The symbolic frame forms an umbrella for ideas from several disciplines, including organization theory and sociology (Selznick, 1957; Blumer, 1969; Schutz, 1970; Clark, 1975; Corwin, 1976; March and Olsen, 1976; Meyer and Rowan, 1978; Weick, 1976; Davis and others, 1976; Hofstede, 1984); political science (Dittmer, 1977; Edelman, 1971); magic (O'Keefe, 1983); and neurolinguistic programming (Bandler and Grinder, 1975, 1977). Freud and Jung relied heavily on symbolic concepts to probe the human psyche and unconscious archetypes. Anthropologists have traditionally focused on symbols and their place in the lives of humans (Mead, 1989; Benedict, 1989; Goffman, 1974; Ortner, 1973; Bateson, 1972).

The symbolic frame distills ideas from diverse sources into five suppositions:

The symbolic frame sees life as figurative, more serendipitous than linear. Organizations are like constantly changing, organic pinball machines. Issues, actors, decisions, and policies carom through an elastic labyrinth of cushions, barriers, and traps. Managers turning to Peter Drucker's Effective Executive might do better seeking advice from Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking Glass. But apparent chaos has a pattern and an emblematic order increasingly appreciated in corporate life.

An organization's culture is revealed and communicated through its symbols: Geico's gecko, Target's bull's-eye, or Budweiser's Clydesdales. McDonald's franchises are unified as much by golden arches, core values, and the legend of Ray Kroc as by sophisticated control systems. Harvard professors are bound less by structural constraints than by rituals of teaching, values of scholarship, and the myths and mystique of Harvard.

Symbols take many forms in organizations. Myth, vision, and values imbue an organization with purpose and resolve. Heroes and heroines, through words and deeds, serve as living logos. Fairy tales and stories tender explanations, reconcile contradictions, and resolve dilemmas (Cohen, 1969). Rituals and ceremonies offer direction, faith, and hope (Ortner, 1973). Metaphor, humor, and play loosen things up. We look at each of these symbolic forms in this section.

Myths, Vision, and Values

Myths, operating at a mystical level, are the story behind the story (Campbell, 1988). They explain, express, legitimize, and maintain solidarity and cohesion. They communicate unconscious wishes and conflicts, mediate contradictions, and offer a narrative anchoring the present in the past (Cohen, 1969). All organizations rely on myths or sagas of varying strength and intensity (Clark, 1975). Myths transform a place of work into a revered institution and an all-encompassing way of life.

Myths often originate in the launching of an enterprise. The original plan for Southwest Airlines, for example, was sketched on a cocktail napkin in a San Antonio bar. It envisioned connecting three Texas cities: Dallas, Houston, and San Antonio. As legend has it, Rollin King, one of the original founders, said to his counterpart Herb Kelleher, "Herb, let's start an airline." Kelleher, who later became Southwest's CEO, replied, "Rollin, you're crazy. Let's do it!" (Freiberg and Freiberg, 1998, p. 15).

As the new airline moved ahead, it met fierce resistance from established carriers. Four years of legal wrangling kept the upstart grounded. In 1971, the Texas Supreme Court ruled in Southwest's favor, and its planes were ready to fly. A local sheriff's threat to halt flights under a court injunction prompted a terse directive from Kelleher: "You roll right over the son of a bitch and leave our tire tracks on his uniform if you have to "(Freiberg and Freiberg, 1998, p. 21). (The order, of course, signaled resolve, not an actual intention to cause harm.) The persistence and zaniness of Southwest's mythologized beginnings shape its unique culture: "The spirit and steadfastness that enabled the airline to survive in its early years is what makes Southwest such a remarkable company today" (p. 14).

Myths undergird an organization's values. Values characterize what an organization stands for, qualities worthy of esteem or commitment. Unlike goals, values are intangible and define a unique distinguishing character. Values convey a sense of identity, from boardroom to factory floor, and help people feel special about what they do.

The values that count are those an organization lives, regardless of what it articulates in mission statements or formal documents. Southwest Airlines has never codified its values formally. But its Symbol of Freedom billboards and banners express the company's defining purpose: extending freedom to fly to everyone, not just the elite, and doing it with an abiding sense of fun. Other organizations make values more explicit. The Edina (Minnesota) School District, following the suicide of a superintendent, involved staff, parents, and students in formally articulating values in a document: "We care. We share. We dare." The values of the U.S. Marine Corps are condensed into a simple phrase: "Semper Fi" (short for semper fidelis—always faithful). It is more than a motto; it stands for the traditions, sentiments, and solidarity that are instilled into recruits and perpetuated by veteran Marines: "The values and assumptions that shape its members ... are all the Marines have. They are the smallest of the U.S. military services, and in many ways the most interesting. Theirs is the richest culture: formalistic, insular, elitist, with a deep anchor in their own history and mythology" (Ricks, 1998, p. 19).

