Barry 1997 From Narrative Therapy to OC and OD

8/8/2019 Barry 1997 From Narrative Therapy to OC and OD

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Telling changes : fromnarrative family therapy toorganizational change and

developmentDavid Barry

University of Auckland, Management and Employment Relations Department, Auckland, New Zealand

Over the last few decades, narrative has become an increasingly popular andaccepted lens in organizational studies. Whereas organizational stories onceplayed bit p ar ts in researchers account s (e.g. Daltons (1959) inclus ion of executives stories in his theory of management, or Allisons (1971) nar rative-based theory of decision making), today they are increasingly used as keyexplanators of organizational life. In the quest to understand organizations asstory-bearing phenomena, researchers have focused on how narratives arelanguaged (e.g. Barleys (1983) semiotic study of funeral rituals), on variousforms of narrative telling (e.g. Van Maanens (1988) tales of the field and Bojes(1991) explorat ion of terse tellings), and on how narratives are interpreted (e.g.Barry and Elmes (1997) discussion of str ategy-as-story, Czarniawska-Joerges(1996) account of organizations as texts, and Weicks (1979) work on sensemaking).

Still, it might be argued that the story of organizational storytelling has justbegun. This is certainly true if one takes a pragmatist stance (Rorty, 1982): forall the interest organizational narrative has generated among researchers, onecannot help but wonder if those working in and with organizations are muchthe bett er for it. In part icular, I have increasingly found myself asking hownarrat ive considerat ions might inform an area that is concerned with large-scale betterment: organizational change. How might narrative writings, whichtend to take a non-utilitarian, postmodernist slant, be used to informorganizational change, which is often enacted in dist inctly utilitarian a ndmodernist ways?

In some ways, grounds for a partnership already exist. Though many of theframeworks used by organizational change and development practitionerspresume authorial expertise rooted in the notion of an objective, independentreality (e.g. organizational redesign, profit-shar ing sys tems, total qua litymanagement, and re-engineering programmes), there are others which takemore of a client knows best (or a t leas t client knows bet ter) position.Historically, the action research school has adopted th is st ance; consultant sfollowing an AR model see their primary role as helping clients to find their

Journal of Organizational ChangeManagement , Vol. 10 No. 1, 1997,pp. 30-46. MCBUniversity Press,0953-4814


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own solutions. More recently, interventionist approaches informed byinterpretive (Hiley et al., 1991), constructivist (Schwandt, 1994), andsymbolist views (Gagliardi, 1990), have arisen, each stressing the importanceof understanding in the change process. Change agents working from theseperspectives take a largely subjective view of things, seeing organizationalreality as something that is evanescent and locally defined. Understanding andloosening of meanings-in-use are considered fundamental requirements of anychange project (Barry, 1994; Frost and Egri, 1994; Hazen, 1993, 1994; Reasonand Hawkins, 1988). Considerable effort normally goes into symbolicconstructivism of some sort (Geertz, 1980, p. 177; see, also, Barry, 1996): pivotalsymbols are located and/or constructed, imbued with meaning, and used tocatalyse behavioural, cognitive, attitudinal and emotional changes. Reflectingwork with cognitive schemas and sense making (Gioia et al., 1994; Weick, 1995),it is assumed that if organizational members can better understand how theyconstruct themselves and their organization, they will be better able to addresstheir problems.

To this latter, growing chorus I would like to add another voice, one whichlinks considerations of change to a postmodern, social constructionist versionof narr ative theory. Specifically, I wish to explore how the groundbreakingwork of narrat ive therapists White and Epston (1990), Freedman and Combs(1996), Monk et al. (1997), and Parry and Doan (1994) might informorganizational change efforts.

