University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII

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

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,

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

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 inspire

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

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.

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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 cöordinate 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

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

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

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.