Surely a firm could be developing multiple, contested structures and systems? Greenwood and Hinings bring together a number of ideas to explain why this isn't the case. The ideas of best, dominant coalitions and shared culture are the main reasons given.

The second idea I took away from the reading is that an archetype would be specific to an institution--that is to say they would not be "generic" in nature. I always assumed that an archetype would be more like an 'ideal-type' of configuration.

From the point of view of writing an article I was struck that in a prestigious journal, such as the Academy of Management Journal, the fact that the results were ambiguous did not preclude the article from being published. That is good news.

References

¹ We westerners seem to love to classify and clarify (to mis-quote 99 Red Balloons by Nina). And yet, and yet this form of knowledge making (as exemplified by the 2 × 2 matrix) is often something academics look down upon.

In his classic article, Arch W. Shaw explores Some problems in market distribution (Shaw, 1912). He describes how production is only one half of industry; having produced the product it needs to be distributed. The choice of method to distribute the product needs careful consideration. Selling direct to customers, using one's own salespeople, using wholesalers, and other intermediaries all have an impact on the value that the producer receives that the consumer receives and that the middlemen receives.

In many ways Shaw's model of distribution pre-dates Porter's value chain (Porter, 1980) or value system in showing how organisations are linked together. It is often assumed that the most value is obtained by those people who are closest to the customer. For example a farmer growing coffee beans in South America gets very little value for his beans compared with the price the final consumer pays for a cappuccino. Where, in this chain of distribution, is the most value being appropriated by the various middlemen?

This does not always mean those his best to be selling direct to the customer. Sometimes this is wholly impractical or cost inefficient. Using the example above, is it realistic for the farmer growing the beans to sell his produce to the end-user i.e. the coffee drinker? The same is probably also true for the manufacture of baked beans does a consumer actually what I baked beans as a distinct purchase from the producer, or would they rather purchase than baked beans as part of a collection of products at the same time at the supermarket? Similar examples can be found for when it is best to sell through wholesalers, distributors, or other middlemen.

Shaw also makes the point that the needs and wants of such middlemen are almost always different to those of the end consumer; they have different conceptions of what is valuable. For example a wholesaler may only be interested in selling a product if they believe it is in some demand at the right price by retailers. Whereas retailers may only be interested in selling the product if they believe that the consumer values the product over other products.

As an aside, Shaw's article is also interesting in explaining the development of modern distribution systems.

References