Skills, Training and Human Resource Development: A Critical Text

Richard Holden (Leeds Business School,Leeds Metropolitan University, Leeds, UK)

Education + Training

ISSN: 0040-0912

Article publication date: 18 September 2007

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Citation

Holden, R. (2007), "Skills, Training and Human Resource Development: A Critical Text", Education + Training, Vol. 49 No. 7, pp. 586-588. https://doi.org/10.1108/00400910710832023

Publisher

:

Emerald Group Publishing Limited

Copyright © 2007, Emerald Group Publishing Limited


Towards the end of last year, I attended a one day event on the Leitch Review[1]. The final report had just been published. After several panel speakers had completed their eulogies there was the opportunity for audience questions and discussion. Somewhat frustrated that these “panel” contributions had lacked any sort of critical edge I took a deep breath and asked a question. I suggested that in the context of the rhetoric of “demand led” training Leitch had not given sufficient attention to the issue of companies successfully operating on the basis of a strategy of driving down costs and low skills. Was it not entirely rational for some companies, in some sectors, not to train? A rather awkward silence prevailed. I felt a bit like I had joined a funeral service dressed in floral beach gear. A couple of panel speakers fudged some sort of reply and proceedings swiftly moved onto “safer” ground.

The reason I cite this incident in the context of this book review is to say “thank goodness for Irena Grugulis !” I only wish I had had a hundred or so advanced copies for distribution at the event. As the sub title of the book indicates this is a critical text. Grugulis asks crucial questions about the relationship between training and HRD and skills, the nature of work and the contribution of such within the economy. Grugulis does not underestimate the importance of skill; it is “embedded in the employment relationship”. Fundamentally, though, she avoids any sort of evaluation of skills that results in a simplistic outcome that every organisation in the land must spend more on training or go bust:

Increases or decreases in skill levels do not rest simply on individuals' expertise or the introduction of new technology but on the way those skills are used and the technology is designed … essentially questions of skill are inextricably intertwined with issues of work‐place governance, product markets and organisational strategies.

An introductory chapter addresses the broad issue of skills at work; the important yet complex way in which skills affect both the quality of working life for the individual and the performance and productivity of the organisation. Grugulis then devotes attention more specifically to a range of sub themes: international vocational education and training systems, the changing nature of skill; “new” skills; organisation culture; gender and ethnic minority issues in relation to skills, and knowledge management. Throughout each of the chapters Grugulis debunks certain myths, challenges “orthodox” thinking and questions the unitarist perspective on the management of work and organisations. So, for example, in relation to “soft” skills she not only discusses the difficulties of measurement but also discusses how “soft skills” are part of a more complex make up that includes identity, race, class and gender. Disadvantages faced by workers who are not in the majority or the most high‐status social groups may be multiplied when it comes to their requirements to display, and be assessed, on their “soft” skill capabilities. Similarly, in her excellent chapter on knowledge management the author provides the reader with both a detailed examination of the notion itself, its components (e.g. tacit, explicit) and devotes a considerable part of the chapter to a critique of its implications for HRD. Importantly, Grugulis lays stress on the point of exaggerated claims for the numbers of knowledge workers. Indeed, the pressures on a number of organisations may well be to ensure that this “knowledge work” is tightly restricted to a small group of employees. Even in sectors where organisations supposedly compete on “knowledge” the reality of working life for many may well fall far short of the rhetoric. As Grugulis notes:

Pharmaceutical companies will rely on their R&D departments to discover and innovate but these innovations are likely to be produced in bulk by factories where work is Taylorised and discretion limited.

If pushed to identify a weakness I would say that the book misses an opportunity to take a more focused look at the ever increasing number of graduates being produced by countries like the UK. In the context of the compelling line of enquiry Grugulis uses to encourage us to take a more careful and considered view about skill utilisation such a focus would have been entirely appropriate. In a similar vein it was a pity the “look ahead” in the final chapter was not developed rather more. Grugulis asks “perhaps the question should be not what is happening but what should happen”? Her notion of “developing resourceful humans” ensures the book ends upon a positive, if somewhat unexplored, note.

Of course, Grugulis is not the first to take a critical look at training and HRD in the context of skills. Most notably one might cite the likes of Ewart Keep, Helen Rainbird Phillip Brown and Anthony Hesketh. Hopefully, though, this text positioned as a more “mainstream” HRD text will ensure the discussion and debate central to this book enjoys a higher profile and wider readership.

In sharp contrast to the questioning approach adopted by Grugulis in relation to the knowledge economy it is a fundamental assumption for Bjorn Bjerke in understanding entrepreneurship. Bjerke is clear: because of a seismic shift to a knowledge economy, in which knowledge workers are the dominant group in the workforce, we now live in a “new entrepreneurial society”. That this is accepted almost unquestioningly is a problem. However, this aside, the book is an interesting and thoughtful contribution to the literature. Bjerke is at pains to argue that his key task is to “understand” entrepreneurship not “explain” it. He argues powerfully that there is more than a semantic nicety here. The latter is based in the positivist tradition which enables us to “freeze” reality and proceed to measure it and identify social laws and relationships. It is from such a tradition, Berjke argues, that we might generate a nice model of business start up, neatly compartmentalised into several levels. In contrast, if we see reality as socially constructed the task becomes much more one of interpretation, in which language and culture are the means by which we can make kind of sense of messy and complex phenomena. Unsurprisingly Bjerke is thus of the view that it is qualitative research enquiry that is most likely to generate the valuable insight.

My fairly rudimentary reading of the debates around entrepreneurship in the UK suggests a number of key tensions. One, for example, is the extent to which we equate entrepreneurship with small business management. Another, particularly in the context of education, is entrepreneurship and enterprise. They are, of course, closely interrelated which adds to the problem of reaching some sense of clarity. Bjerke himself is clear where he stands in terms of the first. Entrepreneurship is about starting a business venture, management is about helping it survive. However, in terms of the second an ambiguity prevails. A major section in the middle of the book discusses entrepreneurs in the context of “sense making” “language making” and “culture making”. Bjerke argues there is not a “typical” entrepreneur. Indeed, at one point Bjerke asserts that “entrepreneurship belongs to the whole of society not only to its economy” and that “entrepreneurship is closer to art and aesthetics than science and mathematics”. Yet elsewhere entrepreneurship is the preserve of that small band of folk who “create” a new business venture. The point I am making is that that this tension exists implicitly in the book. Bjerke fails to discuss clearly and openly whether there is case for a wider view of entrepreneurial activity outside of the start‐up business world.

It is also in this context that I was particularly interested in Bjerke's final chapter: “Can entrepreneurship be taught?” The tensions noted above muddy this debate also. The chapter presents some interesting examples of entrepreneurship education programmes in various countries. However, scepticism prevails that entrepreneurship can be taught “in the traditional sense of the term”. I have some considerable sympathy with this view having seen at first hand efforts by my own institution to equip students with a “tool bag” of entrepreneurial skills in readiness for start‐up. However, Bjerke does assert that education can seek to foster or inspire a state of mind, an entrepreneurial “way of life”. A one year masters programme, started by the author, is described in detail. This provides a valuable insight into a programme which to a large extent eschews the importance of things like “business plans” and other start‐up paraphernalia. There are useful insights into how higher education generally could usefully seek to encourage students to reflect upon a sense of entrepreneurial identity within different areas of business and, more specifically, encourage students to engage with questions about what it may be like to be a graduate entrepreneur.

Notes

Prosperity for all in the global economy‐world class skills; Final Report, HMSO, 2006.

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