Between a quarter and a third of companies in Britain, Europe and the
US use psychological tests when selecting staff, and the number is increasing.
A comprehensive test will cover all the basic dimensions of personality
and ability from which other behaviour patterns derive. Most tests, but
not all, tap into the five crucial facets of human personality: extroversion,
stability, tough-mindedness, conscientiousness, and being open to new experience.
Psychometricians have devised tests which are empirically based on proven
theoretical foundations. Many tests are backed by a wealth of studies that
demonstrate how personality/ability scores relate to occupational behaviour.

However, many academic psychologists remain sceptical about the ability
of personality tests to predict an individual’s suitability for a particular
job. These tests, supposedly measuring many facets of the person, have never
been properly validated against the way people actually behave.

The main problem lies in the fact that is very easy to devise a personality
test. Indeed, many women’s magazines carry tests of ‘Are you a demon or
a dodo under the duvet’ that are great fun. But there is no evidence whatsoever
that they are valid, that is, they measure what they say they are measuring.
It is too easy to find out what sort of test the client wants and give it
to them while ignoring its poor psychometric properties.

A little of this scepticism – even cynicism – has rubbed off on personnel
executives, but many of them remain eager to buy and apply such tests. It
is not difficult to see why. Establishing an accurate, fair and sensitive
process for selecting staff is far from easy, and everyone has experienced
the awkward, or inadequate, or lazy, or irresponsible, or inefficient colleague
whom somebody selected and nobody can sack.

Thus tests can be used specifically to select out, rather than select
in – to warn about people who may prove problematic, rather than highlight
potential high-flyers. Indeed, many selectors therefore use tests to warn
about people who may prove problematic, rather than highlight potential
high-flyers. It is difficult to obtain all relevant information about people,
compare them with others and guess their future success merely by referring
to CVs and interviewing them. Personality tests are apparently scientific,
and seem to provide useful material on a whole range of personality traits.

On the other hand, there are those who believe that sufficient experience
and a modicum of common sense are all that is needed to select the right
person. Just as intelligence tests do not measure intelligence, they might
argue, so personality tests can hardly measure something as complex, subtle
and varied as personality. After all, people have one thing in common –
they are all different; so some find it offensive to reduce people to sets
of 16 numbers on a computer-generated profile.

As more personality tests come onto the market, cynics have had to
rehearse their arguments more frequently. A major objection is that many
of these tests can be faked. People may lie to show themselves off in a
good light and to achieve high scores. Though partly justified, this objection
can be dealt with by including lie scales or measuring a subject’s response
against the profiles of known liars.

Another objection is that some people do not have enough self-insight
to report on their own feelings and behaviour. They cannot give accurate
answers about themselves even if they want to. We all know the colleague
who believes in his or her own intelligence or sense of humour when no
such attributes are apparent to anyone else. Critics also claim that factors
such as anxiety, boredom, weariness or ill-health can lead people to give
different answers on different occasions, but in fact this is not a major
weakness of psychological tests. It is fairly easy to demonstrate that tests
yield similar scores when done on different occasions.

By far the most impor-tant criticism is that tests do not measure what
they purport to measure, and do not predict a person’s performance after
they are appointed. Many tests are lamentably lacking in any proof of their
validity, and so are open to attack on this count. This is by far the most
important criticism and is often fair. Validating a test is a lengthy and
expensive business, and few are prepared to put in the effort to collect
the data that are needed to prove a test valid.

Many managers who admit that tests might adequately measure certain
dimensions of behaviour, complain that they fail to assess those that are
crucial to the organisation. Buying personality tests is like settling
for a set menu; what many managers want is testing a la carte that offers
them assessment of traits such as trustworthiness and likelihood of absenteeism.
But the attributes they want to test for are often not psychological concepts,
and can be notoriously difficult to measure accurately.

To perform well in the tests, people have to be reasonably literate
or articulate, and it often helps if they are familiar with American jargon.
Many organisations believe, quite correctly, that their workforce could
not do the tests properly, or that they would take up too much time or would
cause embarrassment.

Another criticism is that there are no good and relevant norms – at
least for the populations companies want to test; comparing them with North
American samples, mostly white undergraduates, is dangerously misleading.
That is, there are no benchmark statistics against which to measure employees,
so we don’t know whether the score on a test is above or below or about
average. Many tests are the product of middle-class, middle-brow, middle-aged,
middle Americans and may not be appropriate for people from other groups,
leading to the charge that personality tests are biased in favour of the
white, middle-class males. In Britain, the Commission for Racial Equality
is sceptical about testing.

Interpretation of the tests takes skill, insight and experience which
may be too expensive or not available. In the wrong hands, tests are dangerous
because profiles are given inaccurate or too literal interpretations. Organisations
can become dependent on consultants, which is an expensive addiction. On
the other hand, courses are extremely expensive and are only for one test
at a time. Furthermore, freedom of information legislation may mean that
candidates can see and perhaps challenge the scores themselves, the way
scores are interpreted or the decisions made on them. This may lead to extreme
embarrassment or, worse, litigation.

