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Making Sense Out of Chaos: Why Theory is Relevant to Supply Chain Research

2011; Wiley; Volume: 32; Issue: 1 Linguagem: Inglês

10.1111/j.2158-1592.2011.01000.x

2158-1592

Stanley E. Fawcett, Matthew A. Waller,

Management and Organizational Studies

The Academy, or academia, received its name from the akademeia—a sacred grove of olive trees where Plato founded his school of philosophy. Over time, the Academy emerged as the principal instrument for advancing knowledge and accumulating wisdom in Western Society. Today, we communicate this role of the Academy as to discover and disseminate knowledge (Simon 1967; Van De Ven 1989). As academics, we pursue this sacred trust primarily through our research, which we share via publication and “across the podium.” In both contexts, dialog is the primary vehicle for advancing knowledge. Understanding the nature of dialog is thus vital to our ability to fulfill our mandate as seekers and sharers of knowledge. Dialog is the process by which two or more people come to understand each other in their quest to understand better the world around them (Gadamer 1979). For dialog to advance knowledge, participants must be open to others’ points of view, truly accept that different perspectives are worthy of consideration, and simultaneously question their own beliefs. Senge (2006) describes the process of suspending assumptions by imagining people physically holding their assumptions suspended before them, as if trying to see and perceive them more fully. He emphasizes this process as an indispensable prerequisite to “thinking together” to achieve collaborative learning in the quest to come up with a better solution. Ultimately, the goal of dialog is not to “win an argument,” but to observe and understand a phenomenon well enough to dispel misconception and discover knowledge. From an academic perspective, the primary venue to initiate and pursue such conversations is publication in academic journals such as the Journal of Business Logistics. Unfortunately, business scholarship (especially in journals) has come under increased scrutiny. Bennis and O’Toole (2005) argued that business schools have “lost their way” (p. 96) and Ghoshal (2005) claimed that business research is “destroying good management practice” (p. 75). Indeed, the value of business research has long been questioned, with the debate focusing on the research-practice gap (Merton 1949; Bailey 1977; Beyer and Trice 1982; Rynes et al. 2001; Shapiro et al. 2007). Nowhere is the outcome of this research-versus-practice debate more important than in the supply chain realm. Logistics research has its roots firmly planted in rubber-meets-the-road practicality. Yet, today’s supply chain challenges such as collaboration, global network design, sustainability, and value creation reach strategic heights where organizational competitiveness and societal well-being are greatly influenced. As we begin our tenure as co-editors-in-chief of JBL, we consider it important to put the research-versus-practice or relevance-versus-rigor debate into appropriate context. Mentzer (2008, 72) sets the stage nicely: In business academia, we have long debated the relative importance of rigorous research versus research that is relevant. It is hard to understand why we continue this debate, when the answer is right in front of us: Why would we choose only one? How can research be considered good if it is not relevant to the discipline under study? How can research be useful if our methods are not rigorous enough to allow us to be confident in our results? We couldn’t agree more. But we question whether the truly meaningful debate has ever really been between relevant-but-weak research and irrelevant-but-methodologically sound research. Indeed, phrased in this way, the whole discussion seems a little silly (you might even say irrelevant). So, as we have suspended the various assumptions that underlie the debate trying to understand where JBL should be positioned, we have concluded that the real quandary focuses on theory versus practice. (At today’s university, relevance and rigor must room together.) After many conversations with each other and with colleagues around the world, we have arrived at an answer similar to Mentzer’s, “Why would we choose only one?” More than half a century ago, Lewin (1951) noted there is no inherent conflict between theory and practice, because “nothing is so practical as a good theory” (p. 169). We concur. Perhaps our inherent dilemma is that we do not fully understand the nature of theory. We believe that articles published in JBL must (1) be based on sound theory and (2) make meaningful and valid theoretical contributions. Therefore, we discuss theory’s relevance to leading-edge logistics and supply chain research as well as what constitutes a valuable theoretical contribution. Too often, people perceive theory (and academic business research) as cryptic, enigmatic, impenetrable, or unfathomable—that is, something beyond the interest and comprehension of the typical decision maker. Flynn (2008) shared one manager’s description of academic investigation as, “esoteric research written in arcane language and published in obscure journals, with no relevance for the real world” (p. 63). Similarly, theory is often confused with mere conjecture, hypothesis, presumption, or speculation—perhaps not worthy of serious, thoughtful consideration in the real world. We have all heard more than one manager say dismissively, “Its just theory,” as if saying, “I