Unlike most narrative theorizing, the narrative therapy tradition is intensely

concerned with facilitat ing change. Developed by practitioners who have had tocollectively cope with thousands of social psychological problems (many of them life threatening), this work reflects both an aversion to expert-imposedsolutions and a fascinat ion with clients ways of knowing. Compared to much of the organizational change literature, narrative therapy is thoroughly steeped inconsiderat ions of philosophy, literary theory, history and anthropology itprovides an enticing model of how scholarly work in the humanities might belinked to practice. It also challenges the often unvoiced assumpt ion that changetheory, if it is to work, must have scientific relat ives (consider Lewins force-fieldmodel, punctuated equilibrium theory, or even action research with itsexperimental focus). Not surprisingly, narrative therapy stresses the creation of literate symbols (White and Epston, 1990); as such, it shares elements with

other symbolic and metaphoric change methods (Barry, 1996; Morgan, 1986,1993). Yet, because it is rooted in nar rat ive construction, it attends more to time,ordering, wording, consultant positioning, story performance and audiencing,all of which are important considerations in organizational change. Asanthropologist Edward Bruner explains:

narr ative structure has an advantage over such related concepts as a metaphor orparadigm in that narrative emphasizes order and sequence, in a formal sense, and is moreappropriate for the study of change, the life-cycle, or any developmental process. Story as amodel has a remarkable dual aspect it is both linear and instantaneous (quoted in White andEpston, 1990, p. 3).


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Somewhat masked in Bruners statement is that narrative itself is a metaphorfor practice; as such, it leads to methods that differ considerably fromframeworks anchored in other metaphors. Whereas machine models of organizational problems lead to repair-based solutions, organic models t ocorrections of pathologies, game models to counter-str ategies, dramaturgicmodels to role revisions, and ritua list models to passage from one status toanother, narr ative (or textua l) models emphasize opening s pace for t heauthoring of alternative stories (White and Epston, 1990, p. 15).

In the following sections, I briefly review two key tenets of this approach andthen go on to consider how some of its most important change-related conceptsmight be applied to organizational settings. ( Note: this review only highlights asmall area of what is a very extensive body of writing.)

Some orienting tenets in narrative therapyA basic assumption among most nar rative therapists is that peoples lives areheavily influenced by the sense-making stories they tell about themselves (aview mirrored by organizational cognitivists such as Gioia et al. (1994) andWeick (1995)). What gets included in these stories may or may not be helpful;often, clients looking for help feel caught in a problem-saturated story overwhich they have little or no influence. As narrat ive therapist Karl Tomm (1987)states:

Not only do we, as humans, give meaning to our experience by storying our lives, we areempowered to perform our stories through our knowledge of them Some of these storiespromote competence and wellness. Others s erve to constr ain, trivialize, disqualify, orotherwise pat hologize ourselves, others, and our relationships. Still other stories can bereassuring, uplifting, liberating, revitalizing, or healing. The particular story that prevails ordominates in giving meaning to the events of our lives, to a large extent determines the natureof our lived experience and our pa tterns of action. When a problem satu rated st orypredominates, we are repeatedly invited into disappointment and misery (Epston and White,1989, p. 7).

These self-stories can be quite fragmented, unexamined, and partial in theiraccounting of events. Often, it seems the more problem-saturated the story, themore disparate its construction fractionalization helps keep the story at bay,making it seem less overwhelming. But it can also make change more difficultto effect. Thus, narrative therapists attempt to become careful readers andreflectors of client stories; considerable efforts are made to join piecemeal storyelements into something that is simultaneously more congruent and graspable.

A second, related tenet is that stories and power are fundamentallyinterconnected. Michael White (1991) has probably done the most to articulatethis thinking within the narrative therapy field (other narrative theorists havealso examined the power/story relationship (Hanne, 1994). Drawing extensivelyfrom Foucaults wr itings, he argues that individuals often find themselves inuntenable positions because they have unwittingly succumbed to power-ladencategories used in societal discourse. People, having been labelledschizophrenic, obsessive, and neurotic by various experts, proceed to


