In the vast field of management, theories appear and disappear like hotcakes. Each era invents its “-ism”, each fashion its jargon, each century its definitive revolution which is not one. First there was Taylorism, this ingenious system which reduces man to the role of a bolt and work to the art of methodically dying of boredom. Then Henri Fayol developed the thesis of the five major functions of management – “plan, organize, command, coordinate, control” – and reduced management to human logistics. Then Max Weber arrives with his bureaucracy with icy rules and his hierarchy of steel. The years go by, and so do fashions. Place the behavioral approaches of the 1930s-1960s. Abraham Maslow appeared with his famous pyramid of needs, a marvelous invention which made humanity understand that to achieve fulfillment it was better not to be too hungry. Douglas McGregor, another designer, divides humanity into two camps: the lazy to be monitored and controlled (theory X) and the motivated who just need to be trusted to perform well (theory Y). Modernity is running out of steam, and with it the dream of a completely manageable man.
The 1960s and 1980s saw the flowering of systemic theories, where the company became a gigantic living organism, interconnected, interdependent, subject to its environment. Their theorists then speak emphatically of adaptability and agility. But, never satisfied, theory lovers import other methods, inspired in the West by Peter Drucker’s management by objectives, and in the East by lean management Japanese. Flexibility, short cycles, continuous improvement therefore become the new incantations.
Today, managers who are heirs to these multiple theories, each more advanced than the other, add a little bioethical sauce, a hint of inclusiveness, a pinch of CSR, feeling forced to submit to the new managerial codes.
Kindness cannot be learned from textbooks
But, whatever the effectiveness of these methods and the relevance of these theories, what do employees really learn from these conceptual constructions, these clever theorems and these cleverly designed models? Nothing or very little. Because we do not manage so much with theories, systems and doctrines as with words, gestures and qualities. What we appreciate in our manager over time and what leaves an indelible memory in the hearts of men, these are attitudes, attentions, actions, which mostly fall under what Vassili Grossman calls ” little kindness” (Life and destiny): “It is the kindness of a night light, placed at the side of the road to guide a lost person. The kindness of a soldier who hands his flask to his wounded enemy, of a peasant who shares his bread with an old man , or that of a prison guard who, despite chains and bars, transmits letters from prisoners to loved ones.”
Timeless, discreet, humble, this goodness is not embarrassed by any pretension and remains impervious to fashions and doctrines. Subtle, it never allows itself to be captured in systems or methods. It does not appear in any management manual, but is revealed in humanity through a gesture, an action or a word. Unlike grandiose theories, often imbued with managerial idealization and schematic pretensions, it is the absolute antithesis of what management theorists love, namely the rationalization and modeling of behavior. This goodness cannot be intellectualized, it is a quality of soul which cannot be the subject of any behavioral recipe. It is a simple, disinterested, spontaneous gesture, which has no other aim than to help, which aims at no other objective than that of support, and in this reveals the essence of what is expected from each other, namely what constitutes the humanity of a being. This goodness emerges, for example, in the complicity of an understanding look, in the gentleness of a discretion, in the grace of an elegance or the warmth of a gesture. She does not take advantage of the other’s weaknesses. It’s a kindness without arrogance that makes vulnerability a shared strength.
* Julia de Funès is a doctor of philosophy.
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