Finally, as tests of both ability and personality becomes well known,
people could buy copies and practise so that they know the correct or most
desirable answers. This happens extensively with ability testing in the
US, and the results can be seen to have more to do with preparation and
practice than actual ability. Some milk-round applicants tell you they have
done the same rather dreary tests half a dozen times and thanks to receiving
feedback on them they can now fake them perfectly.

Valid though these criticisms may be in some instances, a strong case
for testing remains. Tests provide numerical information that allows individuals
to be compared fairly. In interviews, different candidates may be asked
different questions, and the interviewers can easily forget the answers.
Written descriptions of candidates are too vague and depend too much on
the linguistic skills of the writer.

By contrast, testing is an empirical, scientific operation. Few sciences
rely on verbal descriptions; numbers are more accurate. Anyone tempted to
attack tests for lack of predictiveness should look at studies of the formal
interview, which demonstrate that it is virtually worthless as a method
of selecting staff. Data-based tests of successful candidates can be kept
on file, and compared with their subsequent performance. Some organisations
have 30 years of data, and know exactly which scales do and don’t predict
things like absenteeism or being a ‘fast-tracker’.

Where conventional references provide only coded platitudes on temperament
and ability, psychological tests give explicit and specific results. A percentage
score achieved in a properly validated test makes for much clearer thinking
about personal characteristics than terms such as ‘satisfactory’, ‘sufficient’,
or ‘high-flyer’.

For some it is counterintuitive to argue that tests are fair because
they eliminate corruption and stop favouritism or old boy, Freemason or
Oxbridge networks from self-perpetuating. That is, if a person does not
have the ability, or has a ‘dangerous’ profile, he or she will not be chosen
irrespective of their other ‘assets’, such as colour or attractiveness.
This, in fact, turns the discrimination argument on its head by arguing
that empirical assessment is best.

The trick, of course, is to know which tests to choose. ‘Human resource
managers’, as they are now called, are, alas, all too frequently poorly
trained in psychometrics. Expertise in the art and science of testing doesn’t
come cheap, but without it companies risk being swayed by smooth talk and
glossy brochures.

Adrian Furnham is professor of psychology at University College London.

Perhaps the greatest testimony to the speed of technical innovation
in the latter decades of the 20th century is the piles of redundant computers,
many barely three years old, relegated to cupboards and store rooms. Computers
on the market are soon replaced by smaller, even more powerful, colourful
and user-friendly models.

High-tech equipment, once the preserve of the rich or simply dotty,
is everywhere – the office, the kitchen, the bedroom and the car. International
comparisons show that despite their proclaimed love of tradition and natural
conservatism, the British are relatively quick on the uptake when it comes
to accepting new technology. But what determines the uptake? Which type
of person gets in first and why? And who are those souls who have to be
dragged kicking and screaming into the 20th century?

There are various ways of distinguishing between styles of adapting
to change. For example, we can divide the world into the more conforming
and conservative types who try for well-established solutions to technical
problems and those who prefer to try to do things differently – to define
the problem and its solution in novel ways. The former prefer gradual, adaptive,
step-by-step change, the latter dramatic, highly innovative and alternative
solutions. This is not to mention those who refuse to come to terms with
the necessity of change at all.

More important to manufacturers, though, is knowing how to encourage
people to adopt a new innovation. Success depends on developing a marketing
strategy which entices the reticent on the one hand while satisfying those
who thirst for new products on the other.

My advice to anyone about to launch a new technology is to look at how
a new innovation diffuses through the populace. For the pattern of diffusion
follows an S-shaped curve. That is, a slow uptake, initially by only a few,
followed by a fast, steep increase as the idea or product takes off. The
curve flattens again when the market becomes saturated or the idea ‘old
hat’. And it seems to contain five clear groups of individuals.

The first are the ‘innovators’. These are individuals who are always
seeking to innovate or try out new ideas or equipment. They come in many
shapes or forms: the Clive Sinclair type of innovating genius; the adult
who, deprived of a train set as a child, has been compensating ever since;
the socially inadequate technophile who prefers electricity to interaction.

Innovators are likely to scour the pages of specialist magazines for
new equipment, or may even try building it themselves. They had CDs, computers,
microwaves and faxes long before most people even knew what they were. Some
may be innovation junkies who go for anything new and different, irrespective
of its quality, usefulness or design. Others like to improve on current
ideas and techniques.

The next group, the ‘early adopters’, are at the beginning of the steep
climb of the S curve. Early adopters take little or no persuasion to be
among the first of the populace to buy an innovative product. All they have
to be told is that there is new equipment which is faster, smarter or more
elegant than theirs, and they want it. They are ideal types for the advertiser
because one mention of the product is sufficient to spur them to buy.

As the diffusion of innovation occurs and the new phenomenon becomes
recognised, the ‘early majority’ begin to take an interest. These need to
be sold the idea – persuaded to buy. A little sceptical and a little cautious,
the early majority are good candidates for adopting innovation, but need
some convincing. This is the midpoint on the diffusion curve and includes
the bulk of the population. By now, the product or the idea will appear
in the media and in shops more widely and the new ‘thing’ appears to be
everywhere.

