The Futures of Culture (1988)

By Sohail Inayatullah

Present Images, Past Visions, and Future Hopes
Presented at the World Futures Studies Federation Conference, Beijing China,
September 1988

Present and Past: 

Like a running stream of water, Culture is ever changing, ever moving. This is not to say that cultural change is one continuous motion. Rather, like almost everything else in this universe, it moves in cycles, it pulsates. There are times of rapid cultural change and there are times when the speed and the resultant shock of the future force various pasts to return. This return for some is a desire for a permanent home, for others it is the hope of including some features of the past in the present, and finally for some it is a short pause in the stream’s onward movement.

This tension between the present and the desire to recreate alternative pasts is a major unifying theme among the many development oriented social, political and economic discourses of today. In general, it is groups who have found that their choices have been narrowed by the onrush of modernity, of dominant hegemonic cultural forms, that yearn for the past. These groups are often those in the periphery, the third world; as well as, women, the poor, the elderly and ethnic cultures within the first world.

However, although sympathetic, I find attempts to recreate the past, reactionary, as the ancient polities and economies that individuals yearn for are no longer relevant, and, in fact, are incredibly romanticized. I am sympathetic because their, our, choices for the future have been robbed, because their values have been cannibalized by the dominant civilization and culture such that all that is left is the past. Hawaiians, for example, long for the days of their beloved Queen Liliokalani or their King Kalakaua. The image is of a time when hula was preformed to the Gods of nature, where agriculture satisfied basic needs, and where all in all people were believed to be happy. It is a time before the forces of modernity created a division of labor, before natives lost their dignity and eroticism, and finally before they lost their lands.

But things did not always go so well in ancient cultures. As in the present world, then too there was hierarchy, poverty, disease, violence, and then too there were the rightless and the weak. Of course, the wielders of power were different. Instead of present day national and transnational capitalists (and intellectuals to legitimize their world) in previous eras they were the kings and warriors; that is, those who dominated others through force and the ideology of valor. Some in this world did very well, others not so well.

Continued Growth:

This discourse between the vision of modernity and the vision of a calmer, quieter and more simple past has been elegantly captured in the alternative futures work of James Dator. For Dator, there are a variety of cultural, political and economic future images that present themselves to us. The dominant global vision is that of “Continued Growth”; the goal is more goods and services and a better material life for all, especially the wealthy. In the US, the latest form has been trickle down theory, where the poor have been told that it does not matter if they lose their jobs, as corporate America must restructure itself so it can profitably compete in the world economy. That “modernity” has robbed these same unemployed of the cushions of the past, namely, the family, a local community, connection with nature, and a sense of the cosmos–is not relevant to the trickle down theorists. The blame of failure is laid on the individual, thus hiding the dark side of modernity, of capitalist development.

On the Pacific Rim front, the Continued Growth vision is ever present, but as Johan Galtung has written, a twist has occurred. Instead of America doing the growing, it is the Pacific Rim that is rapidly growing and changing. Thus, the global division of labor is now shifting in favor of the Rim region, particularly Japan, and creating the possibility of a new global culture (perhaps an Earth Inc. similar to Japan Inc.) within the context of capitalism a new formula for government/business, labor/capital, individual/collective, and religion/life. Yet the goal in this Pacific Shift, this Pacific Era, remain the same: the production of goods to satisfy the eternal hunger of the mind and heart.

But what will their culture be like once they are on the top of the world, once they see the rest of the world emulating the way they walk, the way they talk; once Chinese and Japanese females become the sexual fantasies of men all over the world (when the blond has become part of an old era, not bad, but not the real thing). Once (can we remember?) the dream was to walk the golden streets of London or New York–streets paved with gold, lined with opportunity and freedom: money and sex. How will the “Pacific Rim” react once Tokyo, Beijing or Singapore evoke dreams of gold? Will movements develop there that long for the good old days before the Japan and other assumed responsibility for the maintenance of the world system, before they believed it was their duty to educate the world as to the East Asia system? What will be the available visions of the future for those groups who no longer accept the vision, the legitimacy of the Pacific Century? Most likely the emergent antithesis to this future will be structurally similar to the present attempts of Americans searching for their past, although the content may be vastly different. Certainly, we can expect a rerun of militarism, fundamentalism, “back to nature” and a fear of technology. In addition, there will be a longing for a fixed past, one of discipline, hard work, and primary concern for the collective good, that is, to values that were believed to have been central in the economic and cultural rise of the Pacific Rim in the first place.