Vision turns an organization's core ideology, or sense of purpose, into an image of the future. It is a shared fantasy, illuminating new possibilities within the realm of myths and values. Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech, for example, articulated poetically a new future for race relations rooted in the ideals of America's founding fathers.

Vision is seen as vital in contemporary organizations. In Built to Last, Collins and Porras profile a number of extraordinary companies and conclude, "The essence of a visionary company comes in the translation of its core ideology and its own unique drive for progress into the very fabric of the organization" (1994, p. 201). Johnson & Johnson's commitment to the elimination of "pain and disease" and to "the doctors, nurses, hospitals, mothers, and all others who use our products" motivated the company to make the costly decision to pull Tylenol from store shelves when several tainted bottles were discovered. 3M's principle of "thou shalt not kill a new product idea" came to life when someone refused to stop working on an idea that became Scotch Tape. The same principle paved the way for Post-it notes, a product resurrected from a failed adhesive. A vision offers mental pictures linking historical legend and core precepts to future events. Shared, it imbues an organization with spirit, resolve, and élan.

Subtle distinctions among intangible myths, values, and visions are difficult to draw—these ideas often conjoin. Take eBay, which emerged as a highly visible success amid a sea of 1990s dot-com disasters. Its interplay of myth, values, and vision contributes to top performance, even in a tough economic environment. Much of eBay's success can be traced to its founder, Pierre Omidyar. He envisioned a marketplace where buyers would have equal access to products and prices, and sellers would have an open outlet for goods. Prices would be set by laws of supply and demand. But Omidyar's vision incorporated another element: community. Historically, people have used market stalls and cafés to swap gossip, trade advice, and pass the time of day. Omidyar wanted to combine virtual business site and caring community. That vision led to eBay's core values of commerce and community. Embedded in these are corollary principles: "Treat other people online as you would like to be treated, and when disputes arise, give other people the benefit of the doubt."

eBay is awash in myths and legends. Omidyar's vision is said to have taken root over dinner with his fiancée. She complained that their move from Boston to Silicon Valley severed her ties with fellow collectors of Pez dispensers. He obliquely came to her rescue by writing code laying the foundation for a new company. Did it happen this way? Not quite. This story was hatched by Mary Lou Song, an eBay publicist, in an effort to get media exposure. Her rationale: "Nobody wants to hear about a thirty-year-old genius who wanted to create a perfect market. They want to hear that he did it for his fiancée." Her version persists because myths are truer than truth.

Heroes and Heroines

In the wake of scandals at Enron and elsewhere, Business Week (Byrnes, Byrne, Edwards, and Lee, 2002) profiled six "good" CEOs. They were not media celebrities like Lee Iacocca and Jack Welch nor symbols of corporate greed like Ken Lay, Bernie Ebbers, and Dennis Kozlowski. They were solid leaders who built time-tested companies and delivered results.

Just as important, these six leaders modeled corporate values they hoped to instill. Colgate Palmolive's Ruben Mark, one of the six, refused to comment on the story. He felt that an interview would add little value to his company. Another, Costco's James Sinegal, took pride in his disdain for corporate perks. He answered his own phone and personally escorted guests to his spartan office—no bathroom, no walls, twenty-year-old furniture. He commented: "We're low-cost operators, and it would be a little phony if we tried to pretend that we're not and had all the trappings" (Byrnes, Byrne, Edwards, and Lee, 2002, p. 82).

All six executives seemed to embrace their symbolic role as cultural heroes. They were living logos, human icons, whose words and deeds exemplified and reinforced important core values. The impact of well-placed cultural heroes and heroines is underscored by Bernie Marcus, cofounder of Home Depot: "People watch the titular heads of companies, how they live their lives, and they know [if] they are being sold a bill of goods. If you are a selfish son-of-a-bitch, well that usually comes across fairly well. And it comes across no matter how many memos you send out [stating otherwise]" (Roush, 1999, p. 139).

Not all icons are at the top. Doing their jobs, ordinary people often perform exemplary deeds. The late Joe Vallejo, custodian at a California junior high school, kept the place immaculate. But he was also a liaison between the school and its community. His influence knew few limits. When emotions ran high, he attended parent conferences and often negotiated a compromise acceptable to all parties. He knew the students and checked report cards. He was not bashful about telling seasoned teachers how to tailor lessons. When he retired, a patio was named in his honor. It remains today, commemorating a hero who made a difference well beyond his formal assignment.