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Problem externalization As long as storytellers characterize themselves as the problem, they have littleroom to manoeuvre wherever they go, the problem goes too, preventing otherviews from arising. Problem externalization is assisted by deconstr uctivelistening (Freedman and Combs, 1996, p. 46), a reflective approach which helpsseparate a problem-saturated story from its teller. Narrative therapists assumetha t t he act of reading a nd reflecting back a clients st ory involves activeinterpretation, an act which can happen in more or less helpful ways. As withIsers reader-response theory (1989), the reading act is const rued as one of textual recomposition bits of the heard story are reassembled into a para-story, one which resembles the original but a lso decentres it. A memorableexample is provided by White and Epston (1990, pp. 43-6), as they recount theirexperiences with Nick, a young boy with a long history of encopresis:

Rarely did a day go by without an accident or incident, which usually meant the fullworks in his underwear. To make mat ters worse, Nick had befriended the poo. The poo hadbecome his playmate. When mapping the influence of family members in the life of what wecame to call Sneaky Poo, we discovered tha t although Sneaky Poo always tr ied to trick Nick into being his playmate, Nick could recall a number of occasions during which he had notallowed Sneaky Poo to outsmart him.

By reconstructing Nicks encopresis as an episodic struggle between Nick-as-protagonist and Sneaky Poo-as-antagonist, White an d Eps ton effectivelyseparated Nick from his problem. Sneaky Poo, as a kind of Winnie-the-Poohdoppelgnger, was now something distinct from Nick, some-thing he could

exert influence over. This form of reframing loosens ones hold on a par ticularreality, inviting a person into the liminal (Turner, 1982), a place in which thepast is momentarily negated, suspended, or abrogated, and the future has notyet begun, an instant of pure potentiality when everything, as it were, tremblesin the balance (Turner, 1982, p. 44). The liminal (from the Latin limen , meaningthreshold) represents a moment of symbolic fluidity where multiple realities cancoexist.

Identifying unique outcomes In the previous example, White and Epston found a previously untold par t of Nicks s tory a unique outcome where Nick had tu rned the tables onSneaky Poo. Using these moments as a referent, they encouraged him to expandthis alternative story. How had he managed to foil Sneaky Poos efforts? Whatwas he thinking and feeling? What happened after the confrontation? Findingunique outcomes is a unique practice comparatively, many contemporarychange models rely on the creation of an imagined, not-yet-experienced future,one which is visioned in some way (Nanus, 1992). The problem with suchmodels is that fantasized futures can be easily discounted as fantasy, theylack a certain credibility. And since they inevitably fail to materialize asimagined, such futures can lead to a continuing sense of failure and self-blame.In comparison, the unique outcome appr oach provides st orytellers withhistorical, unassailably concrete evidence that things can be different.


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As alternative accounts are identified and fleshed out, the original storytelleris faced with a series of what Bateson (1980, p. 97) termed double or multiplecomparisons. Placed side by side, these double descriptions (White, 1989,p. 88 ), help create news of difference which makes a difference (Bateson, 1972,p. 453). No longer is t here a s ole, dominat ing a ccount of the problem. Inclassically deconstructionist fashion, what was once a totalizing truth has nowbecome simply one of several stories. The story has become a story and theteller, sitting in the protagonists seat, has more options. S/he can decide whichstory version is preferable and has some idea of how that preferred story mightbe enacted.

Audiencing Consonant with t he dramat urgical idea that social reality is constructedthrough a community of players and witnesses to the play, narrative therapistsstress the concepts of performance and a udiencing. An essential par t of constr uctive audiencing is acknowledging and encouraging a storytellersefforts. T hus, the nar rat ive therapist acts as an enthusiast ic audience,applauding client efforts to author and enact a preferred story. This recognitionhappens not only during conversations with the client, but at other times aswell. Within White and Epstons work (1990), recognit ion often occurs throughletters they write to their clients. These letters may take a number of forms (e.g.letters which invite missing family members to a session, letters which predictclient outcomes, letters of reference which clients can show to int erestedothers). These letters have an important symbolic function they not only helpconcretize the re-authoring project, but provide tangible evidence of supportand interest.