In the West, this desire for a predictable past has already emerged; it is still nascent in the East. Specifically, this vision evokes a time and space when the family was important, when there was a sense of community, before air travel took away one’s friends who one had hoped to know forever (death of course has perennially destroyed that hope!) and before capital from the core nations destroyed local economies.

Traditional Power Structures:

Of course, this image forgets the landlords. Pakistanis in their new cities, with their new wealth from the Middle-East, do not want to return to the village. They remember village culture very well. I, having spend most of my life in American, European and Asian cities, see village life differently, romantically. It is my 90 year old grandmother telling me about the love of Allah. It is she blessing me. It is fried bread in the morning, tea with milk in the evening, the sun gently setting, the stars rising, sleeping on the roof, and waking up together in the early morning, and feeling quietly, gently, unified with all other villagers, with the environment, with my people. And it is my cousins who still live there telling me: but you have luxury; you have sewage-free streets; you have air-conditioners; you have food in abundance; and you have travel, a life ripe with choices. It is also my father reminding me that when they grew up in the village, they had no doctors nor food. They idid have a landlord who routinely would go into the fields and rape any female he wanted. The police, judge and local council were all in the landlord’s pockets. This was the village culture that I knew little of; for me, the village was simply a symbol of the womb. For the rest, who have lived there village, life is something to leave behind, albeit hopefully without the loss of Allah and family.

Thus the tension between the present, the Continued Growth vision and the search for the past. Yet there is a possibility of a future that dialectically transcends the image of modernity and of the village past; it would have to be a dialectical development of those two cultural myths: the myth of continued growth, of technological progress, of travel, of choice–oral choice, in who one speaks to, who one kisses, what one eats–of a life with physical needs met. And the myth of a time when things were peaceful, when peripheries still had their own culture, their own categories of thought, before they were robbed in every way by the up and coming capitalists, when families still worked together and when God provided a certainty over the future. To me, both are incomplete stories, they both have their dark sides, neither one has been successful in creating a just world; neither the city nor village has sufficed.

Creating New Cultures:

So far we have looked at the vision of modernity and its various contradictions; exploitation of nature, workers, women, minority cultures, in general, the exploitation of the periphery within and without. We have also looked at its reactions: the search for a predictable past, with its dark side of fundamentalism and its light side of community and interconnectedness.

What then are the possibilities of a new future? It is not clear yet, but there are numerous movements and groups working to create just and authentic futures. These movements are not fixated in the past, nor are they solely concerned with capturing state power at the national level, rather they are primarily concerned with creating new discourses embedded in the values of ecological, spiritual and gender balance.

To become new stories, mythologies, these new movements must be able to deal with the desire for community and the need for personal choice and freedom of movement; with the desire for material goods and with the need to be connected to the infinite, an infinity that like the Zen moon is ever ancient and ever future utopian. The new mythologies must include the need to connect to nature and the need to be around the conveniences of modernity, the quick, the clean, and the efficient–bathrooms and computers! Moreover, these new visions of the future must also recognize the need to contribute to others and the need to be left alone, to not participate. New visions of the future must empower without power becoming oppressive. And finally new visions must articulate their own dark side, must construct polities that incorporate their own contradictions, that is, they must develop structures to counter what cultural historian William Irwin Thompson calls enantiodromia, the tendency for institutions and structures to become their opposite, to become what they are fighting against. To do this, these movements need to be aware that oppression exists in every age, and that while intellectual knowledge expands in every generation, wisdom often does not and each generation must learn the painful experiences of previous generations. This is the idea that revolutionary and reform movements have emerged before with mixed results and at times they have become the new oppressors.

The context for these new cultural forms is already in the creation process. We are witnessing a reconnection of science and mysticism such that the objective truth through the senses has been delegitimized as has the objective sense of personal truth as used by the priests of religion (from Christian television ministers in US, hindu Rajneesh from India, and to muslim ayatollahs in Iran). Mysticism must be accountable, it must be freely shared and it must have a criteria for evaluation, such as service to the poor, the hungry, the uneducated, the preturbed and disturbed, it must be a spirituality in society. Concommitantly, science must deal with the sacred, with awe and with the consequences of economic development and with epistemologies that forget, mythically speaking, the heart, and the feminine. Science must deal with its own intolerance for dissent, its own power structure.
Concretely, these movements include various self-reliant bioregional movements such as the Green movement as well as a comprehensive third world based movement called PROUT (the Progressive Utilization Theory).

