THE LOVE OF THE GAME
AS A MEANS OF INCREASING HUMAN EFFICIENCY
THE motives discussed in previous chapters
are fairly adequate for developing
efficiency in all except the owner or
chief executive. The employee may imitate
and compete with his equals and his superiors;
he may work for his wage, and he may be loyal
to the house. To increase the industry and
enthusiasm of the head is a task of supreme
importance. Interest and enthusiasm must
be kindled at the top that the spark may be
passed down to the lower levels. It can never
travel in the opposite direction.
How, then, is the president to light his fires
and transmit his enthusiasm to his managers
and other subordinates? Not by working for
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money alone, nor through imitation, competition,
or loyalty to the works of his own hands.
All these may be essential, may be powerful
subordinate incentives to action, but singly or
collectively they are not adequate. In any
organization, the head who attains the maximum
of success must depend for his enthusiasm
upon an instinctive love of the game.
The subordinate possessing such love of
the game and independent of others for his
enthusiasm is sure to rise. The subject is,
therefore, of vital importance both to the
executive and to the ambitious employee.
Every employer feels the need of such an attitude
towards work, both in himself and in his
men.
An attempt will be made in this chapter
to comprehend this instinctive love of the
game, to discuss to what extent it is inherited
and to what extent subject to cultivation, and
to analyze the conditions most favorable for
its development in respect to one's own work
as well as that of his employees.
The love of the game is in part instinctive,
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and its nature is made clear by consideration
of certain of the instincts of animals.
The young lion spends much time in pretended
stalking of game and in harmless
struggles with his mates. He takes great
delight in the exercise of his cunning and in his
strength of limb and jaw. Fortunately for the
young lion this is the sort of activity best
adapted to develop his strength of muscle
and his cunning in capturing prey. However,
it is not for the sake of the training that the
young lion performs these particular acts.
He does them simply because he loves to. In
like manner the young greyhound chasing his
mates and the young squirrel gathering and
storing nuts have no thought beyond the instinctive
pleasure they find in performing these
functions. To each there is no other form of
activity so satisfactory.
Man possesses more instincts than any of
the lower animals. One pronounced instinct
in all normal males is the hunting instinct.
Grover Cleveland went fishing because he
loved the sport, not because of the value of
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the fish caught. Theodore Roosevelt did not
hunt big game in Africa because he was in need
of luscious steaks or tawny hides. He was not
working solely in the interest of the Smithsonian
Institute nor to secure material for his
book. Doubtless these were subsidiary motives,
but the chief reason why he killed the
game was that he instinctively loves the sport.
He endured the hardships of Africa for the
same reason that fishermen spend days in the
icy water of a trout stream and hunters lie still
for hours suffering intense cold for a chance to
shoot at a bear.
_For some men, buying and selling is as great a
delight as felling a deer. For others the manufacture
of goods is as great a joy as landing a
trout. For such a man enthusiasm for his work
is unfailing and industry unremittent_.
He is suited to his task as is the cub to the
fight, the puppy to the chase, the squirrel to
the burying of nuts, or the hunter to the killing
of game. His labor always appeals to
him as the thing of supremest moment. His
interest in it is such that it never fails to in-
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spire others by contagion. For such a man
laziness or indifference in business seems anomalous,
while industry and enthusiasm are as
natural as the air he breathes and as inexhaustible
as the air itself.
By classifying the love of the game as an
instinct, we seem to admit that it is born
and not developed; that some men possess
it and others do not; that if a man possesses
it, he does not need to cultivate it, and that
if he does not possess, he cannot acquire it.
There is doubtless much truth in this, but
fortunately it is not the whole truth.
Some instincts are specific--even stereotyped
--and not subject to cultivation or
change. Thus the bee's instinctive method of
gathering and storing honey is very specific
and definite. The bee is unable to modify its
routine to any great extent. The bee which
does not instinctively perform the different
acts properly will never learn to.
There are other instincts not so stereotyped
in manner or constant in degree. The
instincts of man are much more variable than
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those of the lower animals and are much more
subject to direction, inhibition, or development.
If this love of the game were solely a
matter of inheritance, if the business genius
were born and not made, and if it could not
be cultivated and developed, our hope for the
improvement of the race would be small.
Potential geniuses exist in large numbers
but fail of discovery because they are not
developed. Instincts manifest themselves only
in the presence of certain stimulating conditions.
They are developed by exercise and
stimulated further by the success attending
upon their exercise.
Thus certain conditions, more or less definite,
are effective in determining the line along which
instincts shall manifest themselves, and the
extent to which the instincts shall be developed
and then ultimately supplemented by
experience and reason.
