Call it the coffee conundrum. It's a significant issue with immediate bearing on productivity and quality of life. How many coffee shops or (baristas) do you require to ensure an excellent latté (or espresso, or cappuccino)? Modern economic theory is definitive - one barista is not enough to generate competition. Competition breeds the best.
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So how about government departments?
Take the most monolithic, rigid, straight-jacketed department of them all - defence.
A few hundred years ago, colonels were given a lump sum. They raised regiments, trained soldiers, and lead them into battle. In World War Two, the commandos and Special Air Service got started in much the same way. Today these are the sharpest edge of our forces.
But that's not the way bureaucracy works.
Instead, standardisation (and mediocrity) is all the go. It's great at raising the level of the least able but hardly ideal for letting the best rip. We haven't created a culture that fosters innovation. Rather than developing new and better ways of doing things, we're rewarding form-filling. Instead of risking failure we reward the ordinary. What's needed is a way of preserving what works and simultaneously freeing up those with new ideas. How can we provide opportunities to develop, without harming the central core.
Last decade the US military did exactly that. It realised it had a problem in Iraq. The best equipped army in the world had completely lost control of the country it had so decisively and quickly invaded and occupied. The ultimate solution needed to be political, nevertheless a working group of mid-level officers came up with new operational methods. Implementing these created the vital space that finally permitted a (sort-of) strategic, political solution to emerge.
Until that moment the army had just been pushing on a closed door. When it refused to open the generals just pushed harder. That was the approved bureaucratic solution - doing things the old way, but better. What was required instead was a new way of thinking about the problem; pulling the door rather than pushing it. Legitimising other ways of conceptualising the issue allowed alternative ideas to flourish.
Go back to our baristas. Without giving them opportunity to try new beans, new ways of roasting, the coffee will always taste the same. Change is necessary to improve.
Our military does understands this. Sometimes it uses 'red-teaming', placing people in the position of opponents. This allows current methods and procedures to be probed. Unfortunately, however, this isn't done regularly. More importantly perhaps there's never any 'blue-teaming', examining alternative and radical ways of achieving our objectives. Everyone simply concentrates on keeping in their lane and making sure everything works smoothly, because that's the way to get promoted. Everyone promises themselves they'll shake things up when they get to the top, but they never do.
By that time most people have become so obsessed with getting the existing structures to work that other possibilities are discarded, so the bureaucratic monolith wins again. Focused on avoiding the worst, we prevent the best from emerging. Mediocrity triumphs.
Consider our force structure. The Australian Strategic Policy Institute's Marcus Hellyer recently skewered the fallacy of our traditional approach. He points out that, as we already have 72 F-35 Joint Strike Fighters, it seems unlikely another 24 will dramatically increase our security. The answer probably isn't just adding more platforms - something different may be needed.
What's required most of all is a new way of thinking.
This process intensifies as organisations grow. Take Home Affairs. The logic for placing all border security under one administrative roof is obvious; equally apparent is the risk of reversion to the average. Sure, there's the chance an infusion of fresh thinking might invigorate small, isolated agencies, but hard won areas of expertise risk becoming diluted. As the gaze moves away from the specific to the general it loses focus. Retaining sharp minds and methods of operation is needed and this requires change.
Change should never be indulged in simply for changes sake but it's difficult to remain sharp and retain focus without (occasionally) shaking the tree.
Particularly in an area not necessarily noted - in the past, of course - as a repository of the sharpest minds in the public service.
Home Affairs won't be abolished; but that doesn't mean it can't be made better. Throwing separate and discrete functions together into the one super-department might not have been a bad idea, but this doesn't mean it can't be improved. This is a good time to re-think how these should work together.
There's an obvious argument for separating intelligence and enforcement operations; the skills required are different. There are specific tasks, such as protecting petroleum security, and general ones, like preserving agriculture from diseases. It beggars belief to suggest that one department, no matter how efficiently administered, can adequately focus on such a diversity of threats. Equally, government possesses a multiplicity of cyber organisations: from the straight military to those focused on infrastructure to the information gathering. Doesn't this dilute a core expertise?
Change should never be indulged in simply for changes sake but it's difficult to remain sharp and retain focus without (occasionally) shaking the tree.
History is littered with examples of organisations that have failed to address the need to change. We shouldn't wait for a crisis to reveal shortcomings in operational structures and procedures.
Creative thinking is vital. Disruption is the future. Organisational and doctrinal rigidity won't cope with a world changing as rapidly as ours is today.
- Nicholas Stuart is a Canberra-based writer