This is a new vision developed by Indian philosopher, Sarkar. He envisions a world federation consisting of diverse cultures, where people are technologically advanced and spiritually developed. For him, the vision of technological development does not mean a loss of past cultures, rather it can free time for intellectual and spiritual development, that is, for the creation of new cultures and the dialectical synthesis of past and present. This technological development must be, however, in the context of a self-reliant cooperative economy (where workers are owners, where there exist income ceilings and floors, where contradictions between local and export production have been solved; an economy where the goal is equity and balance). PROUT evokes the ancient stories of the mystical, yet it does not fear the technological, the move to space or the genetic engineering creation abilities of humanity. However, Sarkar sees the key in the development of a spiritual culture; one that has a respect for nature, devotion to the Infinite; intuitional disciplines, a universal outlook and a desire to selflessly serve the poor and the oppressed. True development from this perspective is individual self-realization and the creation of society wherein individuals have their basic needs met so they can develop their potential.

Moreover, this potential must be met along side with the rights of animals nd the environment. In his Neo-Humanism: the liberation of Intellect, Sarkar develops a new model of development ethics that argues for a spiritual humanism that includes the environment and other forms of life. For Sarkar, the unnecessary slaughter of animals throughout the world is as irrational as the irrationality of the arms race.
But PROUT is more than simply a preferred future, a possible vision of tommorrow, it is also a viable strategy to transform the capitalist system. Throughout the world, PROUT people’s movements based on localism (local ties to the economy, culture, bioregion) have been initiated, as have numerous associations of intellectuals, workers, and peasants. Thus, PROUT is neither capitalist nor communistic, its economic structure is cooperative, its ethics are spiritual humanistic, its development model is global and local, and through its people’s movements, its vision is potentially attainable.

PROUT, of course, is only one effort, there are others who are creating new cultural futures. In the West, there exist the new age, feminist, environmental and peace movements. Even in established, historical civilizations, like Islam, we find the possibility of new cultures emerging. Ziauddin Sardar, a Muslim and a futurist, is attempting create a dialog among Muslims so as to reconstruct Islam and make it relevant and compelling for the postindustrial world of the 21st century. Sardar in his The Future of Muslim Civilization and Information and the Muslim World is excavating the richness of muslim scholarship. That he is a muslim, and not an infidel, gives him greater legitimacy, such that the mullahs will have to deal with this broadening of the Islamic discourse. Without this type of project, Islam will remain a tool for the holders of State power, the landlords and the military, without this dialog, a cultural renaissance in the muslim world will remain unlikely.

However, a spiritual socialism such as PROUT, a revisioned Islam, or a Green movement, is not what the post-industrial futurists had in mind when they spoke of the coming age of prosperity. The believers and deliverers of modernity had hoped that the new electronics technology would resolve the the problems of the present and the universal need for the intimate past; however, instead of the hoped for global electronic village wherein poverty had vanished, we have the alienation of the global city, or the Los Angelization of the planet. Instead of unity through humanity, we have unity through the logos of “Coca-Cola” and finally we have unity through our collective fear, that of nuclear war.

But let us hope for other futures. Let a thousand flowers blossom. I hope for a future where those in the periphery, Asians for instance, are not clamoring for a return to the good old days, rather they and others become the creators of new cultural myths, stories, such as PROUT and other individual and global projects.
However, the task of creating new cultures is difficult and lonely, for the the world system remains materialistic and capitalistic. To identify with no culture, nation-state and ever be awaiting the creation of new cultures means one is homeless, ever in dissent. Moreover, these new movements and individuals who are active in them tend to unsettle those of other cultures for they challenge the social order and make bare the empty slogans of nationalism, patriotism, and cultural superiority in the first, second and third worlds. Those in dissent include American and European yogis in Southeast Asia who through their sincerity, humility and wisdom challenge the notion of Asians that they have a monopoly of spiritual wisdom. Or of the Asian who has mastered the game of individuality yet remains a critic of the continued growth vision. Those in the Core, in the imperium, become particularly incensed when those of the periphery partake in the economic fruits of capitalism yet refuse to give it divine status.