Narrating organizational change While many hundreds of cases suggest that narrative therapy works well withindividuals, couples and families, at the organizational level it remains a seriesof intriguing possibilities. On the one hand, there are a number of reasons whythe approach might be applicable to organizations:

(1) Organizations are frequently viewed in family-like terms as clans(Ouchi, 1980), paternalistic systems (Casey, 1995), and asmultigenerat ional cultures (Martin, 1992).

(2) Many of the problems found in families are also found in organizations(e.g. issues of identity, survival, wellbeing, social positioning, power, co-ordinated effort, and conflicting meanings).

(3) Narrative therapy uses some of the same systems-based concepts thatunderpin many organ izational pr actices (Freedman and Combs, pp.1996: 2-8).

(4) Other approaches derived from family therapy have been successfullyapplied to large-scale organizations (e.g. Smiths (1989) use of splitt ing


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and triangulation theory to predict conflict shifts within a New Englandtown).

Yet there are (arguably) some difficulties with transferring the approach:

(1) Narrative therapists t end to work with small numbers of problems.Comparatively, organizations have enormous numbers of both problemsand solutions floating about, making the question of problem focusespecially salient.

(2) Organizations, because of their size, are harder to grasp and understandthan families, couples and individuals.

(3) Organizations are increasingly characterized by changing membership,making relationally-based change less relevant.

(4) Families and couples are not organized to achieve the same ends as arelarge organizations.

This was as far as my thinking had gone when my back started hurting. Acolleague (Jana Lyn-Holly) suggested I go to Osteo Ltd (a pseudonym), anosteopathy clinic she frequented (osteopathy is similar to chiropractie but usesdifferent movements). She had arranged to help Osteos owners (Sarah and Will)with marketing in exchange for bodywork sessions and suggested I do thesame: swap management consulting for back cracking. At first I laughed. Butmy back was gett ing worse, and my bank account was in sad shape as well.

I broached the matter with Will during my second treatment, somewherebetween the fifth and sixth vertebrae. In muffled tones (talking through the facehole of a massage table), I not only suggested we do a barter, but experimentwith using a narr ativist approach. I tried explaining how nar rativist work might go, only to conclude that Wills hands had a far better sense of directionthan I did. Will said he would talk it over with Sarah and, within a few days, itwas agreed that the four of us (Will, Sarah, Jana and myself) would meet todiscuss Osteo.

Prior to the meeting, I talked with several other s taff members, trying tofamiliarize myself with Osteos operations. I mostly listened as they describedwhat they did, what they liked and disliked about Osteo. When meeting withWill and Sarah, I asked, What would you like to come of our work together?As they talked, I took notes while Jana sketched metaphoric images; we hadagreed earlier that multiple renditions of Osteo might help create some usefuldouble descriptions.

It became clear the practice was awash with problems. Of the three clinics,only one was surviving financially. The 15 staff members were in various stagesof revolt, complaining of inadequate training and direction. Some had just beenhired and others fired, creating an air of anxious uncertainty. Both Will andSarah felt dist ressed and guilty about the recent lay-offs. No one knew where themoney was coming from or going to. Perhaps not surprisingly, there was littlesense of st rat egic direction. Will favoured selling off the unprofitable clinics;


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Sarah argued heatedly for keeping them. Sarah and Will looked wan anddejected; both were working 12-hour days to keep the business afloat.

I found myself overwhelmed by old consulting habits; though I had rejectedthe use of a st andar dized diagnostic framework, a host of solutions st illclamoured for attention: If they could just get their strategy straight, thingsshould fall into linemaybe some teambuildingbetter accounting andscheduling softwareperhaps a gain-sharing programme? Because of timeconstraint s on my part , and because Wills and Sarahs nar rat ives seemed tomirror much of what was going on at Osteo, I decided to work just with themfor the time being. I also began listening for internalized problemdescriptions, ones where Will and Sarah ha d in s ome way characterizedthemselves as p roblems. When asked what t hey thought needed the mostattention, two things emerged: administ rat ive competence and overwork. Thesewere also highly internalized issues: Sarah repeatedly described herself as anadministr ative incompetent, and Osteo as an administrative nightmare,while Will frequently said, We are all overworked here.

