The complexity and the case method

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The complexity and the case method

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Information Systems and Decision Sciences Department, University of South Florida, Tampa, Florida, USA

T. Grandon Gill

Abstract Purpose – The purpose of this paper is to propose a framework that uses complexity as a means of better understanding the role that case studies can play in the classroom and in building bridges between research and practice. Design/methodology/approach – The paper synthesizes complexity theory and the practical classroom and case writing experiences of the author into a framework. Findings – A narrow view of the impact of case studies severely limits their widespread adoption. Rather than treating a case study as a document of very limited value to an academic career, the author needs to recognize their role in building relationships between research and practice. Through these relationships, opportunities for students and two-way flows of knowledge between academia and practice can be achieved. Research limitations/implications – The framework developed assumes that domain of study is complex – involving many interacting elements taking place in a context where an objectively “right” or “best” answer is unlikely to be realized. It is less clear that it is applicable to situations where optimal procedures are available and can be taught or learned. Practical implications – A key implication of the framework is that separating the use of case studies in the classroom (i.e. case facilitation) from the development of case studies in the field (i.e. case writing) can greatly diminish their value. Social implications – The proposed framework argues for greater interaction between the academic and practitioner communities. Originality/value – The paper offers a comprehensive perspective on cases that is rarely expressed. It should be of particular value to faculty and administrators seeking to justify the development and use of case studies. Keywords Teaching, Learning, Case studies, Complexity theory, Cognition, Task analysis Paper type Viewpoint

Management Decision Vol. 52 No. 9, 2014 pp. 1564-1590 r Emerald Group Publishing Limited 0025-1747 DOI 10.1108/MD-11-2013-0575

Introduction I begin with two observations that present an apparent paradox. First, it has long been held, by institutions such as my own, that the discussion case is, at best, a weak substitute for “real” business research. Indeed, many of my colleagues question whether such cases, even when published, represent research at all. When in a generous mood, they may concede that such cases might have some value as a pedagogical device. But, as we all know, when a business academic veers off into education-related topics, the prestige of his or her research is bound to take a nose dive. Based upon this conventional wisdom, one conclusion seems unavoidable: the serious researcher should avoid developing discussion cases. Second, despite these widely held attitudes toward discussion cases, some of the most successful (and elite) business schools have made an extraordinary commitment to the development of these cases – not only for their curricula but also as a means of initiating research and building relationships with practice. Chief among these institutions is Harvard Business School (HBS), where the case method (as applied in business education) originated. While the published rankings of elite business vary

from year, driven – perhaps – by the need to sell magazines, the most telling metric of that school’s perceived desirability has remained largely unchanged. For the past ten years, the yield on HBS applicants has varied in the narrow band between 87 and 90 percent (Datar et al., 2008; HBS, 2013). This means that regardless of what other schools have accepted a candidate or what other opportunities life has presented that individual, once accepted by HBS he or she will decide to attend HBS nearly nine times out of ten. No other elite business school comes close to that mark. Naturally, it may be argued that HBS’s commitment to case studies has little to do with its attractiveness. Indeed, some have argued that the secret to its success is the admit list, not the education students receive while attending (HBS, 2008). Evidence that I have gathered seems to conflict with this, however. As part of a survey I developed for the HBS MBA class of 1982, conducted prior to its 25th and 30th reunions, alumni were asked to specify the greatest strength of the MBA program. Their responses (189 in total) to the most recent (2012) survey were as follows: .

39 percent – the case method;

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30 percent – the quality of my classmates and what I learned from them (while in school);

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11 percent – the networking opportunities it afforded me after I graduated;

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11 percent – the quality of the faculty and what I learned from them;

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1 percent – the location and facilities it offered; and

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9 percent – other.

While the significance of choosing the right collection of students is certainly evident in these results, the high regard for the case method – 30 years after graduation – is difficult to reconcile with the notion that their pedagogical impact was minor, or could have easily been achieved in other ways. In this essay, my goal is to offer an explanation for this paradox. Part of the paradox stems from misunderstandings, so I begin by looking at a collection of myths that relate to case studies and the case method. I then endeavor to distinguish the many meanings of “case study” by presenting a taxonomy of different types of cases. From there, I narrow my focus to discussion cases and introduce the concept of task complexity as a tool for identifying those circumstances under which these cases are likely to be most effective, and how complexity might influence the development and facilitation of cases. Drawing heavily upon my own experiences, I conclude by considering how an initiative that combines both developing and using discussion cases in the classroom can have a transformative impact on an institution and its students. The extraordinary benefits that can be achieved from a commitment to the case method need not be limited to large and well-endowed institutions such as HBS. Myths about case studies and the case method Much of the resistance to cases and the case method stems from apparent misunderstandings, often quite fundamental in nature. Prior to considering their potential broader impacts, it is useful to dispel some myths about cases. The challenge of this approach in one of selecting the myths to dispel. Fortunately (from my perspective), a distinguished scholar (and editor-in-chief of the respected journal Marketing Science) put together a collection of these in an article titled “Editorial: Save Research – Abandon the Case Method of Teaching” (Shugan, 2006). He provides seven