Beyond Humans:

However, my hope is that these new cultural carriers, these new stories will be more than simply committed to a better world for humans, rather I envision new cultures emerging that see plants, animals and even robots as alive. Plants and animals must gain rights not for our sake as humans, or our future on this Earth, but for their sake, for their value, for they too are life. Robots as well will one day become alive, either through artificial intelligence or through the creation of new categories of perception once they live with us, help us make decisions, and become our friends.
Robotic technology as well as other high-tech technologies such as artificial procreation, collective run baby factories, new forms of genetic engineering will certainly create new cultural forms. The new stories of the future will have to include them in their holograms. At the same time, the spiritual technologies such as telepathy, mind travel will also have to be included. Their acceptance will, however, not come from the language of science, for spiritual technologies are based on the mind being at peace, open and spontaneous; the new spiritual technologies are not ones that the rational mind can control;, it is an outpouring, perhaps from the deeper levels of each individual mind, or from a greater intelligence, or from other beings and entities that we are unaware of yet. And neither outpourings nor extrasensory beings lend themselves easily to scientific proof.

These new cultural forms will certainly be severely challenged by the present dominant vision of Continued Growth as well as by various images of the past. They will not emerge, gain acceptance without a great deal of individual and group anguish–where is one’s place if one is not longing for streets of gold, nor books created by priests attempting to recreate eras when they were the guardians of epistemology. Too, the guardians of the Wall Street and other markets do not look kindly on efforts that will challenge the accumulation of capital. Nor do state bureaucracies like movements that do not fit into the logic of the five year development plan. Thus, the new cultures will be labeled escapist by some, simplistic by others, and as destroying Western and Eastern culture by most. But in the new emerging world, the future, for me at least, will be in the infinite and wherever my friends are, humans, plants, animals and robots, future and past, on earth and in space. I hope that new cultures will truly be like running streams, ever fresh, ever renewing themselves, and like river water, ever changing yet resilient, and ever aware of their own murkiness.

Cultural Categories and Sovereignty: Futures and Pasts of Hawaii (1988)

By Sohail Inayatullah

Cultures are often cannibalized when they adopt the categories of the foreign dominating culture. While colonialism is often seen as the capturing of lands and political power, far more intrusive is the imposition of epistemological categories–what is considered rational or real, for example.

The historical stages of colonialism are well known: economic exploitation (gaining monopoly rights of raw materials), imperialistic exploitation (using political and economic power to transform the local economy), political oppression (transforming
ethnic relations), and finally fascist exploitation (transforming traditional collectivities into nation states where then the foreign is constructed as the advanced and developed and the local the backward underdeveloped). It is the last phase that creates the context for cultural exploitation, creating the conditions for a cultural inferiority complex–the long term result is the shattering of the spine of the local culture.

Western colonialism has become universal through a three part process: (1) transforming traditional accounts of time (into linear developmentalist time), commodifying everything (transforming traditional social relations into exchange relations) and imposing a foreign language or culture.

To counter these forms of exploitation there are a range of appropriate strategies. First, economic democracy, where ownership is vested in those who provide labor, ideas and capital in the form of cooperatives for example (not just to those who provide capital). Second, revitalization of language. Third, the recovery of epistemological categories in which the local culture has historically known itself. Fourth, the creation of links with other oppressed movements and peoples, so as to create a local/global link. Fifth, a neo-humanistic ecological approach that is not based on geo-politics, race politics, or species politics but includes all that is.

While all these might be preferred strategies, most often cultural interaction between foreign and local are based on the categories of the dominant culture. Clearly, the historical and present interaction between Hawaiians and Westerners is based on the cultural and historical categories of the West. Interaction has come on their terms.

In the present sovereignty debate, for example, the contours of the debate are based on Western political theory. The idea of a constitutional convention (while perhaps appropriately participatory) forgets that it is a particular American invention divorced from Hawaiian history or from the unique blend of “local” culture. This form of representation based on election might not be the best way for Hawaiians to design their (constitutional) future. The idea as well that Hawaiian should collectively sit down and rationally develop policy statements as to what they want to do or be again forgets that many peoples do not choose (in the Western sense of the term) their epistemology or their constructions of the other–they live in a given historical relationship to the land or the transcendental. While Westerners may rationally choose their relations, it is not the same with other cultures. Who choose might indeed include the land and the transcendental, for instance. The idea of choice in this case itself becomes an imperialistic concept used to impose one’s own view of rationality, or knowledge.