don’t have time for that nonsense!” To the extent that either perception is accurate, we are failing to perform the duty society has entrusted to us as stewards of knowledge discovery. We must do better if we expect the managerial community, which is the focus of our research investigations, to take us seriously. We have briefly highlighted what theory is not. To answer the question, “What is theory?” we take a closer look at the conversations we pursue through research. Three types of dialogue fill the pages of academic journals. Description focuses on what we observe or how things are done. Although informative, description by itself is often less than fully satisfying and is seldom enduring. We inherently want to know more. Explanation elaborates the whys that underlie the whats and hows we encounter in the world around us. Explanation relates phenomena of interest to create better understanding. Explanation helps managers understand key causal relationships, helping them discern that if they pull lever “A,” outcome “B” will result. Insight into why the world works the way it does has the potential to endure as well as to influence. This is theory. Prescription informs what to do when faced with a given challenge or set of circumstances. Importantly, accurate prescription is based on sound understanding—that is, good theory. Absent the understanding created by good theory, our prescriptions will be flawed, leading to either (a) a partial, but incomplete solution to our dilemma or (b) an unexpected and potentially counterproductive result. These conversation types are not mutually exclusive. True exploration of our decision-making environment often requires that we comingle description, explanation, and prescription within a single conversation. As Van De Ven (1989) notes, “Good theory goes beyond establishing empirically observed patterns, that is, it tries to explain what caused them” (p. 487). The explanatory power of good theory creates understanding, which is the foundation of good decision making. From this perspective, Lewin (1951) was correct: “nothing is so practical as good theory” (p. 169). As business academics, our opportunity, and responsibility, is to help explain the decision-making environment that surrounds managers. Our research makes the greatest contributions to knowledge discovery and dissemination when it helps us understand the core phenomena, and their interrelationships, that influence our tumultuous world. Consider the implications of globalization, technological innovation, cycle time compression, environmental uncertainty, and rising customer expectations on today’s decision-making environment. Together, these forces, along with a host of other phenomena, create a remarkably chaotic and challenging marketplace. They also create a fertile environment for asking and answering the question, “Why?” Perhaps we have never needed good theory more than today. Nor have we had a greater opportunity to make the vital contributions society expects from the Academy. Whetten (1989) highlights an essential reality regarding theory development via published dialog, saying, “Most organizational scholars are not going to generate a new theory from scratch” (p. 492). Few scholars begin a totally new conversation. Rather, they join an existing conversation by challenging assumptions, identifying new characteristics or contexts (the whats and hows), or coming up with an alternative why. This interactive dialogue is essential to the pursuit of theory development and knowledge discovery. Participating in active conversations helps us suspend or examine our assumptions as we strive to describe core phenomena, explain their vital relationships, and gain a more accurate understanding of decision contexts. The challenge for authors, editors, and reviewers alike is to determine what justifies a legitimate contribution to an ongoing conversation. Fortunately, no clear, easy-to-define metric exists. If it did, our conversations would become formulaic and stale as authors played the game of getting published. But we believe that some guidelines can help frame more effective conversations. The following ideas provide a starting point for identifying and evaluating theoretical contributions. When we demonstrate how a new variable changes our understanding of the focal phenomena, theoretical insight often emerges. To assess the value of this insight, we might ask, “How has our understanding been enhanced—either broadened or deepened?” When we find paradoxical inconsistencies in reported findings about a common phenomenon, we should be spurred to additional inquiry: “What is going on? Why are we seeing something different from what we expected; that is, from what the current theory predicts?” The ability to answer such a question cogently and plausibly constitutes a value-added contribution. Such questioning may lead us to a completely new way of thinking about our world. We might even start a new conversation. We might find it useful to try on a new pair of theoretical lenses from another discipline or field to help us suspend our assumptions about how the world works. New lenses often help us see more clearly. We might ask, “What do theories from other fields have to say about the phenomena of interest?” Similarly, in an effort to create a more nuanced, richer theoretical picture we might consider combining multiple theories to examine various facets of complex phenomena (Lewis and Grimes 1999). We should occasionally challenge the appropriateness of our methodological tools. As we do so, we may