When it comes to the ‘late majority’, it is time for the hard sell.
Scepticism has turned to cynicism, and the late majority are likely to demand
that the benefits of the innovation are proved to them. Like all of us,
they have probably bought some new ideas or products which proved pretty
useless or unreliable; but they have not forgotten it. For them, a cupboard
of unused gizmos is an unwelcome reminder of previous purchasing imprudence.

Others in this group hold the view that the later one adopts an innovation,
the cheaper it is and the more reliable. The pocket calculator is one example
among many of this, and such examples persuade the late majority to be cautious;
perhaps too cautious for the advertiser.

Finally, at the point where the curve flattens out, come the ‘laggards’.
Like innovators, they come in different forms: the technophobe, petrified
of anything not simple and mechanical; the young fogey who rejoices in the
quill pen over the computer; the ultra-cautious who hates learning anything
new. They all share a fear and hostility towards innovation. For employers,
the only way to make them adopt new technology or systems is to ban or physically
remove old equipment. There are few easy ways of persuading the laggard.
Advertising the benefits of an innovation is a waste of time for this group.

For manufacturers, there are three problems to overcome in the diffusion
of innovation. First, they have to segment their market and be able to identify
the demographic, geographic and lifestyle correlates of the five types.
Next, they have either to change their marketing strategy as the innovation
moves up the S curve or, from the outset, draw up a marketing plan that
specifically targets these different groups. But the third problem is the
greatest of all. This is that when they have persuaded even the laggards
to adopt their innovation, they must have a new product up their sleeve
ready to start all over again.

Adrian Furnham is head of the Business Psychology Unit at University
College London.

The fiasco of the Maxwell pension fund, the debacle of Ernest Saunders
and Guinness, and the ongoing saga of Asil Nadir and the Polly Peck organisation
have all provided rich pickings for the gossip columnists and pulp biographers.
And people interested in current morals and ethics have been busy debating
the issues.

Business ethics is one of the current darlings of the politically correct.
Essentially, it is the app-lication of ethics to business issues. As such,
it isn’t a particular brand of ethics. Some organisations run in-house courses
on the topic, while others establish tell-tale telephone numbers so that
employees can confidentially report on unethical activities. Hence a moralistic
McCarthyism seems to be spreading around corporate bodies.

As a response to the current fascination with business ethics, academics
run seminars, debate case histories and even dream up tests of moral maturity.
Many write thought-pieces in magazines and some help to set up learned journals
like the Journal of Business Ethics. A few distinguished universities have
even established special chairs and fellowships. As a result, a so-called
discipline of business ethics appears to have achieved respectability.

Ethics used to be mainly the concern of philosophers and theologians.
Some ethicists are now venturing forth from their cobwebbed offices, bringing
their learned abstract studies into the bright lights and generous, fee-paying
world of the business seminar. Trying to apply Aristotelian ethics to mergers
and acquisitions maybe sets something of a problem, but this is nonetheless
a growth industry.

Of course, medical ethics and research ethics have existed for some
time. All medical and behavioural scientists are regularly required to
subject their research proposals to the scrutiny of an ethics committee.
The same might soon become the lot of the entrepreneur, even the management
consultant. Imagine taking every takeover bid, every marketing proposal,
indeed each hiring and firing decision, to the in-house ethics committee
for approval. In a sense we do: many decisions have to be passed by various
regulatory bodies which have a quasi-ethical remit. Indeed, some business
issues are so over-controlled, regulated and monitored that there hardly
seems any point debating the topics further.

Why do we have ethics committees charged with making these decisions?
Why can’t trained individuals do it? What training skills or knowledge does
one need to be on these committees?

If, indeed, there are a set of agreed ethical principles to follow,
why do we need a committee to puzzle them out? A job-creation scheme for
the moral majority perhaps? There are various ethical codes: some absolutist,
other relativist, some high and some low on idealism. Thus I could mention
the radical relativist ethics, called situation ethics, of the American
academic John Fletcher in his Situations Ethics and Moral Responsibilities,
or the more austere, retributive or absolutist ethics of the Church fathers
or Muslim clerics. One might ask a trained ethicist or philosopher to fathom
out how to apply these abstract ethical principles to everyday business
situations, instead of a jury-type collection of the great and the good.

The real reason committees are used, of course, is to diffuse responsibility.
No one person – or perhaps one moral code – can personally be held responsible.

A second reason for an ethics committee concerns that bane of American
social and corporate life litigation. Many ethics committees are about
‘cover-your-arse’ attempts to prevent, circumvent or mitigate law suits.
If this is true, then the ethical committee should be replaced by (and renamed)
a litigation inquiry.

Rather than waste time by simply getting what are called ‘feel-good’
points, a company should first decide on a set of ethical principles (many
exist), appoint an expert ethicist to decipher and apply them, and find
a sharp litigation lawyer to assist him/her. Large groups of well-meaning
busybodies just won’t do.