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reasons for avoiding the case method. By considering each in turn, we can learn a lot about what the case method is, and is not. 1. First, the Socratic case method is extraordinarily effective for teaching many skills (e.g. applying written law); however, it is ancient and inferior to the scientific method (Shugan, 2006, p. 113). The myth presented here is equating the Socratic method with the case method. The former describes a process dominated by direct interactions between instructor and student – in fact, Shugan (2006, p. 114) subsequently refers to it as the “Socratic Dialogue” – while the latter involves an instructor role more analogous to a conductor or choreographer (Rangan, 1995). Garvin (2003) describes the distinction as follows: Throughout the class, a primary goal is to encourage student-to-student dialogue. For this reason, business-school professors tend to pose broad, open ended questions far more than their law-school colleagues do, and to link students’ comments by highlighting points of agreement or disagreement. They also are more likely to seek commentary from experts: students whose backgrounds make them knowledgeable about a country, a company, or an issue. Instructors are also more likely to provide closure at the end of a class or unit, with a clear set of “takeaways” (p. 61).

The case method, as applied by experienced business faculty, is almost never conducted in the adversarial method popularized by movies about law schools such as 1973’s The Paper Chase. More broadly, the myth seems to imply that the scientific method is universally superior to the case method under all circumstances (at least in business) Shugan (2006, p. 113) adds: Although intuition and leadership are critical, they should not supplant careful scientific analysis. Vision is more than hunch and politics – leaders must lead in the correct direction.

There are twin assumptions here: that a case study (or its discussion in the classroom) is inconsistent with a scientific outlook and that a “correct direction” can typically be discerned from scientific study. This diverges considerably from the point of view of experienced case facilitators. Indeed, Rangan (1995, p. 2) goes so far as to assert that “the instructor should not pre-suppose that his or her point of view is the most accurate”. 2. Second, the case method weakens the link between research and classroom, removing critical incentives for relevant research (Shugan, 2006, p. 113). The assumption that underlies this myth is that a discussion case is not a form of research. While it is quite true that such cases do not employ the hypothesis testing framework typical of the so-called scientific method, they nevertheless involve (or should involve) careful observations of a particular context in the field, numerous interviews, external data gathering to produce useful exhibits and considerable synthesis. It has never been clear to me why such activities are so much less deserving of the being called rigorous than empirical research activities consisting of acquiring and analyzing large quantities of survey data (often consisting mainly of values that are superficial and/or subject to respondent misinterpretation) using computer-based tools whose underlying mathematics and limitations are, at best, only partially understood by the researcher. Allowing for the possibility that discussion case studies are a form of research, the link between research and the classroom is never stronger than when a case is discussed. Indeed, in the undergraduate case method capstone course that I teach, I had a hand in developing or supervising the development of all 11 case studies that were

used. How many faculty members can claim to have taught an undergraduate course based almost entirely on their own research? I would go so far as to argue that developing a discussion case for a particular class is probably the easiest way for a faculty member to bring his or her research into the classroom. My own experiences aside, it is also possible to identify entire fields where discussion cases have played a significant role in both research and practice. A particularly good example of this is the field of agribusiness (a term coined by HBS professors in the 1950s), whose development has consistently been fostered through discussion cases developed for executive seminars (Gill, 2013). 3. Third, surrendering teaching to those with little knowledge of the vast marketing literature cuts the quality of marketing education (Shugan, 2006, p. 113). Whether or not you consider this to be a myth depends upon certain assumptions. Generalizing this to business in general, it assumes that using the case method in the classroom involves surrendering teaching to those with little knowledge of the literature in their field. I suspect that the faculty at HBS would be distressed to learn this. I will concede, however, that it is possible to employ the case method effectively without much knowledge of the underlying research literature provided you have considerable practical experience to draw upon. I would argue, however, it is possible to similarly teach a lecture course on the research literature with little or no practical experience; we see this all too often in newly minted doctorates. So the question becomes: which provides the better educational experience? This leads to the second assumption: that the quality of your business education depends heavily on your knowledge of the research literature. I readily concede the point where the student in question being educated is a doctoral student seeking a tenure track position at a research university. Beyond that small group, however, it is considerably more difficult to make the case that knowledge of the literature is a critical contributor to educational quality. Indeed, quite a number of researchers – myself among them – have argued that the business research literature has had very limited discernable impact on practice (e.g. Davenport et al., 2003; Bennis and O’Toole, 2005; Pfeffer, 2007; Gill, 2010). Once again using HBS as an example, it was possible (in 1982, at least) to go through the entire two-year program with virtually no exposure to any research literature (aside from the 900 or so cases we discussed, which we – mistakenly? – took to be research). Given that the majority of business students are more interested in practice than in becoming academics, we should be careful about blindly accepting the assumption that knowledge of the literature is a good proxy for educational quality. 4. Fourth, the case method can teach false confidence (Shugan, 2006, p. 113). The belief that MBAs, particularly case method-educated HBS MBAs, are prone to a certain degree of arrogance is not uncommon (e.g. Mintzberg, 2004, p. 74), and – based on my experience – probably is more true than many members of that particular group would care to acknowledge. Being “scientific” about the relationship, however, we should take care in assuming cause and effect. Perhaps we were arrogant to begin with. My assessment of the relationship between the case method and false confidence is that, for most students, the process of discussing a case will have the opposite effect, if any. I base this on the pre-case/post-case protocol that I have used for many years. Prior to each discussion I give the students 20 minutes or so to provide a written answer to a question that I announce on the spot. Then, after the discussion, I ask to fill out another form with the same two questions: What are the three most important things that you learned from the case? and How did the case discussion change your understanding of