Some heroic exploits go unrecognized because they happen out of view. Southwest Airlines annually recognizes its behind-the-scenes employees in a "Heroes of the Heart" award ceremony. The honor goes to the backstage group that contributes most to Southwest's unique culture and successful performance. The year following the award, a Southwest aircraft flies with the group's name on its fuselage. A song written for the occasion expresses the value Southwest places on its heroes and heroines whose important work is often hidden:

The Twin Towers tragedy reminded Americans of the vital role heroism plays in the human spirit. New York City police officers and firefighters touched people's hearts by risking their lives to save others. Many perished as a result. Their sacrifices reaffirmed Americans' spirit and resolve in enduring one of the nation's most costly tragedies. But every day, less dramatic acts of courage come to light as people go out of their way to help customers or serve communities. Newsweek runs an "everyday heroes" feature showcasing the uncommon exploits of common people. NBC's Nightly News airs a Friday segment recognizing people who "have made a difference." In 2007, Colin Powell proposed an "Above the Call" citizen award, a recognition on par with the Congressional Medal of Honor.

Exploits of heroes and heroines are lodged in our psyches. We call on their examples in times of uncertainty and stress. American POWs in North Vietnamese prisons drew upon stories of the courage of Captain Lance Sijan, Admiral James Stockdale, and Colonel Bud Day, who refused to capitulate to Viet Cong captors. "[Their examples] when passed along the clandestine prison communications network ... helped support the resolve that eventually defeated the enemy's efforts" (McConnell, 2004, p. 249). During the Bosnian conflict, the ordeal of Scott O'Grady, a U.S. Air Force fighter pilot, made headlines. To survive after being shot down, O'Grady drew on the example of Sijan: "His strong will to survive and be free was an inspiration to every pilot I knew" (O'Grady, 1998, p. 83). Although drawn from nightmares of warfare, these examples demonstrate how human models influence our decisions and actions. We carry lessons of teachers, parents, and others with us. Their exploits, animated through stories, serve as guides to choices we make in our personal lives and at work.

Stories and Fairy Tales

Stories, like folk or fairy tales, offer more than entertainment or moral instruction for small children. They grant comfort, reassurance, direction, and hope to people of all ages. They externalize inner conflicts and tensions (Bettelheim, 1977). Stories are sometimes dismissed as the last resort of people lacking substance—like a professor accused of telling "war stories." Yet stories convey information, morals, and myths vividly and convincingly (Mitroff and Kilmann, 1975; Denning, 2005). They perpetuate values and keep feats of heroes and heroines alive. This helps account for the recent proliferation of business books linking stories and leadership (Clark, 2004; Denning, 2005; Simmons, 2006, 2007; Seely Brown, Denning, Groh, and Prusak, 2004). Barry Lopez captures poetically why stories are significant:

An example from higher education shows the sentiments a story can transmit. Joe B. Wyatt (then chancellor of Vanderbilt University) took the podium at the university's annual convocation. Several hundred professors and staff members were assembled to kick off a new school year. Wyatt wended his way through facts and figures about the university's status, recognized professors with long-term service, and awarded chairs to professors who had retired. He closed his presentation with a story:^[9]

Chancellor Wyatt paused, his eyes moving from person to person. He concluded: "And ladies and gentleman, that does not stop in second grade." His story gave emphasis to the sacred side of teaching, one of the university's core values, in an unusually dramatic way.

Stories are deeply rooted in the human experience. They are told and retold around campfires and during family reunions (Clark, 2004). David Armstrong, CEO of Armstrong International, notes that storytelling has played a commanding role in history through the teachings of Jesus, the Buddha, and Mohammed, among many others. It can play an equally potent role in contemporary organizations: "Rules, either in policy manuals or on signs, can be intimidating. But the morals in stories are invariably inviting, fun and inspiring. Through story-telling our people can know very clearly what the company believes in and what needs to be done" (Armstrong, 1992, p. 6). To Armstrong, storytelling is a simple, timeless, and memorable way to have fun, train new people, recognize accomplishments, and spread the word. Denning (2005) puts the functions of stories into eight categories:

Effective organizations are full of good stories. They often focus on the legendary exploits of corporate heroes. Marriott Hotels founder J. W. Marriott Sr. died years ago, but his presence is still felt. Stories of his unwavering commitment to customer service are told and retold. His aphorism "Take good care of your employees and they'll take good care of your customers" is still part of Marriott's philosophy. According to fable, Marriott visited new general managers and took them for a walk around the property. He pointed out broken branches, sidewalk pebbles, and obscure cobwebs. By tour's end, the new manager ended up with a long to-do list—and, more important, an indelible lesson in what mattered at Marriott.

