COMMENTARY

Machiavellian Reflections on Morris the Cat: Scholarship and Creativity

by Phil Harris^*

for

Legends in Marketing – Morris B. Holbrook – Volume 15:

Inspirational Applications, Part II – Scholarship and Creativity

Edited by William L. Wilkie

Sage Publications

May 2012

^*Phil Harris is Executive Dean of the Faculty of Business, Enterprise, and Lifelong Learning and holds the Westminster Chair in Marketing and Public Affairs at the University of Chester, Parkgate Road, Chester, CH1 4BJ, England, UK (00 (44) 1244-511867; p.harris@chester.ac.uk). He is the founding Co-Editor of the Journal of Public Affairs and is a member of a dozen international journal editorial and advisory boards. He has published over 150 journal articles and conference papers, and his books include China’s Market and Culture (with Xian Dao Song, 2011), The Penguin Dictionary of Marketing (2009), Lobbying and Public Affairs in the UK (2009), The Handbook of Public Affairs (with Craig Fleisher, 2005), European Business and Marketing (with Frank Macdonald, 2004), Machiavelli, Marketing and Management (with Andrew Lock and Patricia Rees, 1999), and Newer Insights into Marketing: Cross-Cultural and Cross-National Perspectives (with Camille Schuster, 1999). He was awarded the Chartered Institute of Marketing President’s Medal in 2008 for his contributions to the development of marketing internationally, and in 2011 he received a Fellowship and lifetime achievement award from the Academy of Marketing for his distinguished service to the discipline.

In forming an opinion about a ruler’s brains, the first thing is to look at the men he has around him. For when they are adequate and loyal he recognises those who are competent and keeps them loyal. When they are otherwise, the Prince is always esteemed low (The Prince, trans. A. Gilbert, 1989, p. 85).

I first came across Morris Holbrook and his remarkable work at the very memorable, now almost legendary, Marketing Eschatology Retreat held from Friday to Sunday, September 22^nd-24^th, 1995 at the St. Clements Retreat in Belfast. The retreat was hosted and organized by that wizard of the pen-and-postmodernism-and-modernity Stephen FX Brown, the late great and much missed close friend of so many Jim Bell, and the wonderful David Carson of the University of Ulster, among numerous others. Belfast was starting to come out of the period of “The Troubles,” and it was the year before my own adopted home city of Manchester was partially destroyed by an IRA Bomb. So the event was doubly poignant as we tiptoed toward peace and reconciliation out of what had been dark times. Morris nearly always signs off his correspondence with “Peace & Love,” so it seems appropriate to start with this background in assessing his work.

St. Catherine’s Retreat was a wonderfully Spartan building where many Irish priests had spent their R & R (Rest-and-Recuperation) periods, reflecting before they went back to lead their congregations. There were echoes of that wonderful, laconic UK TV Irish priest comedy series “Father Ted” with most of us sleeping in single-cell rooms on steel-framed beds with basic sheets and traditional blankets, plus a large canteen to make endless quantities of toast and tea. There was often the smell of carbolic soap in the air and sometimes a faint smell of Whiskey. It was reminiscent of what one would call a cross between a church seminary and a barracks. One could almost see Father Jack, Doughal and Mrs. Doyle-like characters all looking down on us as we tried to look at how to move consumer research forward. Regardless of these very basic facilities and the prevalent absence of luxury features, hospitality was warm. And intellectually, that weekend, we were given insights into some of the best ideas in Consumer Research.

Among those attending were a number of well-known marketing academics and researchers of which the leading North American luminaries were Morris Holbrook and Russ Belk. I met Morris at dinner and was very impressed with his grasp of the complexities and subtleties of life. I had not been aware of his work or of him until that occasion, but he seemed polymathic and almost polyphonic in his understanding of the attitudes, characteristics, and voices emanating from consumers and consumption. It was refreshing to share ideas, and I got to know him a little. He was very different from the majority I had met from the marketing profession – erudite, balanced, non-patronizing, and eager to explore what ideas you had and where you wanted to go and what drove you. He had made it to the Retreat, but only just barely, as he had to fly back to the USA before the event finished to ensure that he would be on time to meet his MBA classes at Columbia on Monday. He was committed to his students, teaching a quality course, and stimulating the skills of disciplined enquiry. His attention to observation, synthesising metaphysical ideas, and good story telling brought back in me memories of those two great observers, Erving Goffman and (of course) Niccollo Machiavelli.

I was shall we say rather amazed at the title of the paper that Morris presented at the Retreat and remember listening to his presentation, which was entitled “On Eschatology, Onanist Scatology, or Honest Catology? Cats Swinging, Scat Singing, and Cat Slinging as Riffs, Rifts, and Writs in a Catalytic Catechism for the Cataclysm.”

I did not understand it, as at that stage I probably did not have the comprehension or background to appreciate its depth, ideas, meaning, context, multi-parallel connections, or historic narrative. What was this fixation on cats about? The use of stereography and endless double pictures? One of my prized academic possessions is an early Morris Christmas card where he is dressed as a stereographic Father Christmas. The metaphoric references to jazz and to the explorations, originality, and genius of such key performers as Dizzy Gillespie? Where did the ideas for metaphysical communication come from? What were they stimulated by? What prompted the fascination with record collecting? Why the analysis of harmony and meaning? Why was there this obsession with getting it right and with doing the best you could regardless of the obstacles imposed and time required?