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the case? What I have found is that most students (80 percent, at a guess) report that their understanding changes considerably as a result of the discussion. Moreover, in doing so they frequently acknowledge the misconceptions that led to their original position. To me, this suggests a process that encourages the opposite of false confidence. Instead, it should instill a certain humility with respect to their initial assessment of a situation and should encourage them to consider more carefully their future decisions. 5. Fifth, we could lose our best students. Better students, who have already acquired analytical thinking skills and confidence, might seek more scientific content and technical training (Shugan, 2006, p. 113). This particular myth seems to be the result of speculation rather than any evidence, as well as being rather dismissive of the value of soft skills – somewhat surprising from a marketing professor. Again, it might well be true for students seeking training at the doctoral level but is much harder to reconcile with the facts for other degrees. How could the HBS MBA program – whose mathematical prerequisites (e.g. calculus requirements) are among the lowest among the top tier school as well as being a case method school – maintain such a high yield if all the better students are attracted to scientific/technical training? Moreover, Shugan (2006, p. 133) goes on to speculate: Similar arguments suggest a loss of potential faculty members who believe in relevant research and want synergy between their research and teaching lives.

While I certainly agree that such synergy is something to be prized, it seems to me that participating in the development of a case study and then using it in your class achieves the maximum possible synergy between teaching and research. In addition, when the protagonist of the case sits in on the discussion – which has happened for over half my discussions – synergy with practice and direct relevance is self-evident. 6. Sixth, some great research might never reach the classroom because translating it into the case-method format is too challenging (Shugan, 2006, p. 114). There are two aspects of this particular myth. The first is the assumption that an important goal of discussion case design is, or should be, that of disseminating academic research findings. This confuses the purpose of the discussion case with that of other types of cases, a topic to which I return in the next section. The true discussion case nearly always strives to describe a context in which a managerial decision needs to be made. While such cases may, and often do, offer possible approaches to the situation, they rarely identify one as being “best” – if they did, there would be no need for discussion. Thus, while such cases might provide motivation for presenting research findings that support a particular approach – be in quantitative or qualitative – the actual instruction in that approach would likely take place through other pedagogical means. The second assumption is more fundamental. It specifically relates to the audience for the findings. I would argue that any research findings that cannot be explained and illustrated in a 20-page case are unlikely to be widely applicable to practice. Diffusion of ideas between research and practice is always going to be hard; see Rogers (2003) Diffusion of Innovation for a rich set of examples of the types of barriers encountered. If the idea is so complicated that it cannot be expressed to non-researchers, these barriers are multiplied to the point of becoming insurmountable. 7. Seventh, the case method rarely exposes students to the latest tools for making better decisions (Shugan, 2006, p. 114).

Whether or not this is a myth largely depends on where the “latest tools” come from. If we are talking about tools first developed in the research literature and then applied in practice after a diffusion process, he could be right. Unfortunately, evidence suggests that particular type of diffusion almost never takes place in fields such as management and marketing (e.g. Pfeffer, 2007). Add to that the 2-3 years it takes to move from conducting research to publication in a typical top tier business journal and the term “latest” seems to be a misnomer. If we are talking about the latest tools being applied in practice the situation can be very different. Again, I use my own undergraduate MIS capstone course as an example. Of the 11 cases we developed for the initial semester, three involved what I would characterize as “cutting edge” applications of technology: one involved using biometrics to predict consumer behavior, one involved a new scheme for encrypting information and one involved a “big data” application that was under development. In all three examples, the case study was less than three weeks old when we brought it into the classroom and the decision presented in the case had yet to be made. Adding weight to this argument is the finding that where ideas do flow between business academic research and practice, the source of those ideas is far more likely to be practice (Barley et al., 1988). To quote one study: We believe that business schools – and the academics that inhabit them – have not been very effective in the creation of useful business ideas. Sure, a lot of business ideas are explored in business school research, but for the most part, they are created elsewhere and are seldom even discussed in accessible fashion by academics (Davenport et al., 2003, p. 81).