It has been said that if you are guilty, choose to be judged by a jury;
if innocent, choose a judge and two assessors. The reason is obvious – juries
are more likely to make mistakes and be swayed by sweet-talking but obfuscating
lawyers. But judges who are trained and experienced are more likely to dispense
true justice. If one is guilty, one has a better chance of acquittal through
the jury making a mistake; if one is innocent, a judge is less likely to
be wrong.

The amateur business ethics committee, rather than being flavour of
the month, has reached its sell-by date.

Adrian Furnham is professor of psychology at University College London,
and a sometime student of divinity.

Despite more than a decade of Thatcherism with its bourgeois meritocratic
values, we still hear the lament that the work ethic, which once made Britain
great, ‘the workshop of the world’, has declined, even died. Socialism and
hedonism, cynics claim, have destroyed the motivation of the British, punished
their hard workers – through taxation and state hand-outs to the indolent
– and sapped the energies of their young people.

Is there any evidence that the work ethic is alive and well in Britain
in the 1990s? One obvious sign is the mania for DIY. Everywhere you look
there are superstores and megastores, and magazines and manuals dedicated
to DIY. These are the modern-day equivalents of those Victorian values of
self-help and self-improvement, industry and thrift. Interestingly, Self
Help – a book popular in the 19th century and written by that champion of
material progress based on individual enterprise and free trade, Samuel
Smiles – has recently been reprinted with a foreword by Keith Joseph,
guru of the ‘market’ concept in Thatcherite policies.

Then there is the active belief in self-sufficiency and the ‘good life’.
Green values are deeply self-sufficient, but it is not just Greens who aspire
to this. All sorts of people are leaving their jobs to become consultants,
independent and self-sufficient.

The obsession with the management of time is today’s equivalent of the
Victorian assertion that time is money. It shows not only through people’s
attitudes but also their possessions. They attend courses on the subject
and buy overpriced diaries. Their watches have alarms and ping on the hour.
They are some of the most time-conscious people of all time. Filofax might
be passe but the principle that they engendered is still with us in the
1990s.

The age of hedonism is being ushered out by a new era of temperance.
Smoking has long been out of fashion for health reasons and on aesthetic
grounds. Sex – recreational, premarital and even marital – is now dubious
because of AIDS. Swigging alcohol has been replaced by the swilling of
French fizzy water which is almost as expensive. Real meat looks as if it
will be next, and coffee after that.

Young upwardly mobile professionals first began to flaunt their wealth
in the 1980s. Even in the recessionary years of the 1990s, people are not
expected to be reticent about having made it – look at any advertisement
for men’s products (jewellery, aftershave, shoes and so on). ‘Win them
and wear them,’ as Jimmy Saville says of medals. Success is sexy.

Not so long ago, the British reserved their admiration for successful
amateurs – people with natural ability and curiosity but no formal training,
such as Patrick Moore and Clive Sinclair, who apparently effortlessly succeed
at various tasks. Now their admiration is for the workaholic – indeed, it
might even be a requirement for certain jobs. The job comes first. And yet,
people are increasingly turning play into work. Leisure is serious, and
play means taking part in sport, with its values of self-discipline, diligence,
competitiveness, success and teamwork. In this ethos, relaxation and refreshment
are but idleness; free time and spare time have to be used profitably.

Not only do these various fads and fashions support the tenet that work
is alive, well and living in Britain, but public opinion surveys, whether
national or international, large and small, report that well over three-quarters
of adults would work even if there were no financial need. Real work, it
seems, is more than just earning a living, and many people claim that they
would do the best work possible regardless of pay. They do not believe that
work is merely the price that you pay for a salary.

But is there any evidence of the work ethic among the young? In a recent
study, Barrie Gunter and I asked 2000 young Britons questions that tap into
the essence of the work ethic (the survey is detailed in the book The Anatomy
of Adolescence). We did this in 1989 just before the onset of the current
recession. Nearly two-thirds of the 15 and 16-year-olds agreed that ‘hard
work makes someone a better person’. And the majority agreed that ‘wasting
time is as bad as wasting money’ and ‘a good indication of a person’s worth
is how well they do their job’. Despite all the warnings about the many
cardinal sins of young people, especially indolence and sloth, they still
appear to believe in the work ethic.

Adrian Furnham is professor of psychology at University College London
and author of The Protestant Work Ethic (Routledge).

The same is true in organisations. The financial director does not
work out profit and loss accounts; the marketing director does not attend
brainstorming sessions; and the engineering director is unlikely to get
his hands dirty. Their job is to make sure that others perform the task:
that is, to manage. As everyone knows, promotion means more management,
administration and delegation of responsibilities, and less hands-on work.

To some, the skills of management – understanding, challenging and
supporting staff – come easily. But what of the technical specialist, who
is often introverted and uncomfortable with the ‘soft’ intuitive skills
of general management?

There are essentially two responses to the dilemma of whether to promote
the technical expert to a manager. Some organisations agree that boffins
are most comfortable, and ultimately most cost-effective, when they are
using their technical skills. To train them to be managers is not to ‘release’
them to do other work, but rather to ‘imprison’ them in a job they hate,
even despise. So, some organisations have a two-track policy. In this binary
world, boffins can grow more senior without strictly becoming managers.
They do what they are good at, what they like doing, and what the organisation
first lured them for, but at more senior levels of pay and job title.
And in the usual sense of the word they are not managers.