Not all stories center on the founder or chief executive. Ritz-Carlton is famous for the upscale treatment it offers guests. "My pleasure" is employees' traditional response to requests, no matter how demanding or how trivial. One hurried guest jumped into a taxi to the airport but left his briefcase on the sidewalk. The doorman retrieved the briefcase, abandoned his post, sped to the airport, and delivered it to the panicked guest. Instead of being fired, the doorman became part of the legends and lore—a living example of the company's commitment to service (Deal and Jenkins, 1994).

Stories are a key medium for communicating corporate myths. They establish and perpetuate tradition. Recalled and embellished in formal meetings and informal coffee breaks, they convey an organization's values and identity to insiders, building confidence and support. Stories also transmit the appeal of products and services. A good story trumps data and abstractions in wooing consumers.

In the late 1990s, Subway launched an advertising campaign to establish itself as a healthful alternative to high-fat rivals: "7 under 6" summed up the message that seven of Subway's sandwiches had less than six grams of fat. But the next promotion, based on the story of Jared Fogel, worked even better. Fogel initially tipped the scales at 425 pounds. A health scare motivated him to slim down, and Subway's "7 under 6" campaign caught his attention. He created his Subway diet plan: a foot-long veggie sub for lunch, a six-inch turkey sub for dinner. His dramatic weight loss caught the attention of a franchisee as well as the national media. An advertising blitz took it from there. Subway had a 189-pound hero whose story cut a competitive edge that dramatically improved sales (Heath and Heath, 2007).

Ritual

As a symbolic act, ritual is routine that "usually has a statable purpose, but one that invariably alludes to more than it says, and has many meanings at once" (Moore and Meyerhoff, 1977, p. 5). Enacted, ritual connects an individual or group to something mystical, more than words can capture. At home and at work, ritual gives structure and meaning to each day: "We find these magical moments every day—drinking our morning coffee, reading the daily paper, eating lunch with a friend, drinking a glass of wine while admiring the sunset, or saying, 'Good night, sleep tight ... 'at bedtime. The holy in the daily; the sacred in the single act of living .... A time to do the dishes. And a time to walk the dog" (Fulghum, 1995, pp. 3, 254).

Humans create both personal and communal rituals. The ones that carry meaning become the dance of life. "Rituals anchor us to a center," Fulghum writes, "while freeing us to move on and confront the everlasting unpredictability of life. The paradox of ritual patterns and sacred habits is that they simultaneously serve as a solid footing and springboard, providing a stable dynamic in our lives" (1995, p. 261).

The power of ritual becomes palpable if one experiences the emptiness of losing it. Campbell (1988) underscores this loss: "When you lose rituals, you lose a sense of civilization; and that's why society is so out of kilter." When the Roman Catholic Church changed its liturgy from Latin to vernacular, many Catholics felt a profound loss of conviction and faith. Conversely, in 2001 and 2002, when the Catholic Church suffered a series of scandals involving sexual misbehavior by priests, shaken laypersons turned to rituals of the mass for comfort and reassurance. The Church in 2007 reversed its earlier position and gave local priests permission to conduct the mass in Latin.

Rituals of initiation induct newcomers into communal membership. "Greenhorns" encounter powerful symbolic pressures as they join a group or organization. A new member must gain entry to the inner sanctum. Transition from stranger to full-fledged member grants access to cherished organizational secrets. The key episode is the rite of passage affirming acceptance. In tribes, simply attaining puberty is insufficient for young males: "There must be an accompanying trial and appropriate ritual to mark the event. The so-called primitives had the good sense to make these trials meaningful and direct. Upon attaining puberty you killed a lion and were circumcised. After a little dancing and whatnot, you were admitted as a junior member and learned some secrets. The [men's] hut is a symbol of, and a medium for maintaining, the status quo and the good of the order" (Ritti and Funkhouser, 1982, p. 3).

We are not beyond the primitive drives, sexism, and superstition that gave rise to age-old institutions such as the men's hut. Consider the experience of a newly elected member of the U.S. House of Representatives:

That last exchange seems particularly harsh and offensive, but its multiple interpretations take us to the heart of symbolic customs. A kinder and gentler anecdote would conceal what transpires in a multilayered transaction with multiple meanings. Let's look at some possible interpretations.

One version highlights the age-old battle between the sexes. The female representative raises the specter of sexual discrimination; Hebert uses a sexist jibe to put her in her place. Another view sees the exchange as a classic give-and-take. Newcomers bring new ideas as agents of evolution and reform. Old-timers are supposed to pass along time-tested values and traditions. If newcomers succumb, an organization risks stultification and decay; if old-timers fail to induct new arrivals properly, chaos and disarray lie ahead.

As an initiation ritual, the exchange is a predictable clash between a new arrival and an established veteran. The old-timer is reminding the rookie who's in charge. Newcomers don't get free admission. The price is higher for those who, because of race, gender, or ethnicity, question or threaten existing values, norms, or patterns. Yet only a weak culture accepts newcomers without some form of hazing.

