Viewpoint

Scientists Do Make Better Managers

There has been considerable discussion over the past five years or so concerning the managerial ability -- or lack thereof -- of scientists. Some years ago, Michael Pearson wrote an article called "Why Scientists Make Poor Managers", asserting that scientists usually perform poorly in a managerial role. Pearson says "as a rule, scientists do not make good managers. Inherently conservative ... they often find delegation and risk-taking paralysing".

He then went on to say that our educational policies produce scientists who are poorly qualified to cope with the hurly-burly of the marketplace. Therefore, Pearson suggests, they need to be trained (preferably at undergraduate level) in managerial techniques so that New Zealand's international competitiveness can be enhanced when the scientist swaps his or her lab coat for an executive suit.

To facilitate this, Pearson suggests incorporating core business topics into the traditional BSc, offering combined business and commerce qualifications, and providing the opportunities for honours and postgraduate papers in management.

I would argue that Pearson's argument is flawed on several counts. Apart from the fact that he fails to demonstrate a single instance in which a scientist newly promoted to "mahogany row" has proven to be a liability to a company, he fails to appreciate the way in which New Zealand's business culture has changed since the mid-1980s. What Pearson perceives as liabilities in a scientist-cum-executive are, in fact, virtues.

Pearson assumes that, given a bit of native talent, some training and enough enthusiasm, a scientist or anyone else can be made into a manager. The assumption here is that business or commerce can be conducted in an orderly fashion. In fact, running a business is similar to bringing up a family -- it's not an easy task and there is no "right" or "wrong" way. One must simply muddle through as best as one can, with varying degrees of success.

Even if the best training is provided, disasters occur. Witness what happened to Hugh Fletcher, a talented entrepreneur if ever there was one, when he purchased UK Paper. It was a mistake which cost Fletcher Challenge millions.

Up until the mid-1980s, New Zealand's businesses were run along rather staid, traditional lines. Scandals were infrequent, and generally one didn't brag about making money; we liked to think we were too egalitarian a society for that sort of carry-on. But then the change occurred, a change summed up by Bryan Gaynor in the Listener:

Right up until the 1980s, the New Zealand economy was like a good teenager. It lived at home, obeyed its parents and never smoke or drank. Then came the heady temptations of Rogernomics -- the kid left home, hung out with unsavoury foreigners and generally went hog wild. And then came the stock market crash, and the kid's had this terrible hangover ever since.

Gaynor goes on to say that we've learnt nothing from the Crash of '87 -- businesses continue to mislead shareholders, shady dealings continue, a number of high-flying lawyers have been prosecuted for embezzlement, and businesses continue to go bankrupt.

Many of these problems arise because entrepreneurs are willing to take unjustified risks, are willing to make decisions based on imperfect knowledge and, further, often ignore or overlook their best instincts in pursuit of the higher profit. I would suggest that a scientist on the board of directors, a scientist who dislikes risk-taking and delegating, would be a positive virtue. Such an influence would temper the worst excesses of remaining board members.

More than this, scientists have, by virtue of their training, much to contribute. A scientist's conservative streak is caused by the fact that they must probe beneath the surface of things and ask why certain processes do, or do not, occur. An entrepreneur, however, is only concerned with shuffling resources to bring about the provision of a service or a product and a healthy profit.

A well-trained scientist's intellectual rigour on the board could well turn out to be the straw that gives the brick its strength and the yeast that leavens the dough.

In his history of western philosophy, Bertrand Russell cites the delightful case of the philosopher Thales who was mocked by the well-of townsfolk for being unworldly, for not getting on in life. The philosopher turned the tables on his detractors by hiring all the olive presses during the off-season, then letting them out to the townspeople when the time came to press the olives.

Having demonstrated his ability to turn a tidy profit when he wanted to, Thales turned back to his preferred studies, which was gazing at the stars. Perhaps Pearson should take note!

Mike Hamblyn is currently a library manager in Dunedin.