However, most organisations believe that even the most unpromising
intellectual, the socially unskilled scientist, or inadequate technician
can be turned into a competent manager. But those people who may get promotion
usually have to meet a number of criteria.

First, the candidates need to desire to be managers. They must believe
that managing people is interesting, stimulating and, more importantly,
a skill. They must also understand that acquiring these skills requires
considerable time and effort on their part, and that the skills need to
be practised and polished.

Candidates should have a minimal level of communication skills. They
must feel at ease communicating with people in all branches of the organisation,
at any level. They must learn how to negotiate, influence, liaise and simply
‘make friends’.

They must also be able to develop an overview of the whole business.
That is, they must understand technological trends, applications of products,
markets and the economic conditions of the business unit. More importantly,
perhaps, they need to be able to communicate with technical colleagues from
other disciplines and to work as part of a management team.

Moreover, they need to be administratively competent: every manager
must be familiar with basic skills such as planning, scheduling, budgeting,
organising and negotiating resources.

Most importantly, managers must have business acumen. That is, good
managers need to feel comfortable working in dynamic environments associated
with uncertainty and change. They must be good at directing the activities
of their departments toward the overall business objectives of the company.

Personal desire alone is not enough to make a good manager. Candidates
need to be competent in their current assignments. They should also have
the capacity to take on greater responsibility. And the manager’s ambitions,
desires and capabilities need to fit in with the current (and long-range)
requirements of the organisation. Finally, perhaps most important, they
need to have the aptitude for management.

Can these various skills be trained? Most people would agree that some
can be relatively easily acquired, especially certain aspects of business
knowledge. Business courses lasting five weeks on topics such as marketing,
accounting and economics can do wonders for the bright scientist. But can
good administrative habits be acquired? With an efficient and sensitive
personal assistant, who might be the power behind the throne, the answer
is yes. But what about temperament? Can the nervous introvert, who is more
at home with books, computers and technology, be turned into the gregarious
extrovert now required to manage workers effectively? The answer is yes,
but with difficulty and at a cost. A good analogy is speaking a foreign
language: one can learn to become pretty fluent but one still has an accent
and it is tiring to practise because of the concentration needed.

Like everything else, learning to become a good manager takes effort
and ability, and perhaps most of all, the energy, tenacity and fortitude
to acquire the skills. But as all therapists say, only those who really
want to change get better.

Adrian Furnham is professor of psychology and head of the Business Psychology
Unit at University College London.

Brainstorming is used most frequently to generate as many solutions
to a particular problem as possible. The product of a brainstorming session
is ideally a wide range of possible options or solutions to a problem which
can be presented to a third party qualified to pick the best one. The basic
assumption is that ‘two heads are better than one’ and that groups of people
can find innovative solutions. But does brainstorming work?

Groups, of course, have the potential to pool their resources and combine
their knowledge to generate a wide variety of approaches to problems. However,
for these benefits to be realised group members must have the necessary
knowledge and skills to contribute to the group’s task. In short, two heads
are better than one provided neither of them is a blockhead. The ‘pooling
of ignorance’ helps no one.

The rules of brainstorming are quite simple. The first is ‘freewheeling’.
Participants are encouraged to be different, to break the mould, to be over-inclusive
and allow any crazy idea or association into the solution. Self-censorship
is discouraged and nothing is unacceptable.

The second rule is no criticism. In order to encourage the near-psychotic
association of wild ideas, the participants should not be put off by the
disapproval of others. Neither the sotto voce hiss nor the raised eyebrow
is tolerated because these are off-putting to producers of ideas. At this
stage, all ideas are equally valuable.

The third rule is that piggybacking is OK. This means that it is quite
acceptable to jump on the back of others; to run with their ideas and to
follow someone down an unusual path. Indeed, this is precisely why this
activity is group oriented. Brainstorming supposedly provides stimulation
for ideas and encourages synergy. But does it? In all circumstances? The
evidence suggests that group-working might not always be the best stimulus
to creativity.

Imagine yourself working on a problem that requires several very specific
steps and has a definite right or wrong answer, such as an arithmetic problem
or an anagram puzzle. Would you expect the individual or the group to perform
better on such a well-structured task? Research indicates that groups performing
well-structured tasks tend to make better, more accurate decisions but take
more time to reach them than individuals. In one study, subjects worked
either individually or in groups of five on several well-structured problems.
The researchers compared the accuracy – the number of problems solved correctly
– and speed – the time it took to solve the problems – of groups and individuals.
They found that the average accuracy of groups of five was greater than
the average accuracy of five individuals working alone. However, the researchers
also found that groups were substantially slower (as much as 40 per cent)
than individuals in reaching the best solutions.