Thus, it would seem that we might be better off looking for our set of “latest tools” by going out into the field to see what practice is doing, writing it up expeditiously and getting it into the classroom quickly. In other words, develop a case study. Furthermore, if we are concerned about the needs of most of our students – and nearly all of them at the undergraduate and master’s level – exposure to the latest tools is likely to be less important than exposure to a wide variety of approaches to making business decisions. Ensuring that students are practiced in the fundamentals would seem to be far more beneficial than neglecting the basics in favor of the latest fads in research and practice. Many of Shugan’s (2006) reasons for avoiding cases seem to stem from lack of familiarity with the approach in practice. There are some, however, that are far more significant and involve deep questions relating to the subject matter we are, or should be, teaching our students. To clarify these issues, I now consider the question of complexity and how it relates to the case method. Complexity and case studies While I am certainly enthusiastic about the case method, years of experience in facilitating and writing cases have taught me respect for its weaknesses and well as strengths. I have found that a useful way of communicating these begins with a brief introduction to task complexity, followed by a taxonomy of different case types. Task complexity The term task complexity is widely used in the management literature to refer to goal-directed activities that place cognitive demands upon the task performer. Unfortunately, early efforts to define the construct (e.g. Wood, 1986; Campbell, 1988) never gained much traction. In part, this is because they had some serious internal


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inconsistencies (Gill and Hicks, 2006) that persist to this day. For our purposes here, we can think of task complexity as existing in three interrelated domains (Gill, 2010): .

What we experience. This is the aspect of complexity that exists within our minds. It includes feelings of uncertainty, ambiguity, difficulty and even motivation. It is mainly a consequence of the unfamiliarity of a task, since our minds are wired in such a way that when we practice an activity repeatedly it becomes automatic and we can do it with little or no conscious direction (Shiffrin and Dumais, 1981).

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The characteristics of the protocol that we use to perform the task. A given task may be performed in many different ways. For example, the same decision task might be made through careful deliberation or through a flip of a coin – we would expect the two protocols to differ in their complexity. Sources of protocol complexity would include the minimum size of the problem space (e.g. concepts needed, rules, procedures) required to accommodate a particular set of task contexts, the number of possible paths those contexts might require and the degree to which those paths lead to divergent outcomes. To avoid ambiguity, I use the terms complicated and complicatedness to refer to the complexity of a protocol/problem space.

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The behavior of the environment external to the task performer. Because tasks necessarily take place within a broader environment, the behavior of that environment necessarily impacts the fit between a particular task context and the protocol used to perform it. Borrowing a term from evolutionary biology (e.g. Kauffman, 1993), this leads to a fitness landscape that maps context-protocol combinations to an associated measure of desirability or survivability. Factors that impact this form of complexity include the number of entities in the external systems, the degree to which they interact and the rate at which the landscape changes over time. I use the term ruggedness to characterize complexity in this domain.

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These domains are summarized in Table I. Of the three complexity domains, the first two involve concepts that have long been incorporated into the task complexity research stream (e.g. Campbell, 1988). The third, ruggedness, requires some additional explanation. The basic idea of ruggedness is that every time we perform a task in a particular context using a particular protocol, there is an associated fitness value that somehow reflects the desirability of the context-protocol combination. What fitness actually means is subtle, and is discussed elsewhere at greater length (e.g. Gill, 2010; Gill and Hevner, 2013). For our purposes here, it will suffice to assume that the higher the fitness, the happier we are with the way the task turned out and, more importantly, the more likely we are to employ the same protocol the next time we encounter the same or similar contexts. Unfortunately, actual fitness is nearly always unknowable – at least looking forward. For this reason, we are constantly looking for ways to estimate. For example, in assessing the quality of our research, we may construct an estimate based upon the ranking of where it is published or the number of times it is cited. In assessing the fitness of an economic policy, we may look at its estimated impact on the subsequent quarter or year’s GNP. In assessing our institutions, we may rely on commercially published rankings. None of these are perfect measures. But, in the absence of knowledge of true fitness, we often come to treat them as if they were.

Typical reference disciplines

Domain

Sources

Consequences

Experienced (unfamiliarity)

Routine vs non-routine

Management Psychology

Protocol (complicatedness)

Size of problem space (e.g. number of concepts, number of rules, number and length of procedures) Path entropy (e.g. the number of paths through the problem space and the degree to which they diverge in outcome) Number of entities and attributes Degree to which they interact Effect of co-evolving systems Black Swans (Taleb, 2007)

þ Uncertainty þ Ambiguity þ Difficulty 7Motivation þ Time to learn task þ Variance in Time to perform Cost of performance Quality of performance

þ Fitness peaks þ Variation between Adjacent states Fitness of localmaxima þ Punctuated equilibrium

Evolutionary biology Complex adaptive systems

External (ruggedness)

Operations research Operations management Information systems

What we may be able to glean about a fitness landscape is its approximate shape. There are two extremes here: (1) decomposable; and (2) chaotic (maximally rugged). In a decomposable landscape, every attribute we use to describe our protocol and context impacts fitness independently. Suppose, for example, you are taking a test with ten questions, each of which has a correct answer. Then our best estimate of the fitness of our responses the test might be the total score, and the score on each question would contribute to that overall score independently. One of the most important characteristics of decomposable landscapes it that they have one, and only one, fitness peak. It exists where the individual fitness contribution of each contributor of fitness is independently maximized. As fitness landscapes increase in ruggedness, it becomes impossible to determine fitness by looking at individual components. Instead, it is combinations of attributes (of the task context and of the task protocol) that matter. A good example of this is the recipes in a cookbook. Whether or not garlic contributes to, or detracts from, the fitness of a particular recipe depends upon what you are making. It is great with lamb, not so good in cre`me brulee. A mathematical consequence of this is that many local fitness peaks emerge, which is to say combinations where any incremental change to the protocol or context leads to a reduction in fitness. Moreover, as ruggedness increases toward the chaotic, the amount of information that the fitness of a particular state provides with respect to the fitness of its nearby neighbors declines to zero. Complexity and cognitive skills The nature of the complexity facing a task performer has important implications for the likely relevance of the case method to a particular problem. Assuming the student/client