The rite of passage reinforces the existing culture while testing the newcomer's ability to become a member. As a freshman, Hillary Rodham Clinton survived her initiation and achieved full membership in the U.S. Senate when she and Senator Don Nickles, a Republican from Oklahoma, partnered on an unemployment bill in early 2003. This was impressive, since Nickles had led the effort to impeach Clinton's husband when he was president.

Initiation is one important role of ritual. But rituals also bond a group together and imbue the enterprise with traditions and values. They prepare combat pilots to slip into a fighter cockpit knowing they may not return:

Some rituals become ceremonial occasions to recognize momentous accomplishments. When Captain Sijan, mentioned earlier, received his posthumous Medal of Honor, the president of the United States attended:

Other rituals soften grief. Major Kevin Reed, a former F-16 pilot, has outlined the Air Force's comprehensive liturgy (2001). The most solemn of Air Force rituals is the death notification. Once a fatality has been confirmed, a team of three officers is dispatched to the home of the nearest relative. An officer of superior rank passes the news: "The Chief of Staff of the Air Force conveys his deep sympathies." A flight surgeon is there for physical support. A chaplain offers spiritual sustenance. The notification ritual is the first step in the consolation ceremony (p. 10).

At the other end of the scale are the numerous fun rituals, but even they have a serious side:

Ceremony

Historically, cultures have relied on ritual and ceremony to create order, clarity, and predictability—particularly around mysterious and random issues or dilemmas. The distinction between ritual and ceremony is elusive. As a rule of thumb, ritual is more everyday. Ceremonies are more episodic—grander and more elaborate—convened at times of transition or special occasions. Rain dances, harvest celebrations, and annual meetings invoke supernatural assistance in critical, unpredictable tasks of raising crops or building market share. Annual conventions renew old ties and revive deep collective commitments. "Convention centers are the basilicas of secular religion" (Fulghum, 1995, p. 96).

Both ritual and ceremony are illustrated in an account from Japan:

Ceremonies serve four major roles: they socialize, stabilize, reassure, and convey messages to external constituencies. Consider the example of Mary Kay Cosmetics. Several thousand people gather at the company's annual seminars to hear (now posthumous) personal messages from Mary Kay, to applaud the achievements of star salespeople, to hear success stories, and to celebrate. The ceremony brings new members into the fold and helps maintain faith, hope, and optimism in the Mary Kay family. It is a distinctive pageant and makes the Mary Kay culture accessible to outsiders, particularly consumers. Failure recedes and obstacles disappear in the "you can do it" spirit of the company symbol of the bumblebee—a creature that, according to mythical aerodynamics experts, should not be able to fly. Unaware of its limitations, it flies anyway.

Some events, like retirement dinners and welcoming events for new employees, are clearly ceremonial. Other ceremonies happen at moments of triumph or transition. When Phil Condit took over the reins of Boeing, he invited senior managers to his home for dinner. Afterward, the group gathered around a giant fire pit to tell stories about Boeing. Condit asked them to toss negative stories into the flames. It was an emblematic way to banish the dark side of the company's past (Deal and Key, 1998).

Condit resigned under pressure as Boeing's chairman in 2003 but returned as part of the crowd to witness the ceremonial roll-out of an aircraft his team had begun work on a decade earlier—the 787 Dreamliner. As the Seattle Times reported (July 8, 2007), "With some 15,000 people gathered Sunday inside the world's largest building—Boeing's Everett factory—and tens of thousand more watching the event live around the world—Boeing opened the hanger doors to reveal the 787 Dreamliner, the first commercial passenger plane that will have a mostly composite airframe rather than aluminum .... Those 15,000 employees, past and current executives, airline customers and others crowded around the new jet for an up-close look."

Condit mingled with employees to give and receive congratulations. Tom Brokaw served as master of ceremonies. Rock music roused the crowd. The event gave VIPs and politicians an opportunity to bask in the glory of a momentous accomplishment. As those who had launched every plane from the 707 through the 747 rubbed elbows and swapped tales, the roots of the past were fused with the joy of the present and the promise of tomorrow's next leap forward.

Ceremonies do not have to be as lavish as Boeing's introduction of the Dreamliner, of course. Every organization has its moments of achievement and atonement. Expressive events provide order and meaning and bind an organization or a society together.

Ceremony is equally evident in other social arenas. In the United States, political conventions select candidates, even though there is rarely much suspense about the outcome. Then follow several months in which competing candidates trade clichés. The same pageantry unfolds each election year. Rhetoric and spontaneous demonstrations are staged in advance. Campaigning is repetitious and superficial, reporters play up the skirmish of the day, and voting often seems disconnected from the main drama.