But most of the problems faced by organisations are not well structured.
They do not have any obvious steps or parts, and there is no obviously right
or wrong answer. Creative thinking is required to make decisions on poorly
structured tasks. For example, a company deciding how to use a new chemical
in its consumer products faces a poorly structured task. Although you might
expect that the complexity of such creative problems would give groups a
natural advantage, this is not so. In fact, research has shown that on poorly
structured, creative tasks, individuals perform better than groups. Specifically,
subjects in one study were given 35 minutes to consider the consequences
of everybody suddenly going blind. Comparisons were made of the number of
ideas/issues/outcomes generated by groups of four or seven people and a
like number of individuals working on the same problem alone. Individuals
were far more productive than groups and arrived at their solutions much
faster.

A recent study has also demonstrated the relative ineffectiveness of
brainstorming groups in which the subjects, practising managers and management
trainees, worked on a fictitious problem involving survival on the Moon.
Participants were asked to imagine that they have crashlanded on the Moon
200 miles from their base. They were then asked to rank, in order of importance
to their survival, the 15 pieces of equipment they need to have intact.
The study revealed that the quality of decisions made by interacting groups
was only as good as the best individual member of the groups. In another
study using this same problem, the investigators found that the contributions
of the most qualified group members had to count most heavily in the group’s
decisions, in order for the group to derive the benefits of the presence
of that member.

Thus what the research seems to indicate runs counter to what many people
believe. Most brainstorming is used by creative organisations which care
little about the skill composition of the problem-solving groups confronted
with poorly structured tasks such as thinking up the name for a new product.
In other words, brainstorming is often used when it is least effective,
and probably rarely when it is most effective.

I wonder how brainstorming translates into other languages. For a non-native
speaker it may suggest an epileptic fit or a splitting headache. Certainly,
for some people, the experience of this activity to solve a creative, open-ended
task leads to a migraine. The irony of brainstorming is that it is most
frequently used where research suggests it is least effective. Let’s individually
find a solution to that!

Adrian Furnham is professor of psychology and head of the Business
Psychology Unit at University College London.

The basic differences lie in the spirit and aim of the two enterprises.
These are nicely reflected in the difference between the terms ‘teach’ and
‘train’. On most academic courses, students are taught theory, first principles
and abstract understanding. Their often unworldly dons are concerned that
they understand not only the background but also the theory behind what
they are learning, be it anthropology or anatomy, physics or physiology,
education or economics. The learning is frequently abstract without any
obvious purpose except to deepen understanding.

For managers the training is nearly always practical and concrete. The
gritty, sensibleness of most of the courses echo a ‘cut-the-crap’ (pace
Gerald Ratner) utilitarianism. Background details, historical origins and
theoretical models give way to practical understanding and doing-skills.
‘Training effectiveness’ is the speed by which people can acquire and practice
relevant skills, not the extent to which they understand theoretical concepts.

Teaching students, even in applied courses, remains independent of context
in the sense that they are rarely taught for a specific place, time or operation.
So abstract concepts are most useful because they cross boundaries easily.
Doctors, dentists, accountants and even lawyers may take their skills and
practice in a multitude of contexts. But managers are trained with a specific
context in mind. They learn the house style, using the unique house concepts
and language.

The time frame of the teaching and the contents may differ. Academics
tend to take a longer view of things. They are unused to being rushed, know
few deadlines and are hence very tolerant of students who fail to get work
done on time. The time taken to complete a task is rarely a measure of success,
except in examinations. Great work takes time; ideas have to mature. Compare
the time-obsessed manager, newly returned from a ‘just-in-time’ lecture.
Managers tell you that they live in flux and the world is a capricious,
ever-changing place. Hence the shelf life of ideas and methods is short
and training must be for the here and now. Therefore, they aim to gain skills
and ideas as quickly as possible. Trainers use topical examples, are conscious
of fashion and like to boast that their ideas and technology are state of
the art.

Students are given reading lists, library cards and shown where the
laboratory, computer and language centres are. They are then expected to
be disciplined, self-starters who seek out more or better resources when
provided with the minimum. Management trainees expect to receive all they
need for the topic because time is short, and it is considered the job of
the trainers to compile literature and materials. This is one reason that
in-house adult training is so expensive. Sophisticated materials and up-to-date
technology is available for those who are trained, not those who are taught!

Academics are cautious, critical and sceptical. They use the word ‘perhaps’
a lot. Their research papers are titled ‘towards an understanding of . .
. ‘ They take a long time to be convinced of things and are trained to question.
This tone is reflected in the teaching. Students have literary criticism;
managers literary appreciation. (Only theologians are taught apologetics
– others get criticism.) Students are encouraged to be intellectually phlegmatic,
muted in their enthusiasm like their dons. Trainers, on the other hand,
are rewarded for high levels of enthusiasm and certainty. Their models,
the ‘gurus’, know the answers, are certain about the solution, believe in
the theory. They persuade by personal conviction, as in a religious convertion.
Criticism, positive or negative, is not encouraged. Students are taught
verbally. Diagrams, formulae and charts are often used merely to summarise
and illustrate. Academics try to understand the process or mechanism which
may or may not be open to illustration. Bullet points are mainly used as
shorthand. But the medium, like the message is verbal and abstract, too
complex and subtle for easily comprehensible slides.