In this, I found almost the attention to detail of a Claude Monet, who – over and over again – would paint the same theme, whether it be haystacks, Reims Cathedral, or those endless water lilies that show his changing perception and communication of the world he observed. But even though I did not understand it, the presentation and paper stimulated me to have more conversations with Morris and to explore his written works. In fact, as Agatha Christie’s wonderful Belgian detective Hercule Poirot would say, it stimulated the “little grey cells.” On the next day, I met Morris again and asked if he would be interested in being a keynote speaker at the Academy of Marketing Conference to be held in Manchester at Manchester Metropolitan University in July 1997. He asked what the theme would be?  I said, “Marketing without Borders.” He smiled and wondered what was behind the theme? What direction? What idea? Inevitably, being a together individual, he agreed – subject to discussing the invitation with his wife Sally, whom he wanted to attend but whom he needed to consult because they both had a number of professional commitments and limited vacation time that was precious to them both to share.

Pretty soon, Morris agreed to accept the invitation and started working on the task with a vigor and attention to detail that many do not have. The first correspondence we had, once he had set to, was to suggest the best way of buying 3D glasses for his lecture. My mind boggled! He even knew the best suppliers of 3D glasses, and I seem to recall that he recommended red-and-blue cardboard glasses in flat-pack form, which we could pre-order to ensure supply and to take advantage of the best prices and shipping rates. Meanwhile, he kept asking about the definition(s) of borders and wondering whether his ideas would fit the conference. His dialogue and debate with me as the conference chair and joint organiser were courteous, meticulous, and supportive. In July 1997, along with almost 500 other marketers and conference attendees, Morris arrived and devoted his attention to greeting colleagues, to rehearsing his lecture, and to adjusting the stereographic aspects thereof. Toward this end, he worked with the resident audio-visual crew in what was the largest lecture theater in the brand new Geoffrey Manton Building. Over the couple of days of preparation for his lecture, Morris crossed the Rubicon; he was seen as the ultimate professional and perceived as being almost godlike by the technicians and the audio-visual crew who provided much-needed support. In fact, they would do almost anything for him and asked whether they could attend when he gave his keynote.

Inevitably, that day arrived, and the lecture theater was full, and a live broadcast was made available to an overflow crowd in the lecture hall next door. As people arrived, red-and-blue 3D glasses were given out, and soon the room was a mass of color-bespectacled academics and observers. Morris started his presentation by talking about borders and about how his ancestors had done highly animated “Morris Dances” to frighten the Welsh so as to discourage border crossings. He then wove a tale of how we perceive borders. What do we mean by borders and how do they affect enquiry in marketing? It was a wonderful performance – full of narrative, stimulating, and yet epitomizing a journey. A research journey full of observation, increased understanding, and depth. The lecture was recorded and published. It has been a great stimulus for those who want to explore boundaries and creativity, and I remember it as well today as when I first heard and saw it delivered in Manchester fifteen years ago.

In the present volume of work by Morris, which focuses on scholarship and creativity, one is aware of the breadth of perception and the use of metaphor throughout his publications. The analogy between playing baseball and writing quality journal articles that are under review is teased out. Mickey Mantle slugs away at getting his hits, while facing the likes of Sandy Koufax and all those other great pitchers, but never gives up. If it is good and adds knowledge, it will get through. If it is distinct and innovative, it is bound to succeed. But, for that to happen, you must believe in yourself. The anology with Bach’s 250 cantatas is used to outline how the great composer consistently produced marvellous work, but how some are more memorable than others – such as “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” (from Cantata #147 entitled Herz und Mund und Tat und Leben or Heart and Mouth and Deed and Life). Along similar lines, how many authors like all the work they have published? Surely not many. But learning and creativity have been stimulated by constant attention to peer review. Different perspectives, minds, and eyes give different views and can add to the substance and potential application of the work. Meanwhile, Morris gives guidance and advice on how to get published and on how to achieve positive hits against a remorseless pitcher (review team). And he argues that we can counteract rejection to succeed by putting all our hearts, mouths, deeds, and lives into what we do.

A major philosophical theme in this work by Morris is that, as often denied but never disproved, emotion lies at the heart of the consumption experience. He argues that the

acme of perfection in research and publication should be avoided if it entails standardized measures designed to generate generic responses according to methods homogenized by numerous prior researchers. His turtle stance of never-giving-up is a great metaphor for the new but driven researcher. His work on complexity theory, with its development of jazz and animal metaphors and with its analysis of consumption and of consumer-research publication, has added to scholarship and has stimulated us to be aware of the complexities that surround the everyday occurrences in life.

Alas, I have never been able to persuade Morris to look at my own obsessions – such as train spotting, bird watching, and collecting recordings of progressive rock, heavy metal, and requiem-masses – but we have nevertheless been able to discuss marketing and consumer

research and, thereby, to understand the world a little more. Sometimes, through red-and-blue 3D glasses.

This theme of being true to oneself is perhaps the core message and key value of Morris and his work, as found in the wonderful storey of Horton the Elephant and how Horton hatches the Mayzie Bird’s egg – illustrating the lesson of nurturance and creativity over the bird’s lazy nature. This theme is simple but profound, as Morris says, quoting Horton,

I meant what I said,

And I said what I meant:

An elephant’s faithful,

One hundred per cent.

Reference

Gilbert, A. (trans) (1989), Machiavelli: The Chief Works and Others, Vol. 1, Durham, NC: Duke University Press.