Table I. Three domains of task complexity

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starts from a state of unfamiliarity, we can envision two possible approaches to a task that can be pursued, as illustrated in Figure 1. The first involves first understanding the deep structure of the task/problem presented regardless of surface details, one of the key distinctions between expert and novice task performers (Larkin, 1981). Once there are determined, the task performer can proceed directly to a protocol that will, hopefully, result in high fitness performance. The second involves several additional steps. First, the details of the context need to be observed and internalized. Next, a desired end-state needs to be determined, based upon (imperfect) estimates of the fitness landscape. Where a fitness landscape is rugged, there are likely to be a number of alternative fitness peaks that need to be evaluated and compared. Finally, the task performer needs to determine a protocol for performing the task that fits the particular context and desired end state. For fitness landscapes that are particularly rugged, this will often entail creating a protocol rather than identifying an existing protocol, since the many possible peaks and dynamic nature of such landscapes will imply that new protocols will continually become available and old ones will cease to yield high fitness outcomes. The approach based upon starting with a protocol is likely to be very effective in highly decomposable landscapes since, by definition, the best solution – a single peak – is likely to be accessible from anywhere in the landscape though incremental steps that increase fitness (and should be relatively easy to find). Thus, determining the most desirable end-state is normally a non-issue. Where the landscape is rugged, on the other hand, finding a protocol that is a good fit with the initial context is likely to be much more challenging. As ruggedness grows, the number of combinations leading to local peaks grows correspondingly, and individual’s choices of combination are likely to be strongly influenced by initial state. For example, the set of feasible paths for initiating a successful software startup is likely to look very different for an individual with strong connections in the Silicon Valley and an individual who lives in rural Alabama and has never before left the county – even both individuals happen to have the same great idea. Furthermore, while it may be theoretically possible to devise a protocol that is effective for all possible initial contexts on a rugged landscape, the protocol would necessarily be unwieldy.

Unfamiliarity

Observe Details of Context

Understand Deep Structure of Context

Evaluate Alternative End States

Determine Applicable Protocol

Figure 1. Protocol and fitness-driven approach to task performance

Find or Create Protocol

Protocol driven approach

Apply Protocol

Fitness driven approach

For example, in a decomposable landscape impacted by 20 attributes, 20 rules (one for each attribute) would be all that was required to specify an appropriate end state. On the maximally rugged version of that landscape, on the other hand, the number of combinations of even simple yes/no attributes would be over a million (220) and, based on a simple formula provided by Kauffman (1993), the local peaks would number nearly 50,000. The complete protocol needed to ensure that the task was performed effectively from any starting point would therefore necessarily be huge. Framing this problem in another way, the two general approaches presented in Figure 1 can be described in terms of the cognitive skills required. As illustrated in Figure 2, the protocol-based path relies most heavily on the skills relating to understanding the context, applying the proper protocol and analyzing results as they are obtained over the course of the task. It is particularly well suited to domains where effective protocols are available that are either universal or whose limits of applicability are well understood. In a world where most actions can be guided by reliable protocols, I would be hard-pressed to dispute many of Shugan’s (2006) earlier assertions. The fitness-driven protocol, in contrast, depends more on the task performer’s ability to observe the details of the situation (and to remember what has been observed), create alternative protocols (where none exist already), and to evaluate the estimated fitness of alternative context-protocol combinations under conditions of uncertainty. While systematic analysis is certainly a part of effective task performance in any landscape, landscapes of low ruggedness tend to benefit dramatically from structured analytical techniques, whereas highly rugged landscapes tend to demonstrate the intrinsic limitations of general theories and analytical tools. It is for such rugged environments that the discussion case seems to be uniquely suited.


Types of case studies To expand upon the previous statement relating specifically to discussion cases, case studies can be developed that address any of the three domains of complexity just described. One of the beneficial aspects of nearly all types of case studies is that they tell a story, a method of informing that is frequently touted for its effectiveness (e.g. Akerlof and Shiller, 2009; Willingham, 2009; Heath and Heath, 2007; Guber, 2007). For this reason, many different types of case study exist. It is the rare case study, however, that is a good fit for all three domains of complexity. To reiterate, there are many types of case studies intended to accomplish a variety of distinct purposes that include: .

improving judgment under uncertainty, the principal goal of typical discussion cases (e.g. Christensen, 1991);

Emphasis of the protocol-driven approach

Better suited for low ruggedness

Creating/Synthesizing Evaluating Analyzing Applying Understanding Remembering

Emphasis of the fitness-driven approach

Better suited for high ruggedness

Source: “Synthesizing” is from Bloom et al. (1956) original taxonomy

Figure 2. Revised bloom taxonomy (Krathwohl, 2002) related to task performance approaches

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presenting concrete examples in story form in order to communicate an idea (e.g. Heath and Heath, 2007);

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analyzing, contrasting or generating theories based upon real world settings, the typical research case (e.g. Yin, 2014);

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providing realistic exercises that can be used to teach specific procedures or analysis (e.g. Herreid, 2007); and

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specify hypothetical contexts that can be employed as part of a design process (e.g. Gill, 2011), such as the use-cases used in information system design.