Fortunately we have reason to believe that
although the business genius must have a good
inheritance, yet the inheritance does not determine
what its possessor shall make of himself.
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Many persons are inclined to overestimate
the influence of inheritance in determining
success in business. The folly of this attitude
is every day becoming more and more
apparent.
The conditions essential for developing
the love of the game in business may be
summarized under three heads:--
First, a man will develop a love of the game
in any business in which he is led to assume a
responsibility, to take personal initiative, to
feel that he is creating something, and that he
is expressing himself in his work.
As organizations become larger and more complex
in their methods, there is a corresponding
increase in the difficulty of making the employees
retain and develop this feeling of independent
and creative responsibility. Business
has become so specialized and the work of the
individual seems so petty that he is not likely
to feel that he is expressing himself through his
work or to retain a feeling of independence.
Properly conceived, there is no position in
trade or industry which does not warrant such
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an attitude. To promote this attitude various
devices have been adopted by business firms.
Some try to put a real responsibility on each
employee and to make him feel it. Others
have devised forms of partnership which give
numerous employees shares in the business
and so help to develop this attitude.
In developing men for responsible positions
this attitude must be secured and retained
even while they are occupying the lesser
positions.
_Few things so stimulate a boy as the feeling
that he is responsible for a certain task, that he is
expressing himself in it, that he is creating something
worth while_.
Many managers and more foremen are
unable to develop this feeling in their subordinates
because they assume all the responsibility
and allow those under them no share of
it. On the other hand, some executives have
the happy faculty of inspiring this attitude
in all their men. The late Marshall Field
made partners of his lieutenants and encouraged
them to assume responsibility and to do
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creative work. As a result they developed
a love of the game--a fact to which he owed
much of his phenomenal success.
The second condition or factor in the
development of the love of the game in business
is social prestige.
We have but partially expressed the nature
of man when we have spoken of him as delighting
in independent self-expression, as
being self-centered and self-seeking. Man is
inherently social in his nature and desires
nothing more than the approval of his fellows.
That which society approves we do with enthusiasm.
We change our forms of amusements,
our manner of life, and our daily occupations
according to the whims of society. Fifteen
years ago the riding of bicycles was quite the
proper thing, and we all trained down till we
could ride a century. To-day we are equally
enthusiastic in lowering bogy on the golf
course. This change in our ambitions is
not because it is inherently more fun to beat
bogy than to ride a century. The change has
come about simply because of the change of
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social prestige secured from the two forms of
amusement.
We may expect to find enthusiastic industry
in the accomplishment of any task which
society looks upon as particularly worthy.
During the past few decades in America
society has given the capitalist unusual honor
and has allowed him monetary rewards unprecedented
in the history of the world.
If the capitalist had been honored less than
the poet, the preacher, or the soldier, and his
material rewards fallen below theirs, our
money captains would have been fewer in
number.
In spite of occasional muck rakings, society's
esteem for the capitalist has been unbounded.
He is in general the only man with
a national reputation. Society bestows upon
him unstinted praise and the most generous
rewards for his toil. His rewards are so extravagant
that the game seems worthy of every
effort he can put forth. Love of the game has
consequently been engendered within him,
and his enthusiasm has been unbounded.
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This motive of social prestige is less easy
of application to the humbler ranks of employees.
Most men engaged in the industries are
entirely deprived of the stimulus because
their social group does not look with approval
upon their daily tasks. It may even despise
men for doing well work essential as preparatory
to better positions. There are many young
men engaged in perfectly worthy employment
who prefer that their social set should not
know of the exact nature of their work for
fear it would be regarded as menial and not
sufficiently ``swell.''
This disrespect for honest toil is due to
various causes. One cause is that nearly
all young men--and indeed most older men
too--look upon their present positions merely
as stepping stones. They look forward to promotion
and more interesting work. They and
their social group fail to accord dignity to the
work which they are doing at any time.
Another reason why the motive of social
prestige has no effect in the more humble
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positions is that in business we have practically
abandoned the standard of the artist
and adopted that of the capitalist. The
artist's standard is diametrically opposed to
the capitalistic standard. We honor the capitalist
not for what he does, but for the money
he gets for what he does. We honor the artist
for what he does and never because of the
monetary considerations which follow his
creation.
_To substitute the standard of the artist for the
standard of the capitalist would be impossible
in business, yet a harmonious working of the
two is possible_.
Such a harmony was probably present in the
old industrial guilds, which developed a class
consciousness creating its own ideals. Within
the guild the most skillful workman had the
highest honor. The work itself, independent
of the money which might be received for it,
was uppermost in the worker's mind.