Even so, the process of electing a president is a momentous ceremony. It entails a sense of social involvement. It is an outlet for expression of discontent and enthusiasm. It stages live drama for citizens to witness and debate and gives millions of people a sense of participating in an exciting adventure. It lets candidates reassure the public that there are answers to our important questions and solutions to our vexing problems. It draws attention to common social ties and to the importance of accepting whichever candidate eventually wins (Edelman, 1977).

When properly conducted and attuned to valued myths, both ritual and ceremony fire the imagination and deepen faith; otherwise, they become cold, empty forms that people resent and avoid. They can release creativity and transform meanings, but they can also cement the status quo and block adaptation and learning. In some organizations, whining and complaining can evolve as rituals of choice. Negative symbols perpetuate evil, just as positive symbols reinforce goodness. Symbols cut both ways.

Metaphor, Humor, and Play

Metaphor, humor, and play illustrate the important "as if" quality of symbols. Metaphors make the strange familiar and the familiar strange. They capture subtle themes normal language can obscure. Consider these metaphors from managers asked to depict their agency as it is and as they hope it might become:

Metaphors compress complicated issues into understandable images, influencing our attitudes and actions. A university head who views the institution as a factory leads differently from one who conceives of it as a craft guild, shopping center, or beloved alma mater.

Humor also serves important functions. Indeed, Hansot (1979) argues that rather than asking why people use humor in organizations, we should ask why they are so serious. Humor plays a number of important roles: it integrates, expresses skepticism, contributes to flexibility and adaptiveness, and signals status. Though a classic device for distancing, humor also draws people together. It establishes solidarity and facilitates face saving. Above all, it is a way to illuminate and break frames, indicating that any single definition of a situation is arbitrary.

In most work settings, play and humor are sharply distinguished from work. Play is what people do away from work. Images of play among managers typically connote aggression, competition, and struggle ("We've got to beat them at their own game"; "We dropped the ball on that one"; "We knocked that one out of the park") rather than relaxation and fun. But if play is viewed as a state of mind (Bateson, 1972; Goffman, 1974), any activity can become playful. Play relaxes rules to explore alternatives, encouraging experimentation, flexibility, and creativity. Many remarkable innovations have been crafted by playful people at work. March (1976) suggests some guidelines for play in organizations: treat goals as hypotheses, intuition as real, hypocrisy as transition, memory as an enemy, and experience as a theory.

Culture: What is it? What is its role in an organization? Both questions are contested. Some argue that organizations have cultures; others insist that organizations are cultures. Schein (1992, p. 12) offers a formal definition:" a pattern of shared basic assumptions that a group learned as it solved its problems of external adaptation and integration, that has worked well enough to be considered valid and therefore to be taught to new members as the correct way to perceive, think, and feel in relation to those problems. "Deal and Kennedy (1982, p. 4) portray culture more succinctly as "the way we do things around here." Culture is both a product and a process. As a product, it embodies wisdom accumulated from experience. As a process, it is renewed and re-created as newcomers learn the old ways and eventually become teachers themselves.

There is a long-standing controversy about the relationship between culture and leadership. Do leaders shape culture, or are they shaped by it? Is symbolic leadership empowering or manipulative? Another debate swirls around the link between culture and results. Do organizations with robust cultures outperform those relying on structure and strategy? Does success breed a cohesive culture, or is it the other way around? Books like Kotter and Heskett's Corporate Culture and Performance (1992), Collins and Porras's Built to Last (1994), and Collins's Good to Great (2001) offer impressive longitudinal evidence linking culture to the financial bottom line.

Over time, an organization develops distinctive beliefs, values, and customs. Managers who understand the significance of symbols and know how to evoke spirit and soul can shape more cohesive and effective organizations—so long as the cultural patterns are aligned with the challenges of the marketplace. To be sure, culture can become a negative force, as it did at Enron. But the three examples that follow demonstrate how a positive, cohesive culture can be fashioned and perpetuated.

BMW's Dream Factory

In 1959, BMW was in a financial hole as deep as the one General Motors and Ford have occupied in recent years (Edmunson, 2006). During the 1950s, the company misjudged the consumer market, and customers shunned two new models—one too big and pricey even for the luxury market, the other a two-seater too small and impractical for the sporty crowd. BMW almost went bankrupt and came close to being acquired by Mercedes. A wealthy shareholder stepped in and, with concessions from the unions, bailed the company out. The memory of this close call is part of BMW's lore: "Near death experiences are healthy for companies. BMW has been running scared for years" (p. 4). The near-death story is continually retold and is one of the first things newcomers learn.