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Each of these categories have various sub-categories that can be further classified according to the complexity that they address and the cognitive skills that they are expected to employ (see Table II). Complexity and case research Before turning to the impact of complexity on teaching with case studies – the principal area of focus for this essay – it is useful to note that a very similar set of arguments has been presented by others with respect to the use of case studies in research. For example, Ragin’s (1997) presentation of causality in terms of Boolean logic closely parallels Kaufman’s fitness landscape formulation. As ruggedness increases the number of conjunctive (AND relationships) and disjunctive (OR relationships) required to explain a relationship between fitness (the dependent variable) and attributes (the independent variables) necessarily increases. He points out that high levels of conjunction/disjunction necessarily render the value of statistically-based observational research moot. The number of observations necessary to capture such relationships with any level of confidence is beyond what is ever likely to be plausible. Recall, for example, that over a million observations would be required to get just one single observation of every unique combination in the maximally rugged landscape with just 20 Boolean attributes. The complicatedness of protocols is similarly recognized as a challenge that large-sample, variable-based research is ill-equipped to address (Woodside et al., 2012). A particularly powerful synthesis that relates complexity to case research is found in the concluding chapter of Woodside’s (2010) Case Study Research: Theory, Methods, Practice. As shown in Table III, the relevance of each of his “12 Principles” for doing case study research to at least one form of task complexity is readily demonstrated. What this implies is that in some contexts, the use of case studies extends far beyond that of being an effective tool for conveying complex relationships; it can be vastly superior to statistically grounded techniques in discovering and analyzing these phenomena. Complexity and teaching cases Of the ten Table II types of cases, eight are routinely used in teaching. Figure 3 presents my rough approximation of a framework for where each type of case might be used most effectively. The rationale behind this framework is a follows: .

Low ruggedness, familiar tasks (bottom grid, bottom row): where the task or concept to be presented is not particularly complex in any domain, there does not seem to be any particular benefit to using case studies over lectures. Similarly, if the task is merely complicated but is already familiar to the learner, then exercise cases may be appropriate as a tool for acquiring skills through practice. Word

Type of case

Description and common usage

Discussion cases (long)

Cases that present a decision situation, including a full description of the decision context; central element of the case method Cases that present a decision situation, with only limited description of the context; increasingly being developed at institutions such as HBS (Gill, 2013) Cases that present an example of a situation and its consequences, usually to illustrate cause and effect; frequently found in textbooks and lectures Example cases skewed to highlight the positive aspect of a decision or product; often encountered on company web sites Imaginary example cases developed to teach a lesson or concept; found in fiction and sometimes used as a textbook device Reports of systematic investigations with an analysis of how cause and effect in real world settings conforms or fails to conform to existing theory; published in books and academic journals Reports of systematic investigations used to propose new theory, sometimes referred to as grounded theory (e.g. Rhine, 2009); published in books and academic journals Tutorial cases developed as the basis of a guided exercise intended to convey a particular task protocol; used by instructors in a classroom or online or provided as an online tutorial Tutorial cases developed to provide students with an opportunity to practice a particular task protocol; typically provided as an assignment A case – usually representing a hypothetical situation – intended to serve as a guide or specification for a design process; often encountered in information systems development processes

Discussion cases (short) Example cases

Showcases Fables Research cases (theory testing)

Research cases (theory building) Walkthrough cases

Exercise cases

Design case (use case)

Targeted complexity domain(s)

Principal cognitive skills being developed

Unfamiliarity Ruggedness

Remembering Evaluating Creating

Ruggedness

Evaluating Creating

Unfamiliarity

Understanding

Unfamiliarity

Remembering Understanding

Unfamiliarity

Remembering

Ruggedness Complicatedness

Analyzing Evaluating

Unfamiliarity Ruggedness Complicatedness

Analyzing Evaluating Creating

Unfamiliarity Complicatedness

Understanding Applying Analyzing

Complicatedness

Understanding Applying Analyzing

Unfamiliarity Complicatedness

Understanding Analyzing Creating

problems play a similar role in mathematics, helping learners to better apply skills already understood. .

Low ruggedness, unfamiliar tasks (top grid, bottom row): for these tasks, it is not clear that discussion is needed (since low ruggedness implies that there is a right answer, rather than a set of reasonable alternatives). The storytelling aspect of example cases may be beneficial to promote understanding if the concept is not too complicated, otherwise a more comprehensive walkthrough case may be warranted.