Following our meeting, Jana and I constructed visual and written portraits of our experience thus far ; these were sent to Sarah and Will about three dayslater. In Figure 1, Will and Sarah are pictured as having fallen into a wishingwell their wish-come-true business had turned into a prison. Will is trying toreach Joyce, a particularly angry employee who had just been given notice(Joyce is seen reaching for help with one hand and making a fist with the other).Sarah, shackled to the wall, watches helplessly as their savings pour away.

Overwork is represented in Figure 2. Will is pictured as a faceless,multitasking therapist who works with clients in a cookie-cutter fashion.Body bits that failed to make it through the mould are scattered at the bottom of the table, and off in the distance is a finish line Will maintained that if he couldbite the bullet and see enough clients, he would be able to retire to the goodlife. This mass production approach had been pa rt of Wills t raining inEngland as an apprentice, he had been expected to treat over 20 clients a day.

I composed a letter along the lines discussed earlier. I attempted toexternalize the problems of administ rat ive competence and overwork, as well ascall attention to alternative accounts. The questions asked were designed totemporalize the problems and to begin creating a sense of agency.

An initial letter to Sarah and Will Dear Sarah and Will,

We found ourselves chatting so much about your business after our meetingit was as if wehad been drinking Turkish cappuccinos instead of filtered water! We were intrigued by thedifferent issues you brought up and excited by the various possibilities. We appreciate thatyou are fun people who arent having a very good time right now and so we are approachingthis process by creating story characters, ones we hope you can help us flesh out.

For now, your collective story seems to revolve around two char acters: Overwork an dAdministrative Angst. In your telling, they seemed like close cousins or an old mar ried couple one was never far from the other.


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Overwork: when you talked about all the work you do, we got an image of you running as hardas youre able for the finish line, only to find that someone had moved it back out of sight. Andwhen you talked of the future, the word faceless came up a lot. A picture came to us of heapsof bodies, their forgotten faces removed. It gave us the shivers. Jana thought of it being like ameatworks. Whose leg is this? she said, holding a pen in the air.

Administrative Angst: when you talked of administration, I (David) got an image of a dark cave a slippery, confusing place where things nip and bite at your heels. There are lots of things hiding in that cave: old things like Wills memory of the body factory back inEngland, a nagging dislike for the financial side of things, and questions about whether youare worth the money you charge. And newer things like your shaken up feelings after havinglet go of Joyce, and worries about not being able to tend to all the business details. Weempathized with your concerns over installing a heavy-handed administrative system, one at

odds with your beliefs in empowering and enjoyable work. And we know it must be tough towant to spread your work, to do this in a way that honours both your needs, and yet not knowhow to go about it (or even what it is, exactly).

We also were impressed by your resolve to tackle t hese things. Your h ope filled us withwarmth. We especially liked your story about hiring Fran. It was clear to us you know a lotabout surrounding yourselves with the right people, people who, like you, can deal withthings in the face of adversity (Sarahs quote). The questions Sarah asked when interviewingFran, the things she at tended to it seemed like she was a h iring expert for a big consultingoutfit! We wondered where she got those skills whats the story here?

We were similarly impress ed with Wills ingenu ity in d ealing wit h th e lawyer: how hemanaged to sur face and work with all those life issues buried in the lawyers muscles, how hewas able to provide empathy and care even after working so hard. Where did this ability comefrom? What is its history?

Our interview brought up many questions for us and we are excited at the prospect of co-authoring a new story. Below are some of the questions were thinking and wondering about,things we hope to discuss at our next meeting:

What images and/or names would you assign to Overwork and Administrative Angst?

What have the careers of these characters been? How is it that both these characters gotsuch high-paying jobs?

Sarah, what will you have to do to guarantee the survival of these characters? Will,what must you do to make sure these characters continue to prosper?

What names and images might you assign to your natural skills and talents? Whatwould they look like if you drew them?

We wonder what would happen if Skills and Talents met up with Overwork andAdministrative Angst? What would the conversation sound like?