Trainers, on the other hand, often rely on elaborate, multicoloured
slides picturing various boxes, connected by lines. How and why things are
categorised in a particular way is rarely spelt out. Models or charts simplify,
categorise, or make facts easy to remember. Sometimes trainers use amusing
terms to help the memory and because they know that evaluation scores given
after the course are closely examined.

Pilots talk of bad flying as all thrust and no rudder, and driving instructors
of bad pupils as all accelerator and no gears. By this they attempt to distinguish
between the expert and the novice. Another occasionally used pejorative
remark is all style and no content. Often academic lectures are excellent
in content but delivered in a dry, unappealing, or off-putting style. Too
often undergraduates are forced to listen to monotonous lectures with little
structure, pace or contrast. The content may be brilliant but the delivery
spoilt by an unsophisticated style.

By contrast, some management trainers have a polished, modern sophisticated
style. Slides, videos, even role-plays are carefully prepared, and thoughtfully
ordered. There is variety, amusing stories and a good pace – often at the
expense of the content. Just as the popular (tabloid) media favour attractive
presentation over sophistication of ideas and the broad sheets good analysis
instead of easy reading, so the trainer prefers ‘access’ and the teacher
‘c´Ç³¾±è°ù±ð³ó±ð²Ô²õ¾±±¹±ð²Ô±ð²õ²õ’.

In short, at university, students study the process of learning and
argument as much as the subject matter. The essence of British university
education is that it provides a set of abstract rules and understanding
which can be applied to many situations. American universities are more
sensitive to market trends. As a consequence, they tend to teach more in
the management training style.

But in my experience the movement from one world to the other is neither
common nor easy. The corduroyed don may not find it easy to supplement his
meagre stipend at training courses. Equally the pin-striped trainer may
not easily acquire the cachet he or she hopes by teaching at the local university.
The skills, style and outlook of these two activities sometimes clash dramatically
and one is forced to take sides. And, like the lay conception of schizophrenics,
I am in two minds about who is right.

Adrian Furnham is the reader in psychology and head of the Business
Psychology Unit at University College London.

While academic engineers, architects, medics, lawyers and the like have
always acted as consultants – indeed their very job depends on practising
their expertise – people in other disciplines, particularly in the arts,
humanities and social sciences, have only recently ventured to package and
sell their skills.

Some disciplines have been more successful than others. Anthropologists,
who now outnumber the remote tribal people whose ceremonies they record
on video, have found that companies, too, have cultures, and happily apply
their concepts to large multinationals. English and history donssometimes
do well-paid reviews and regular columns for the quality press. Geographers
act as environmental, trafficand pollution experts for all sorts of greenand
governmental organisations.

Times have never been better for psychologists, as it seems they are
now the most favoured ‘ologists’ among medical people, and there is a great
demand for assessment, personal development and even corporate change.

Alas, the call for theological consultants, at least in this life, has
been limited, with the exception of the US where religion has always been
a business, and vice versa. Classicists, Egyptologists and regionalists
also find consultancy jobs rather few and far between, except perhaps as
tour-guide leaders in the specialists’ regions.

But how well do academics take on this new role? How successful are
they at adapting their language, behaviour and expectations to new demands?
Indeed, isn’t an academic consultant really an oxymoron – a bit like business
ethics, military intelligence, South African justice and socialist worker?
The problem lies in the fact that the academic and the business executive
live in different worlds that expound and believe in very different values.
For the business executive, to say something is ‘academic’ is highly pejorative,
meaning that it is too abstract, esoteric or unusable; while for the academic,
the ‘world of trade’ often seems populated by impulsive, tyrannical egoists,
not bright enough to know that they aren’t. However unfair these stereotypes
are, they do exist, and no doubt to the detriment of both parties serve
only to keep them apart.

But in what respects are the academic and business worlds different?
The table on the left is not meant to be exhaustive, ranked, or judgmental.
There are no ‘four-legs-good; two-legs-bad’ choices and the dimensions are,
of course, simplified prototypes. But they may explain some of the problems
that members from both worlds have in dealing with one another.

For the academic, research may have a ‘blue-skies’ air about it. Its
aim is to achieve insight, understanding or knowledge that may or may not
be useful, applicable or saleable. The aim is to know the cause of things
and have comprehensive understanding of the issue under investigation. While
for many academics’pure’ research is the major aim, for thebusiness executive
research is nearly always applied. Research is action-oriented,problem-solving,
operation-intended. Inthis sense, the aim is much clearer andprobably more
short-term. Academics startwith a puzzle, consultants with a problem,and
the former are satisfied to know andunderstand, while the latter want to
use the knowledge.

Consultants are time-conscious, highurgency people driven by deadlines.
They want the answer now and are perplexed by the apparent sluggish, procrastinatory
ways of academics who resist the immediate fix-it nature of consultancy
jobs. Consultants certainly adhere to Franklin’s maxims: ‘Lost time is never
found again; remember that time is money’. Expectations about time and its
use are remarkably different in the two worlds.