Table II. 10 Common types of case studies

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2. Unconscious not conscious thinking 3. Dynamic not cross sectional designs 4. Multiple routes not one model only 5. Predictive validity not only a best fitting model

6. Context not context-free 7. Conjunctive-disjunctive not compensatory decisionmaking

8. Systems thinking not independent vs dependent conditions 9. Multi-person not one-person 10. Satisfy not optimize decisions

Table III. 12 principles and their relationship to complexity

11. Unobtrusive evidence not just obtrusive interviews 12. Visual not just verbal data collection and interpretation

Relationship to task complexity Outcomes are determined by combinations (ruggedness) not by individual contributions of attribute effects Recognizes the impact of experienced complexity External complexity has a strong dynamic element (i.e. relationships can be transitory). Observing over time provides the opportunity to detect context-driven as well as agent-drive changes The existence of multiple paths is often considered the key source of complicatedness/protocol complexity (e.g. Campbell, 1988) The forward-looking orientation of case studies has been identified as one of their distinguishing features (e.g. Gill, 2013). As ruggedness grows, a high level of model fit can be an illusory byproduct of agents maximizing individual fitness (Gill and Sincich, 2008; Gill, 2012) Context is integral to combinations (see item 1) Compensatory models typically involve mappings between features (attributes) and choice, where each feature is assigned a positive or negative weight. These types of models simply cannot model certain types of logical relationships (e.g. Minsky and Papert, 1969) likely to be common in rugged landscapes, such as the exclusive OR The behavior of systems, and the interaction between them, is a principal source of external complexity, invariably leading to ruggedness Recognizes the variability between individuals that is intrinsic to experienced complexity A natural consequence of rugged landscapes, as agents tend to migrate towards local peaks that may be far from some “optimal” state Because both ruggedness and complicatedness necessarily lead to high context-sensitivity, and small changes can have outsized impact (e.g. forgetting baking powder in a cake recipe). Thus, the investigator’s actions can have a significant impact on outcomes. By the same token, it is critical to collect data on all aspects of the context being observed

Source: Woodside’s (2010, p. 397)

.

High ruggedness tasks (both grids, top row): where ruggedness is high, a choice of alternatives – either provided in the case or generated by the learners from the facts of the case – is nearly always available. For such tasks, discussion cases can generally play a role. Where the protocols related to the decision are not too complicated and the task domain is familiar, a short case is likely to suffice. Where the task context is complicated, unfamiliar or both, the more traditional longer cases are likely to be the best fit.

Perhaps the most important take-away from this framework is that your attitude toward discussion cases is most likely to be determined by your beliefs about how the world operates. If you believe that there is an intrinsic order to the business world, that for every context there is a correct protocol and that through applying the scientific method we will eventually uncover these protocols, then discussion cases are likely to

Long Discussion Cases

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hold little interest for you. Instead, it would make sense to focus your teaching efforts toward providing students with the best available toolkit and to focus your research efforts on applying the scientific method to validate existing tools and to uncover new and better tools. If, on the other hand, you happen believe – as I do – that the environments facing a manager are likely to be highly rugged, that there are few if any general rules of management that are not self-evident, that the techniques that we employ in our analysis are much more likely to produce illusions of rigor than rigor itself (Gill and Sincich, 2008; Gill, 2012), that phenomena such as punctuated equilibria, 80-20 rule distributions and Black Swans will nearly always undermine our analysis (Taleb, 2007) and that the best we do to prepare for turbulence is to acquaint ourselves with as many different patterns of environmental behavior as possible, then case discussions can easily become a favored arrow in your quiver of pedagogical tools. Discussion cases require students to simulate rational decision making in unfamiliar circumstances, typically without a procedural roadmap. That is precisely the setting that managers are likely to encounter frequently in a ruggedly complex world. Practicing the case method Before examining the broader benefits that a commitment to the case method can offer to students, faculty and institutions, it is worth briefly considering what such a commitment might involve. The key assertion that I would make is that the value of using cases in the classroom can be greatly amplified if combined with a case-writing initiative. There are two reasons for this: (1)


Writing cases gives the instructor an appreciation for the design and practical constraints associated with a discussion case. This appreciation will likely improve both the instructor’s ability to interpret cases and to facilitate them in the classroom.

Figure 3. Mapping between case types and complexity domains

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(2)

Many of the most significant benefits of the case method – for the instructor, student and institution – are most pronounced when the case-writer and instructor are one and the same.

I will amplify underlying rationale for these benefits throughout the remainder of the paper. In this section, my particular focus is on writing and facilitating cases, drawing heavily on the complexity framework just presented. Writing case studies There is a certain mystique associated with both case-writing and case facilitation. In my opinion, much of this derives from the fact that relatively few institutions provide doctoral students and faculty members with formal training in area. Because I have discussed these topics at considerably greater length elsewhere (e.g. Gill, 2011), for the purpose of this paper I will limit myself to listing some key guiding principles that I have found to be particularly useful. I begin with those related to case writing. 1. Be clear on the purpose of and audience for case that you are writing. The biggest single issue I have encountered with novice (and even experienced) case writers is that they tend to lose focus on how they plan to use the case they are writing. Consolidating related categories in the previous Table II, there are four basic uses of case studies: (1)

Example cases (including showcases and fables): these cases are typically intended to illustrate cause and effect relationships in a way that clarifies the concepts. As a consequence, they should be short, written in clear and effective language and should omit details that are only peripherally related to the main point.