Old ways are particularly vulnerable in times of crisis. BMW shucked off its top-down mentality in 1959 and took on a new mind-set to guard against making the same mistake twice. A visit to BMW's Leipzig plant shows how far the company has come. The plant's modern, artsy, open-air feeling reflects the company's cultural values and demonstrates its commitment to breaking down barriers among workers, designers, engineers, and managers. Openness encourages chance encounters and a freewheeling exchange of ideas. People "meet simply because their paths cross naturally. And they say 'Ah, glad I ran into you, I have an idea'" (Edmunson, 2006, p. 1).

At BMW, the bedrock value is innovation:

Commitment to its workers is another core value of BMW. Getting a job is not easy at a company that fields two hundred thousand applications annually. Those who pass initial screening have to survive intense interviews and a day of working in teams. The goal: to screen out those who don't fit. The lucky few who are hired are thrown in the deep end of the pool, forced to rely on colleagues to learn the ropes. But once part of the BMW workforce, workers have unparalleled job security. Layoffs, a common occurrence at places like Ford and GM, don't happen at BMW. The company is loyal to its employees, and they respond in kind.

From the start, workers are indoctrinated into the BMW Way. They are steeped "with a sense of place, history and mission. Individuals from all strata of the corporation work elbow-to-elbow, creating informal networks where they can hatch even the most unorthodox ideas for making better Bimmers or boosting profits. The average BMW buyer may not know it, but he is driving a machine born of thousands of important brain-storming sessions. BMW, in fact, may be the chattiest company ever" (Edmunson, 2006, p. 2).

Rituals are a way of life at BMW—building bonds among diverse groups, connecting employees' hearts with the company's soul, and pooling far-flung ideas for better products. After BMW acquired Rolls-Royce, an assemblage of designers, engineers, marketers, and line workers was thrown together to redesign Rolls's signature Phantom. The result was a super-luxurious best-seller. When management decided to drop the Z3, a designer persuaded some other designers and engineers to join him in an "off the books, skunk-works" effort. The outcome of their collective endeavor: the successful Z4 sports car.

The flexibility of BMW's manufacturing process allows buyers to select engine types, interior configuration, and trim, customizing almost every key feature. They can change their minds up to five hours before the vehicle is assembled—and do. The assembly line logs 170,000 alterations a month. This level of personal attention lets assemblers visualize who the driver might be. Making an identical car only every nine months creates a sense of personal touch and creativity. That's a prime reason why work at BMW has meaning beyond a paycheck. Everyone's efforts are aimed at building a distinctive automobile that an owner will be proud to drive.

The vitality and cohesiveness of the idea-driven BMW culture is reflected in the company's bottom line. From its nadir in the 1950s, BMW has grown past Mercedes to become the world's largest premium carmaker (Vella, 2006). But that growth may also be its biggest vulnerability. "Losing its culture to sheer size is a major risk" (Edmunson, 2006, p. 3). The challenge is to keep nurturing recollections of 1959 as a defense against complacency.

Continental's Cultural Transformation

Across the Atlantic, the power of symbols and drama prevailed in Gordon Bethune's turnaround of Continental Airlines, once panned as the worst air carrier in the United States. In 1994, the airline ranked dead last in on-time performance, worst in mishandling luggage, highest in customer complaints, and near the bottom in overbooking. It was losing money so fast that each of Bethune's early meetings to develop plans for reform was labeled "the last supper" (Bethune and Huler, 1999).

Bethune quickly launched a series of symbolic actions to get the company headed in a new direction:

As a result of these and other actions, Continental began to haul in prestigious awards. The company received the J. D. Power Award for customer satisfaction in 1996 and 1997 and was named 1996 Airline of the Year. The same distinction was bestowed by OAG (Official Airline Guide) in 2004, along with Best Airline Based in North America and Best Executive Business Class. In 2002, the company earned spots on several of Fortune magazine's A lists: number two on "most admired global airlines," number thirty on "most admired global corporations," and number forty-two on "100 best companies to work for in America. "The magazine designated Continental the most admired global company in 2006. Equally important, the company became profitable in 1995 and has remained so despite a highly competitive airline market and the industry's chronic economic woes.

Nordstrom's Rooted Culture

Nordstrom department stores are renowned for customer service and employee satisfaction. Customers rave about its no-hassle, no-questions-asked commitment to high-quality service: "not service the way it used to be, but service that never was" (Spector and McCarthy, 1995, p. 1). Year after year, Nordstrom has been ranked at or near the top in retail service ratings (Business Week, 2007).