We are great ly looking forward to our next meeting and to hearing how your story(ies) hasbeen evolving.

All the best,

David and Jana

When we next met (about a month later), it was evident that things had begunto change. Both Sarah and Will found the visual images very haunting and feltshaken by our construction of their story. Meanwhile, they had found ways todo some business planning and enjoy themselves at the same time. Will felt


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more inclined to tackle the administrative load, yet still felt anxious abouthaving enough time to handle it properly. An image arose of Will as a leasheddog straining to chase the cat of administration (see Figure 3).

Last, I attempted to get Sarah and Will thinking about how their relationshipwith Overwork and Administrat ive Angst had changed. Following White and

Figure 1.Administrative Angst


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Eps tons (1990, p. 116) examp le, I asked Sar ah a nd Will to est imat e thepercentage of influence each character now had in their lives. These points weresummarized through more drawings and another letter:

Follow-up letter from the second meeting Dear Will and Sarah,

As before, wed like to share some of our takes on the conversation we heard last night andwe invite you to add to and comment on our interpretations. After leaving the meeting, weboth commented on the different feel that this meeting had (from the one before).

Sarah, you seemed to capture it when you said you felt more comfortable opening up. Wealso felt more opened too it felt okay to share some of our own transitions with you. Therewas quite a flow of images this time, not only from Janas pencil, but from both of you as well.

In our last letter, we expressed a desire for you to help us flesh out the characterization of Overwork and Administrative Angst. You seemed to be more in the spirit of this process. Forinstance, the additions you made to Angst started bringing it to life

Will, youve begun to create an Angst scenario: theres Mr P. (Poor) Victim and the imageof the snarling dog tha t wanted to move to the next game, but who felt tied to a stake, unableto att ack th e elusive cat of administrat ive responsibility. The leash seemed to havesomething to do with time-based fearfear of not having enough time, fear of diminishedrelaxat ion time. Enter Overwork: Sarahs depiction of Mr P. Victim as someone sitting behinda desk, someone who hadnt shaved, eaten or slept in quite a while. And Will owned this bysaying hed felt quite stressed over the last couple of weeks. Sarah added to the scene by

Figure 2.Overwork


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bringing in the notion of overcontrol (holding the leash of the beast), saying that sometimesher wish to have everything work predictably leads to a sense of anxiousness.

Were beginning to see how things are changing for you you told us about yourSaturday/Sunday planning retreat. This incident was quite different from the old story thepicture of you sitt ing at the Devonport cafe, smiling, conversing easily, privately, creating jointunderstanding about your future this contrasted with the other images of being imprisonedby your work. And then, there was the comment that these initial characters, (and theproblems they were causing), had been robbed of 20 per cent of their influence. That is, theyhad only 80 per cent of their previous effect. Have both characters lost 20 per cent of th eirinfluence?

Somehow (and were extremely curious about the how par t), you managed to combine work and relaxation in a way that suited both of you. Even though we didnt get to hear as much

about it a s wed have liked, we were str uck by how soft you were when recollecting that timeand by how you were able to create time for yourselves, despite your tiredness and manycommitments.

Sarah, you described how you found a way to give by listening to Wills desire to gosomewhere other than where I work, and by somehow overcoming your disappointmentwhen Will returned home with his parents in tow (after you thought you were going to haveprivate time with him).

Will, you somehow found the energy and resolve to part with your pa rents and have anintimate, enjoyable discussion about management and planning. If you were going to title thisscenario, any suggestions? How would you flesh out the characters involved? Would you namethem?

You both identified the Devonport planning retreat scene as a preferred one. Will, you alsobrought up the fascinat ing dilemma of how you feel accustomed to the old dog-on-the-chain

story. What s it like, having one paw in one story and another paw in a different one? Wewonder about your vacillation between want ing to expand the business or keep it smalleristhe vacillation part of the old story or the new one? Sarah, do you have some attachments tothe old story too? This all ties back to the question (which we never really managed to get to)of what you both must do to ensure the survival of Overwork and Administrative Angst.