The executive seeking to stimulate love of
the game among his workmen should in some
way see that social approval attaches itself
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to the work as such and not to the wage which
is secured by means of the work. The workmen
must be given an interest in the work as
well as in the wage.
Executives everywhere find that ``getting
together'' with others engaged in the same
work is most stimulating. We are inspired
by the presence of others engaged in the same
sort of work and giving approval to success in
our particular field.
_The third condition for securing a love of the
game is that the work itself must appeal to the
individual as something important and useful_.
Its useful function must be apparent, and
the necessity and advantage of perfect
performance must be emphasized. I play golf
because the game permits me to assert myself
and engage in independent and exhilarating
activity. My devotion to my professional
tasks, however, is dependent upon the fact
that I regard psychology, whether the work
be in research or instruction, as of the greatest
importance to science and to mankind in
general. The work as a whole and all the
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details of it seem to me to be important. In
performing my daily tasks they seem to me to
be worthy of the most persistent and enthusiastic
effort.
Doubtless there are classes of work incapable
of appealing to individuals as does my work to
me. But in many instances work seems menial
and ignoble because it is not understood. It is
not seen in its relationships and broader aspects.
The single task as performed by the
individual is so small and so specialized that
it does not seem worth while.
The dignity of labor demands that the
workman should respect the work of his
hands.
He should look upon his accomplished
tasks as of inherent dignity independent
of the monetary recompense to be received.
To keep the workman's efficiency keyed up,
the employer should see to it that this broader
aspect of labor is emphasized and that the day
laborer finds some reason for his labor besides
his wage. It is the only game he may ever
have time to play. It is to the interest of
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himself, his employer, and society at large that
he should enter enthusiastically into it and be
ennobled by it.
_Professional, technical, and vocational schools
are serving a noble function in emphasizing the
dignity of the work for which they are preparing
young men_.
They are more and more presenting the
broader aspects of the subjects taught. Even
the altruistic and extremely technical aspects
of the subject are found profitable. The narrower
and apparently the more practical course
does not result so successfully as the broader
and more cultural ones.
The boy who goes direct into work from
the public school is not likely to c<o:>ordinate
his task with the general activity of the
establishment, and he is not likely to see how he
is in anyway contributing to the welfare of
humanity by his work. He needs to be shown
how each line of industry and profession serves
a great function, has an interesting history, and
is vitally connected with many of the most
important human interests. He should learn
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to see how the different cogs are essential and
worthy factors in the total process. The boy
who thus comprehends his task looks upon it
and is inspired by it in a way that would
otherwise be quite impossible.
Some of the most successful houses have
been so impressed with the importance of this
form of industrial education that at their own
expense they have established night schools for
new employees as well as for those who have
been years with the firm. Not only are the
students taught how to perform their respective
tasks, but a broader program is attempted.
Sometimes an attempt is made to lead the
students to appreciate the dignity of the particular
activity in which the firm is engaged.
The history of the firm is then fully presented
so that the employees will comprehend the part
the house has actually taken in the world.
Some firms try to show each man how his
work is related to the work of the house as a
whole and to other departments. In various
ways schools and individual firms are successfully
attempting to inject a nobler regard
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and appreciation for labor. The result is most
gratifying and manifests itself in increased
enthusiasm and other expressions of the increased
love of the game.
The three conditions which we have been
considering for developing the love of the
game are quite different, appeal to the different
sides of the individual, and are not all
equally applicable to the young man who
seeks to become a leader among his fellows or
to the manager of men who seeks to develop
leaders.
The attitude of independent, creative responsibility
appeals to our individualistic and
self-centered self. It is an attitude that may
be assumed by the ambitious young man and
encouraged by the manager. It is absolutely
indispensable for developing this much-coveted
love of the game in any form of useful endeavor.
It is readily assumed or developed in the chief
executive, but may be developed in subordinates
with great difficulty.
Social prestige appeals to our selfishly
social natures, and yet the desire to secure this
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social favor is in the main ennobling. It is
of special value to the manager of large groups
of men. The manager may create the social
atmosphere which is most favorable to the
development of the love of the game in his
particular industry.
The last condition discussed, regard for
the work as important and as useful, makes
its appeal to our nobler and what we might in
some instances speak of as our altruistic selves.
This condition is equally serviceable to the
ambitious youth and to the successful superintendent
of men. We all look out for number
one, but appeals made to the higher self
are not unavailing. We are most profoundly
stirred when we are appealed to from all sides.
However, the love of the game will never be
universal in the professional and industrial
world. We can scarcely imagine the millennium
when all employees would cease to despise
their toil and cease to serve for pay alone.