Founder John Nordstrom was a Swedish immigrant who settled in Seattle after an odyssey across America and a brief stint looking for gold in Alaska. He and Carl Wallin, a shoemaker, opened a shoe store. Nordstrom's sons Elmer, Everett, and Lloyd joined the business. Collectively, they anchored the firm in an enduring philosophical principle: the customer is always right. The following generations of Nordstroms expanded the business while maintaining a close connection with historical roots.

The company relies on acculturated "Nordies" to induct new employees into customer service the Nordstrom way. Newcomers begin in sales, learning traditions from the ground up: "When we are at our best, our frontline people are lieutenants because they control the business. Our competition has foot soldiers on the front line and lieutenants in the back" (Spector and McCarthy, 1995, p. 106).

Nordstrom's unique commitment to customer service is heralded in its "heroics"—tales of heroes and heroines going out of their way:

Nordstrom's commitment to customer service is reinforced in storewide rituals. Newcomers encounter the company's values in the initial employee orientation. For many years, they were given a 5″ × 8″ card labeled the "Nordstrom Employee Handbook," which listed only one rule: Use your sound judgment in all situations. Although the no-rule rule is no longer part of the company's orientation, the emphasis on pleasing the customer is still dominant. At staff meetings, sales associates compare and discuss sales techniques and role-play customer encounters.

Periodic ceremonies reinforce the company's cherished values. From the company's early years, the Nordstrom family sponsored summer picnics and Christmas dance parties, and the company continues to create occasions to celebrate customer service: "We do crazy stuff. Monthly store pow-wows serve as a kind of revival meeting, where customer letters of appreciation are read and positive achievements are recognized, while co-workers whoop and cheer for one another. Letters of complaint about Nordstrom customer service are also read over the intercom (omitting the names of offending salespeople)" (Spector and McCarthy, 1995, pp. 120, 129).

At one spirited sales meeting, a regional manager asked all present to call out their sales targets for the year, which he posted on a large chart. Then the regional manager uncovered his own target for each person. Anyone whose target was below the regional manager's was roundly booed. Those whose individual goals were higher were acclaimed with enthusiastic cheers (Spector and McCarthy, 1995).

The delicate balance of competition, cooperation, and customer service has served Nordstrom well. Its stellar identity has created a sterling image. In a sermon titled "The Gospel According to Nordstrom," one California minister "praised the retailer for carrying out the call of the gospel in ways more consistent and caring than we sometimes do in the church" (Spector and McCarthy, 1995, p. 21).

But symbolic luster must be persistently buffed to prevent the accumulating tarnish of time and change. Even though the firm continues to do well in surveys, there have been sporadic complaints in recent years about rude clerks and poor service, suggesting that Nordstrom might be slipping. It can happen quickly. Starbucks, purveyor of coffee to the world, is also known for its heartfelt, high-spirited culture. A 2007 memo from founder and chairman Howard Schultz sounded a warning about the risk of cultural slippage resulting from growth and technological change.

Starbucks had been growing at a phenomenal rate (from one hundred to thirteen thousand stores in ten years) and had recently automated its espresso makers and begun storing its coffee beans in airtight containers. These decisions made rational sense but "sacrificed the 'romance and theater' of the coffee shop experience for efficiency and profit" (Neil, 2007, p. 46). Schultz wrote: "Some people even call our stores sterile, cookie cutter, no longer reflecting the passion our partners feel about our coffee .... Stores no longer have the soul of the past and reflect a chain of stores vs. the warm feeling of a neighborhood store" (Neil, 2007, p. 46). His memo called for stopping the cultural drift: "It's time to get back to the core and make the changes that are necessary to evoke the heritage, the tradition, and passion we all have for the Starbucks' experience" (Wayne, 2007).

In contrast to traditional views emphasizing rationality, the symbolic frame highlights the tribal aspect of contemporary organizations. It centers on complexity and ambiguity and emphasizes the idea that symbols mediate the meaning of work and anchor culture. An organization's culture is built over time as members develop beliefs, values, practices, and artifacts that seem to work and are transmitted to new recruits. Defined as "the way we do things around here," culture anchors an organization's identity and sense of itself.

Myths, values, and vision bring cohesiveness, clarity, and direction in the presence of confusion and mystery. Heroes and heroines are role models for people to admire and emulate. Stories carry values and serve as powerful modes of communication and instruction. Rituals and ceremonies provide scripts for celebrating success and facing calamity. Metaphors, humor, and play offer escape from the tyranny of facts and logic; they stimulate creative alternatives to timeworn choices. Symbolic forms and activities are the basic building blocks of culture, accumulated over time to shape an organization's unique identity and character. In The Feast of Fools, Cox (1969, p. 13) summarizes: "Our links to yesterday and tomorrow depend also on the aesthetic, emotional, and symbolic aspects of human life—on saga, play, and celebration. Without festival and fantasy, man would not really be a historical being at all."