What then are some Hawaiian, local or more appropriate ways to structure the debate, to create the future. If ho’oponopono, for example, is in fact a way to reach consensual agreement, to heal personal and social illness, to discern where the relationship has gone wrong, and who needs to be forgiven and what needs to be made right, then perhaps this model can be used to structure interaction with the various parties linked to sovereignty or independence. Or ho’oponopono could be revised to meet present social and political needs.

Even while cognizant of the dominance of neo-realist politics (self-interest at the individual and nation-state levels), we can still ask what traditional categories of governance can be reinvented to create an Hawaiian future. Besides ho’oponopono what other categories exist that can be used to attain freedom? What local forms of social and economic organization can revitalize Hawaii as the US core culture looses its legitimacy?

While sovereignty and independence are both laudable ideas, is sovereignty even possible in a world dominated by a Core, the West in present history? Moreover, is the idea of a sovereign nation-state in itself an imposition, useful only from a Westernized view. Should Hawaii and Hawaiians be seeking support from non-American institutions and agencies instead of debating with American institutions, that is attempting to find ways to link with the global community, even a world governance structure in the very long run. This is especially important for sovereignty, when achieved, will still be in the context of an unequal global division of labor where the opportunities for the recently sovereign (Africa and Asia) are far less then those that have been sovereign for hundreds of years. Thus, even if, or when, Hawaii does secede it will still exist in an international system that sees only states as real, denying the visions of social movements, of women, of the aina. Again as the experience of sovereignty for African and Asian nations has shown, gaining sovereignty is only the beginning of the battle, especially if the terms of sovereignty are framed in the language and categories of the dominant.

Finally, after centuries of subjugation, the periphery often has internalized the brutality of the oppressor. Once sovereign these same categories are used on one’s own people. Local culture colludes with the dominant Center power (the West or Japan) long after the colonialists have left we continue using their visions of the future, their ideas of history. Colonialism after all is a state of mind, that remains long after the colonialists have left.

To survive–epistemologically, culturally, economically–we have to use our own categories of thought. Western culture must struggle through these categories just as the Non-West has had to struggle through the categories of the West. We have to create our own forms of interaction recognizing that we have been made Other. We have to make links with others who have been colonized. We must also be careful that this duality not become internally oppressive.

In creating a future based on authentic ways of knowing, which categories should be used? Which are truly authentic? From which period of history can these be derived from? No culture is static (accept again in the context of imperialism when culture becomes custom, museumised or airportized), cultures are living, even reinventing themselves by resisting the dominant culture. Indeed,  instead of defining culture in the traditional Western sense of values and habits, perhaps culture is resistance. Resistance creates culture.

However, this collusion with the dominant cultures makes one multi-cultural since every moment is an encounter with a foreign culture and a remembrance of one own’s culture. Rethinking the relationship between local and global, these moments can eventually become the creation of a new planetary culture–one based on local understandings but planetary in the sense of an expanded we: living in Our home, for you and I and everybody else.

The Politics of the Dusty Plan (1986)

By Sohail Inayatullah

Futures Research Quarterly (Vol. 20, No. 4, 1986), 63-68

 

INTRODUCTION

Planning for the future in government or in business has never been a gratifying task. Planners are constantly frustrated in realizing their goals. Among other complaints, perhaps the most debilitating frustration is that plans are written and then simply discarded to lie on a shelf and gather dust. While the obvious reasons may be that the plan was poorly done, was too long, was weak in quantitative analysis, or was overly quantitative, the real reasons may in fact be the power relationships between the planner and the Chief Executive Officer and differences in how the plan and the planning process are perceived by the planner and the CEO.

Arnold Brown has argued in his article appropriately titled, “Everywhere Planners are in Pain.1” that the single most important determinate of a successful planning endeavor is not budget, method, or equipment but the relationship between the planner and the CEO. In the planning cycle, difficulties arise in the organizational relationship between the CEO and the planner, that is, there exists a difference in views between the planner’s perception and the CEO’s hope. Brown argues that there must be better lines of communication between the planner and the CEO.

THE POLITICS OF PLANNING

For Brown, the planner can reduce his pain by remembering that: “the planner’s role is to provide the means whereby the CEO can plan effectively,” that is, the planner as translator.2   To achieve this translation, most articles in the planning and futures literature present technical strategies: that is, they argue for the integration of the left and right brain, the use of common sense intuitive forecasts and strategies; for increased information through modeling or novel methodologies such as Delphi or Emerging Issues Analysis3.   While these may help the planner in writing a better plan–as judged the elegance of the plan itself–these methods have very little to do with the politics of planning, the implementation of the plan or the orga­nizational self-awareness that can emerge from a participatory planning process. It is often the case that “the Boss loved the plan, but nothing came out of it.” Planners remain unaware that the objectives of their plan may be ultimately different from that of the CEO or the organization itself.

