Third, like nuclear power plants and space rockets, bureaucracies are complex, integrated systems. Every process is connected to every other process. This lack of modularity makes it difficult to change one thing without changing everything. Where do you start? That’s the paradox of change in a bureaucracy: what seems doable isn’t transformational and what’s transformational doesn’t seem doable. The result: an endless succession of tweaks that never succeed in making the organization fundamentally more capable.

In many large organizations, the challenge is often diagnosed as internal. That is, the organization’s competitive problems may be much lighter than the obstacles imposed by its own outdated routines, bureaucracy, pools of entrenched interests, lack of cooperation across units, and plain-old bad management. Thus, the guiding policy lies in the realm of reorganization and renewal. And the set of coherent actions are changes in people, power, and procedures. In other cases the challenge may be building or deepening competitive advantage by pushing the frontiers of organizational capability.

The problem arises because of quality matching. That is, if you are in charge of one link of the chain, there is no point in investing resources in making your link better if other link managers are not.

To make matters even more difficult, striving for higher quality in just one of the linked units may make matters worse! Higher quality in a unit requires investments in better resources and more expensive inputs, including people. Since these efforts to improve just one linked unit will not improve the overall performance of the chain-linked system, the system’s overall profit actually declines. Thus, the incentive to improve each unit is dulled.

The overlapping of different systems — and the tendency of individuals to have different roles at different levels of abstraction — is a key part of Beer’s theory, and one of the main reasons why his diagrams got so complicated. He claims that every ‘viable system’ needs to have all five of the functions described so far in order to be capable of long-term survival, but that every such system can also be seen as System I within a larger system. Similarly, since we defined System I as part of an organisation that could in principle be a viable separate organisation, the internal management of System I needs to have its own equivalents to systems 2, 3, 4, and 5; it needs internal regulation, optimisation and intelligence, and a balancing, identity-preserving function of its own.

Often, when you’re trying to diagnose why a system is failing, you need to consider both the larger system in which it’s embedded and the organisation within its operations. A great source of management problems, for example, is that organisations often fail to identify some of their operations as distinct systems, and so they lack their own internal ‘higher functions’. A division of this sort will generally be a ‘problem child’; unable to absorb its own environmental variability, it will bounce from crisis to crisis, taking up disproportionate time and effort on the part of the middle managers to which it has been assigned.

And this story repeats itself through the history of management science; almost every classic of the literature seems to have described a way of adapting systems to a more complicated world, and then to have become obsolete itself. If you look past the slogans and think about what things like ‘management by objectives’, ‘focus on core competences’ and so on actually mean, they are all different ways of advising executives to restructure their businesses so that they don’t generate complexity faster than it can be managed.