We notice some other shifts happening. Through your planning retreat and other discussions,you seem to be creating a clearer picture of the numbers, and of how much you need to achieveyour goals. This scenario seems different from the old story. Does having more clarity aroundthe numbers affect other parts of your work/life? You talked of changing the hours youreworking (going to 30-minute sessions): how does th is feel? Your vision of the future also seemstighter, more coherent now you seem more determined to support your business from thehammock of delegation rather than from the tightrope of constantly balancing the budget.

We also wonder if youve started bringing the rest of the staff into this picturewhat is theirrelationship to Administrative Angst and Overwork? How might they tell the story?

Wed like you to consider the following:

Will, in reference to your dog picture, just what does that stake represent? The leash ?And who put you in that s ituation?

Sarah, what resources, skills, and/or talents have you drawn on that have allowed youto delegate, relax, kick back more, and control less (or perhaps find a more satisfyingform of control)?

Back to the beginning of the story how did you know you were ready to start abusiness? Was this something someone told you to do? And if so, did they also tell youhow to go about r unning it?


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Have others noticed the changes youve started to make? What are their thoughts aboutthis?

Warmest regards,David and Jana

My relationship with Osteo lasted several more months, following more or lessthe same course. I continued to compose and send letters and, at one point, hadWill and Sarah draw Osteo (using a symbolic constructivist framework (seeBarry, 1996). The last four meetings were conducted without Jana (who went towork overseas). There were times when I felt the process was nonsensical andimpractical; I came close to ending the project more than once. Each t ime Ishared these feelings, both Sarah and Will strongly urged me to continue. Theymaintained that despite appearances to the contrary (all kinds of divorces hadbeen threatened), they found the work liberating. In fact, many changes didoccur over the long run workloads decreased all around and everyone I talkedto there reported feeling a lot happier. Administrative tasks such as accountingand scheduling started running smoothly; yet none of the staff had takenspecial training. The practice became profitable, and most of the staff were quiteoptimistic about Osteos future.

I felt strange about all this; though Sarah and Will swore the nar rative work hadfundamentally changed their practice, it seemed too good to be true. Could thesefew artful stories have helped so much? Maybe this was all some enormousplacebo effect, some self-fulfilling prophecy. Yet there had been no prophesying,no strategizing, no visioning; no expert answers, no advice. Perhaps thechanges would have occurred anyway; certainly, Will and Sarah cared deeplyabout their practice and had worked hard to improve it. This brings me to someconcluding thoughts and questions.

As suggested earlier, organizational sett ings present a d ilemma aroundproblem selection which of the many issues should be addressed? Should onego the 80/20 route propounded in business schools (where one asks, Which

Figure 3.Will straining to take onadministrativeresponsibility


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20 per cent of the problems are causing 80 per cent of the grief?). Or use contentanalysis to identify the most frequently voiced problem? Here, we simplyfocused on problems that had high levels of self-identification ones where theclients identified themselves as the problem. We assumed that these problemswould be the most debilitating; as White and Epston (1990) have argued, whenclients feel they are the problem, they remain trapped and immobilized. Takingthis approach, narrativist change agents might listen for, We are phrases We are too conservative We are bogged down. These might be thought of as identity statements, ones where clients sense of self is somehow at issue.

Related to the problem-identification dilemma is the question of who shouldbe in on the storytelling process; how wide should the net be cast? The work we did with Osteo reflected a kind of little big model of influence a belief that , although few in number, key decision makers tend to affect greatly howorganizations operate. This perspective assumes that the dynamics present intop management group levels are mirrored in the larger organization.Consequently, most of our t ime was sp ent with Will and Sar ah. A moreegalitarian approach might have involved personal communication formingstory groups or problem leagues (a term coined by David Epston)comprising people from different functional groups. These groups might usesome of the same methods adopted above (in Epstons leagues, members notonly listen to one anothers stories, they also write letters of support).