However differences in objectives between planners and the CEO is not necessarily an idiosyncratic problem that planners have; rather, it is part of the politics of the planning process, part of the structure of organizations. It is this process that I wish to discuss and elabo­rate. Concretely, I wish to discuss the politics of the “dusty” plan.

For the planner, the plan is an expression of his or her vision. Although it includes ideas and suggestions of line personnel as well as top management, it is still the planner’s work. The planner hopes that through the plan his relationship will change from researcher (techni­cian) or implementer to advisor or co-decision-maker. Walter Blass has developed similar categories that describe this relationship. He talks of “planner as frustrated mechanic” and “planner as ever the bridesmaid,” and finally “planner as meddler or would be king.”

However, just as intellectuals and priests took away power from the monarchy, top executives fear planners will take away their power. And justifiably so. The planner certainly understands the organization at an operational and philosophical level. The planner also through the plan writing process learns about the organization’s history. Through this historical understanding, the planner is equipped to develop the orga­nization’s alternative futures. Writing of the plan gives power. In industrial culture, the written word is power. Words and language not only define the world, they create the world and given ownership of this creation to the writer. The planner thus can create history and future. This emphasis of the written word is especially true for planners trained in law.

Blass writes that “proximity to the seat of power must be handled with humility and reserve.4” However, even if this is done, the poli­tics of institutional and organizational relationships will force the CEO to make it clear that he is the planner, and the planner simply an articulator of his ideas. This is not an easy real-politik lesson to acknowledge. Nor is the realization that the best ways to see one’s ideas furthered is to gently include them in conversation such that the CEO thinks that they are his for such an act acknowledges the vertical structure of organizational power and the planners lowly place in this structure.

SYMBOLIC POLITICS

Beyond organizational power relationships, often the real purpose of the plan as perceived by the CEO and the planner may be quite differ­ent. The plan is a symbolic document. This is especially so in govern­mental agencies. The CEO may simply want to have a document to show a particular body–the state legislature, or a Federal funding agency, such as the LEAA in the criminal justice field, or even to stockholders in the private sector–that the institution has entered the world of modern management. A plan is symbolic of the effective use of resources. It is a way of saying, “yes we are doing something about x problem.” Agencies use plans to diffuse criticism: that is, “we are working on it.” Even in the private sector, where there is a clear motive for operations – profit – and a clear result if targets are not met (loss of market share) similar problems exist. Lack of relevance to immediate business problems is an excuse often used for a shelved plan. However, the intention of the plan from the view of the CEO may have been simply to impress the board of directors that modernity had been achieved. In both sectors, plans and planning are used to obscure deeper organizational problems.

POST-PLAN DEPRESSION

Thus for the organization, the plan itself, not its content, and especially not its implementation, is what is important. The planner, however, often sees the plan as an expression of his vision of the institution’s future, the plan becomes an extension of him or herself.   From the planner’s perspective, the plan is a vehicle of change, or organizational revitalization. For the CEO, it may be simply an ex­pression of prestige. Thus, when the plan is put on the shelf the planner is dismayed and enters “post-plan depression” . The CEO, of course, proudly displays the plan on his shelf. Where else should it go? His goal has been accomplished. Praise has been lavished. Funds received. Criticism diffused. The knighthood of modern management bestowed.

The CEO already has a way to do business, to make decisions, to understand the future. He already has a worldview, a set of priorities, and although he asked for the plan in the first place, it is certainly not because he wants his world restructured, reorganized or reprior­itized. He may simply want to decrease the uncertainty of the external socio-economic environment as well as manage various difficult to control internal programs and individuals.

Plans are symbolic. They evoke the future. They accomplish political motives. The Hawaii Judiciary, for example, has developed a reputation for excellence in planning largely due to its innovative comprehensive planning documents. However, while these are used by court planners all over the USA, the Hawaii Judiciary still has not implemented its plans, nor has it adopted a strategic plan. They purpose of the planning process, was, in retrospect, simple to further unify and centralize the courts and to justify future judicial growth.