To a large extent, academics and consultants look for different things
in solutions to problems. Whereas academics value elegance, parsimony, scope,
precision and testability, consultants often value applicability, comprehensibility
and feasibility. Academics like theories and solutions that are critical,
clear, logically consistent, explicit, verifiable and systematic. Although
the consultant might admire these characteristics, unless the theory or
solution is usable, or at least insightful, it is near worthless.

Most academics rely on a direct empirical base to support their advice
or theories. While the database can be of many kinds, it is important that
it is comprehensive, correctly measured and sampled, and free of ‘noise’
and errors. Some consultants are happy with a second-hand empirical base,
non-original sources and particularly illustrative case-histories to make
a point. Whereas the source of the data may be all-important for academics,
it is not for people in business.

The levels of complexity of theory, solution or model often differ in
the two worlds. Academics’ level of analysis is frequently complex and they
expect the client, whoever that is, to deal with the complexity. Consultants
strive to simplify and clarify in order to help the audience, the client
or the learner to comprehend. Academics are often scathing about the simple-minded
solutions of consultants, while the consultant sees the academic as needlessly
obfuscating an issue that can be presented much more clearly.

The way uncertainty is dealt with is very different in the two worlds.
Among academics, the issue is usually dealt with statistically by offering
probabilities on the likelihood of various outcomes. Academics then expect
people to interpret the results themselves. Consultants often find that
they have to deal with the issue personally by reassurance or interpretation.
In some senses, consultants feel they need to ‘own the problem’, while academics
take a more distant, uninvolved approach.

Consultants like to sell ideas, solutions and theories, and they usually
prefer to do so face-to-face. As polished presenters, consultants might
have slick slides and helpful hand-outs but their preference is for the
live medium. Academics prefer documents, tables and charts, and seem happiest
giving and receiving information in this form. Not even skilled at chalk-and-talk,
most academics feel most secure communicating by writing; hence their love
of word processors but not car phones or, worse, video phones.

For academics, self-presentation, in terms of dress and equipment, is
irrelevant because they value what is being said and the quality of ideas
over packaging. Often shabby, nearly always unfashionable and frequently
something of an eye-sore, the academic is easy to spot even in a crowd.
For consultants, the opposite is true. They know that their clients will
be acutely aware of the messages that are sent by such small things as the
type of watch, size of briefcase, elegance of technology used. Consultants
never underestimate the packaging of services because they have come to
learn the extent to which this can influence customer satisfaction.

Academics rely on their ability topersuade, often by the quality of
their data. The numbers do the talking. Consultants,on the other hand, often
use rhetoric – and with some success. This is not to suggest that there
are not some extremely skilled rhetoricians among academics, or that consultants
are empirically naive, but to suggest that when looking at their reports
and presentations, academics prefer the disinterested nature of empirical
data and consultants the power of persuasive words.

Whereas for consultants and their clients value for money has always
been important, academics are only recently having to argue the potential
benefits of their work in relation to its costs. For most academics, cost-benefit
analyses are impossible to calculate and they will cite many examples of
chance discoveries which have followed from blue-skies research. Consultants
have to demonstrate value in the short term.

Finally, it seems that academics and consultants not only have different
personalities but that they value certain characteristics differently. Academics
tend to be phlegmatic, stable introverts, respecting and emulating the thoughtful,
controlled, reliable, reserved, calm, even-tempered type. Consultants, on
the other hand, tend to be sanguine, stable extroverts – active, impulsive,
optimistic, responsive, easy going and sociable. These differences occur
partly out of necessity – consultants have to get on with people, to socialise
and to persuade. Academics, meanwhile, have to spend long periods alone
in libraries and laboratories collecting data very carefully.

There are no doubt hundreds of exceptions to the rules listed above
– instances where the differences either do not occur or occur in the opposite
way to that described. Certainly there are academics who can deal well with
the commercial world, and consultants whose training and methods are rigorous.
The problem remains, however, that academics and business people still do
not fully understand one another. They come from different cultures, share
different values and expectations, have different aims and strategies of
communication. It is only by recognising these differences that we can begin
to hope to eliminate them.

—————————————————————— CHARACTERISTICS
WHICH SEPARATE THE TWO WORLDS ——————————————————————
ACADEMICS CONSULTANTS ——————————————————————
MAJOR AIMS Insight and knowledge Action and operations
SPEED OF SOLUTION Low urgency High urgency
TYPE OF SOLUTION VALUED Elegant and critical Applicable
and comprehensible SOURCE OF DATA Direct empirical base
Second-hand empirical base LEVEL OF COMPLEXITY Frequently complex
Frequently simple DEALING WITH UNCERTAINTY Dealt with statistically
Dealt with personally PREFERRED MEDIUM OF PRESENTATION Written documents/tables
Face to face SELF-PRESENTATION Irrelevant, often shabby
Crucial, essentially smart MEANS OF PERSUASION Empirical data
Rhetoric COST-BENEFIT ANALYSIS Irrelevant
Crucial TYPE OF PERSONALITY VALUED Introvert
Extrovert ——————————————————————

Adrian Furnham, a reader in psychology at University College, London,
is an academic who dabbles in consultancy. David Pendleton, a former academic,
is director of Kiddy and Company, a psychological consultancy.