realize that the way we collect and analyze data constrains our vision, hiding from view alternative contexts, phenomena, and explanations. We need to periodically ask ourselves, “Are we using the best research strategies to cultivate meaningful understanding?” For example, switching from deduction to induction may bring new light and perspective to common problems and widely accepted theories. Today’s decision contexts are dynamic. We need to evaluate, “Has the world changed?” A careful evaluation may reveal that extant theory no longer adequately explains our decision-making environment. Sometimes “generation gaps” are real and what worked in the past is no longer relevant or valid today. Cronbach (1975) made this observation, noting, “Generalizations decay. At one time a conclusion describes the existing situation well, at a later time it accounts for rather little variance, and ultimately it is only valid as history” (p. 122). When inflection points emerge, we need to be able to accurately describe them and explain how they change the rules. Ultimately, the measure of a valuable theoretical contribution is whether or not it helps us perceive and understand the world more clearly. We therefore suggest two complementary thought experiments for evaluating the quality of contributions to theory development. First, we should map the value of our emerging theoretical insight to a simple two-by-two matrix (see Figure 1) composed of the dimensions “interesting” and “influential.” Good research should be interesting; that is, a decision-making constituency should be deeply interested in the topic. However, generating interest is not sufficient to claim a real theoretical contribution. Good theoretical research must also influence the way we see the world and lead to better understanding and decision making. Real, valuable insight emerges at the intersection of interesting and influential. Making a theoretical contribution. Second, we should pose two simple questions to help us assess the value of a specific contribution: “So what?” and “Therefore, what?”So what questions capture and combine the notions of what’s new and who cares. In other words, does our research contribute to the current thinking of a viable community of decision makers, prompting them to reconsider or reconceptualize their view of how the world works? Therefore what builds on the foundation of better understanding, signaling what should be done to create value, solve problems, and/or achieve differential performance. Meaningful advances in theory are interesting and influential—they alter the way we perceive important relationships and lead to both better thinking and better practices. Our world is chaotic and dynamic. Good theory is needed to (1) resolve the many pressing challenges that confront us daily as well as to (2) take advantage of the tremendous opportunities that continue to emerge with the advent of new technology, adjustments in government policy, and adaptations in social thought. As business academics, we have the opportunity and obligation to consider how our research can identify and delineate paths to value creation, corporate competitiveness, and societal well-being. As co-editors of JBL, we believe this journal is well positioned to deliver on the Academy’s promise to discover and disseminate knowledge that makes a real and beneficial difference. As the primary research publication of the Council of Supply Chain Management Professionals, JBL has long been perceived as the leading logistics journal. Equally important, JBL is one of a handful of journals positioned to take advantage of the emergence of the supply chain discipline. Nowhere in the Academy are more important, interesting, and influential topics being identified and discussed than in the supply chain domain. Accordingly, we suggest a three-step action plan to assure that we produce and deliver good theory that will be put into practice and assure outstanding value creation. Shapiro et al. (2007) noted that the research-versus-practice gap consists of two dimensions, which they labeled as, “lost in translation” and “lost before translation” (p. 249). Before we address the translation dilemma, we must assure that we produce something truly worth translating—that we are asking the right questions (Dess and Markoczy 2008). Being conversant in the day-to-day language of business can mitigate the knowledge production gap that emerges when we ask questions that only interest a handful of other academics (Pettigrew 2001; Carter 2008). Moreover, the real world offers an incredibly rich source of interesting research questions. Well-grounded knowledge production begins with active observation: Are we watching the news and reading relevant blogs? Are we listening to our students and professional colleagues when they ask questions? Such questions express a desire for better explanation. Do we participate in professional associations and expose our theories to the critical eyes of the practitioner audience? Do we look for new ideas, possible trends, and counterintuitive results in our consulting engagements? Such efforts will only ground us in meaningful inquiry if we are willing to suspend our assumptions, seeking clarity rather than confirmation. As we pursue the right questions, we must consider whether a reinforcing loop in the research process is keeping us from pursuing high-impact research. That is, the way we conduct research influences the types of questions we ask, which in turn dictate the types of research we conduct. We may become too comfortable