As I used th is approach, I was str uck by how piecemeal organizationalstories a re esp ecially problem-sat ur at ed ones. Reflecting Bojes (1991)

findings, I rarely encountered a whole, intact story. Rather, I discovered storybits and pieces a partly developed character here, a plot twist there. I suspectthat narrative therapys emphasis on more complete tellings is pa rt icularlyhelpful in organizations where terse t ellings are the norm (Boje, 1991);expanded tellings can offer those lost in the trees ways of seeing the forest(and perhaps other more attractive landscapes).

I have also become aware that this approach has little to do with solvingproblems (at least not directly); rather, it is about changing the relationshipspeople have with their problems. Problem solving is supplanted by problemdissolving solutions by dissolutions. As a problem becomes moreexternalized and less tied to self-identity, a lot of energy gets freed up, energywhich goes in unpredictable, but often positive ways. I noticed that as Will andSarah grappled with administrative angst and overwork, many other problemsshifted and dissolved as well.

A question arose for me about the value of different forms of representation.According to Sarah and Will, Janas drawings had a pronounced catalytic effect;whereas the questions I raised (both in person and in the letters) sometimesformed an unmemorable blur, the wishing well and cookie cutter portraitsbecame vivid discussion anchors. These images had a way of pushing Osteointo liminal space. For change to occur, it appears that non-routine representation is helpful as Bateson (1972, p. 453) argued, making a differencedoes indeed make a difference. Yet it is also important to consider the


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appropriately unusual (Anderson, 1995, pp. 15-16). If a representation is toounusual (or not unusual enough), it will go unnoticed. Finding appropriatelevels of difference clearly requires contextualization and experimentation (e.g.photolab technicians might find photo representation less engaging than thosetoiling at an assembly plant would). A related point centres on who should bedoing the representing the client, the change agent, or both? Would the visual(and metaphorizing) work have had more impact if it had come from Will andSarah? Though each of these issues have been discussed elsewhere (e.g. Barry,1996), more study is needed in the area of who creates what.

Others have raised the question of how the genre concept might be applied toorganizational narratives (Barry and Elmes, 1997; Czarniawska-Joerges, 1996);I feel it applies here as well. Many narrative therapists work within what DavidEpst on (personal communication) calls a valorizing genre, where theclient/protagonist achieves self-worth through successfully battling with aproblem/antagonist. Though it is doubtful whether a tragic approach would beall that helpful, perhaps comedic or satirical styles are worth exploring. Withina comedic genre, for instance, the problem/antagonist might be engaged moreplayfully and with less reverence. Greater consideration might also be given tocharacter development in change narratives (an area of great import in literarynarrative theory): do some characterizations work better than others? When aremimetic characterizations preferable to metaphoric ones?

Returning to the more fundamental question raised at the onset of the Osteoproject Can the work of narrative therapy be usefully applied toorganizational change management? I am tentatively inclined to say yes.Given that the narrative approach works particularly well with individuals andsmall groups, I imagine it would also prove effective with organizational focusgroups; these might be run simultaneously or serially, with each groups storyserving to inform other groups work. A different approach might involvemodifying survey feedback methods to incorporate a narrative perspective externa lizing questions around organizational concerns might be broadlycirculated; collected answers could then be used to formulate a round of questions about unique outcomes. Letter writing might be used with vir tualorganizations or in situations where organizational members must work at adistance; my experiences with Osteo suggest that a surprising number of changes can be effected through the mail. Others have begun applying narrat iveapproaches to organizational skills training and conflict mediation (Monk et al.,1997); the limitations of the narrative approach within organizations still awaitdiscovery.

More questions might be raised many more. However, given thecontextually sensitive, hermeneutic nature of the narrative change project, it isprobably best if these questions arise through work with other organizationsand over time. Questions important for some organizations may seeminconsequential to others. People in tomorrows orga nizations might findtodays forms of enquiry insulting. Perhaps the reader might be wondering


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Can we conclude anything at all just now? Yes, certainly. My back is better forthe work of this I am sure.

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NY.

Documents

Barry 1997 From Narrative Therapy to OC and OD