Plans are also used within organizations by programs to increase their power or to articulate their vision. However, this too can be problematic. A plan developed for a local YMCA, although accurate, elegant and practical turned out to be useless. Since the Central YMCA was not interested in examining a plan from a lower level branch, it could not be operationalized at the local level, nor was the larger purpose of convincing the Central YMCA–that the YMCA’s market share and prestige as a premiere national and international volunteer association would continue to decline–realized. Thus, another dusty plan was added to the garbage heap of unused plans. Other experiences by colleagues in various state agencies have followed the same pattern. To gain Federal funding or assuage Legislative auditors a plan is written. Once writ­ten, it is shelved.

UNDERSTANDING THE PROCESS

However, a plan gathering dust does not mean that the plan failed, or that the planning process is worthless. Mere gesturing. Simply planners must see their work in the overall institutional, organization­al sense. Of course, occasionally, ideas and recommendations are followed through and implemented. But, even here, the language of implementation rarely acknowledges the source of the ideas, nor does it follow the logic of the plan. The planner does not become bride or chief advisor, he or she remains the frustrated technician.

For the planner to avoid post plan depression, he should understand the politics of the planning process, that is the motives of the orga­nization and the CEO and the respective role at the face and symbolic level of the key actors. However, to confront the CEO and argue that he or she simply wants the plan for symbolic reasons will not produce the desired results for the planner. The CEO will simply argue – and will believe it – that the plan is being written to be implemented. However, his definition of what constitutes implementation may differ from the planner’s. For the CEO, it is he who solves problems, the planner simply points to future problems to solve.

A WAY OUT?

To begin with, the planner must also see the writing of the plan and the political consensus building necessary for a plan to gain acceptance, as a process of organizational self-learning. The purpose of the plan, then becomes a vehicle for individuals to discover their role–or lack thereof–in the organization; for CEO’s to discern what really is going on in the organization. This process, however, often uncovers the organization’s dark side–the desire for empire building among lower level bureaucrats and the desire for organizational growth even when public–citizens and consumers–demand does not warrant such growth. Thus CEO’s, aware of the chaos and change that might occur when an organization is aware of its dark side, usually attempt to tightly control the planning process by only defining the goal of the planner as the production of a written plan or in a some similar technical and apolitical fashion.

Is there then a way out? Given the politics of organizations and their vertical power structures and the desire of humans to control others, to use plans and planning to expand the power and worldview of their own egos, probably not. The best the planner can do is understand the politics of who wants what and why on the conscious personal level and the unconscious institutional level. He could also simply leave the planner role, start his own business or government, and become King. Then he would have free reign to impose his or her vision or as the case often is, ego.

However, if living in the world of power, wealth, and ego is the central problem, then the planner in the fashion of the urban guerrilla can attempt to redesign the organization by creating more horizontal participatory structures. He or she could also, knowing that real people are suffering in bureaucracies or “in hell holes known as insti­tutions,”5 as in the case of the criminal justice or mental health system, become not a writer of plans but a political actor–a social activist or lobbyist. The planner then must redefine his or her role, organize and then convince decision-makers through information, confron­tation, debate, and compromise of his or her perspective hoping that the planning process will force organizational and individual self-awareness.

If this is not enough or too much, then the planner should work at political and spiritual transformation on a global and individual levels hitherto unheard of in human history. In the mean time, the planner can write the plan, and then, as he receives praise from top management and as the plan is shelved, he can in a yogic zen-like fashion watch the dust gather and smile. If none of these alternatives suffice then it may be wise to switch professions. However patho-bureaucracies and egos in search of power appear to be the rule in this world, not the excep­tion.

 

Notes

*        Sohail Inayatullah is senior policy analyst/futurist at the Office of the Administrative Director, the Hawaii Judiciary, PO Box 2560, Honolulu, Hawaii 96822. He also is planning consultant to Mid-Pacific Institute, a private school in Hawaii. The opinions expressed in this article are not necessarily shared by any organizations that the author is affiliated with.

  1. Arnold Brown, “Everywhere Planners are in Pain,” Long Range Planning, (Vol. 16, No. 3, 1983), p. 18-21.
  1. ibid. p. 19.
  1. See Geoffrey Fletcher, “Key Concepts in the Futures Perspective” World Future Society Bulletin (January-February, 1979), pp. 25-31.
  1. Walter Blass, “Ten Years of Business Planners,” Long Range Planning, (Vol. 16. No. 3, 1983), p. 21-24.
  1. Wayne Yasutomi, Development Disabilities planner. Personal communications sent to the author.