with this circular process and get distracted from more meaningful research. To achieve relevance, we must embed ourselves, from time to time, in field-based research. Vermeulen (2007, 756–57) emphasizes, What you can learn about mountain gorillas by sitting in an office is limited. Surely, you can learn something about gorilla behavior by running regressions based on secondary data about populations, habitat, climate changes, etc., but to really interpret the results and truly comprehend the animal’s behavior, you need to understand them at a much more intimate level, which can only be gained through close observation or interaction. Hence, in order to truly understand my subject, I believe that every now and then, I have to force myself to go into the mountains and smell the beast. Maintaining a connection to the real world is only the first step in the knowledge supply chain—it assures that we start with valid inputs. Yet, quality outputs require a well-designed, constantly improved production process. One of the biggest challenges companies face is falling into the routine of doing things the way they have always done them. Such behavior is particularly dangerous in a dynamic world where the competitive rules may change at any time. When the rules change, a fresh look or a new approach may be necessary. The same is true in research. Individual researchers and entire disciplines can become trapped by the theories they have helped develop (Ghoshal 2005). Every problem, every opportunity, and every phenomenon is processed through the same set of paradigmatic lenses—whether those lenses clarify our vision or not. Similarly, we can become comfortable with familiar research methods, forgetting that the way we collect and analyze data molds the questions we ask and the way we see the world. To avoid getting overly comfortable and dependent on a limited set of inquiry tools, we must investigate theories and methods from varied disciplines. Occasionally working with new colleagues who employ alternative research tools is a great way to get us out of our comfort zones, refresh our perspective, and improve our ability to make meaningful theoretical contributions. By examining vexing problems through new lenses, we will see various facets of complex phenomena in a new light. Our explanatory power is bound to increase. Anyone who has traveled extensively has learned the power of language. When we speak the language of the country or community we live in, we can express ourselves and assure that others understand us. When we do not speak the communal language, the frustration of expression can be overwhelming. We feel lost, yearn for home, and swear we will never venture out again. But staying home limits our ability to broaden our horizons and share our talents. The same is true of the research world. As business academics, we must live in two very different communities (see Step 1 before). Can we make enduring contributions if we speak to only one audience? As Flynn (2008) asks, “Is our goal to simply entertain other academic researchers?” (p. 63). Instead, we must be bilingual. This reality has core implications for the knowledge-transfer or lost-in-translation dilemma (Beyer and Trice 1982). In most cases, we speak to multiple audiences by translating the findings of each major research project into “academic speak” and “practitioner speak” and submitting separate papers to different outlets. Perhaps it is time to think about structuring our academic papers so to make core implications more accessible to practitioners. Dess and Markoczy (2008) observed, “Too often practical implications of scholarly research are addressed in a rather cavalier manner, i.e., in one or two bland paragraphs at the end of a journal article. Little effort is devoted to developing rigorous, relevant, and implementable normative theory” (p. 58). We can and must do a better job of identifying and communicating the practical implications of our research. Carter (2008) suggests we learn to speak differently, such that, “ ‘doing research becomes working on projects,’ managers are presented with ‘ideas’ rather than ‘hypotheses,’ and instead of a ‘methodology’ a ‘strategy’ is used to test the ideas” (p. 80) Finally, to avoid burying our legitimate contributions in language that only a few people can fully understand, we need to reconsider what rigor really means. Mentzer (2008, 72) provides clarity on this translation issue: Rigor is the constant examination of whether research can actually support and justify the claims it makes. Rigor does not imply the use of increasingly complex methodologies just to prove we can use them. It implies use of the appropriate theories and methods to avoid concluding something the research did not actually reveal. As supply chain academics, we can and will make valuable contributions to the world’s knowledge base as we design our research for relevance. We must understand the knowledge-production and knowledge-translation difficulties that have always plagued the Academy. We must pursue research that accurately and confidently describes the world around us, explains how key relationships work, prescribes appropriate strategy and behavior, and sets the stage for further inquiry. Because good theory makes sense out of chaos, our pursuit for better theory that influences thought and practice will never end. The authors thank the following for their helpful comments on earlier drafts of this manuscript: Craig Carter, Marc Day, Thomas Goldsby, Greg Magnan, Thomas Rudolf, Rod Thomas, and Scott Webb.