(2)

Research cases (both theory testing and theory building): like example cases, these cases normally tell a complete story of cause and effect. Unlike example cases, however, their focus tends toward analyzing a concept or set of concepts, rather than simply clarifying them (although clarification can be a possible side effect). They normally incorporate a substantial body of material not directly derived from the situation or set of situations being described and analyzed (such as a literature review and theory building sections) and tend to be heavily referenced. Written in academic language, they are normally heavily referenced.

(3)

Exercise cases (including walkthrough cases and design cases): like example cases, these tend to work best when short and focussed (e.g. Herreid, 2007). They typically do not tell a complete story, however. Instead, they present a problem to be solved, often by providing a set of specific questions to be answered. In a walkthrough case, they may also provide a sequence of steps to be taken as part of a particular protocol to reach a solution.

(4)

Discussion cases (long and short): present a situation to be analyzed, most commonly with the goal of identifying an appropriate decision and subsequent plan of action (Rangan, 1995). Because they are most often developed for classroom or online use, they are normally self-contained (with few external references) and are written in language accessible to students. Because separating the significant from the insignificant is a valuable management

skill, discussion cases – particularly long discussion cases – often include interesting information that turns out to have little bearing on the decision (while not being obviously irrelevant). Theory-related content and relevant references are sometimes incorporated into an accompanying teaching note, made available only to instructors. What I have seen far too often is case submissions that attempts to serve all these uses at once: they tell a complete story, they include large sections on theory, they provide a list of questions the students should answer and they are accompanied by a teaching note with very specific guidelines for leading a discussion. In my experience, attempting to accomplish multiple case objectives at a time greatly reduces the likelihood of any of them being achieved effectively. 2. When designing and researching your case, keep your objective in mind. Achieving fit between the objectives of case you are writing and how you direct your research (e.g. conduct interviews, gather information) generally leads to a more successful outcome. Of particular concern here is the issues that are the focus of the case. For a research case, the direction will most commonly be one of remedying observed deficiencies in the research literature. For this reason, the research case-writer will normally set the agenda and must be ever-mindful not to lose focus. For example cases, the case writing process will often be initiated as a result of some communication – e.g., a conversation, a newspaper or magazine article, results from a database search – that indicates something interesting has happened, perhaps with far-reaching implications. For these cases, the researcher will guide the process in a manner that leads toward better understanding the event. Discussion cases often involve a fundamentally different development process. For the majority of discussion cases that I have written or supervised, I have chosen the organization because it appeared to be engaging in activities broadly relevant to my students (e.g. involving the use of information technology, since that is the focus of most of my courses) and because it is willing to grant me access. Upon initiating the process, however, I usually have no preconceptions regarding the specific decision that will be the focus of the case. Instead, I leave that open until I have had the opportunity to conduct an initial interview or set of interviews with the key protagonists of the case. Collaboratively, we then determine the focus of the case. This offers two key advantages over coming in with a topic already fixed in my mind: (1)

It means we will be looking at a decision that has yet to be made. This makes the case much more authentic than looking at past decisions.

(2)

It means the process of developing the case will focus on a topic of direct relevance to the organization’s participants. This should help keep their interest level high as the case development process – which can be quite time consuming – proceeds.

Fortunately, I have never met a potential protagonists who could not come up with interesting decisions to-be-made. A further difference in the research process that somewhat depends on type of case is the degree to which the case writer becomes involved in the organization being researched. For a research case, the researcher may prefer to take on the role of objective observer – particularly applicable in situations where the goal is to remain strictly faithful to the “scientific method” – or the researcher may become actively


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involved in the organization being studied, in which case the methodology can be described as “action research”. In the development of discussion cases, on the other hand, there is little justification for the case-writer to withhold his or her observations and advice. Particularly when the decision being profiled is one under consideration by the organization as the case is being developed, the comments of the case writer are welcome and can provide an incentive for the organization’s participation in the case. When such case-writer advice or observations end up being material to the decision, authenticity can be maintained by noting that intervention in the case (e.g. “A faculty member from a local university suggested [y]”). 3. Be systematic and rigorous in your research process. No matter what type of case study you are writing, the research process used to develop the case should be as rigorous as time allows. Ironically, discussion cases often prove to be a better source of new research insights than “research cases” for a couple of reasons: . The cases are not framed in a manner intended to support or refute a particular theory or set of theories. Research cases are nearly always developed to make a particular argument. Even if the authors of the case do their best to be objective, they are unlikely to include details that do not directly relate to the argument they are making. Doing so would not only detract from their arguments, it would use up valuable space, which leads to the next reason. . Discussion cases normally provide a much greater level of detail on the context than research case publications. This is largely a matter of space. The typical long-form discussion case and research article typically fall into the same size range (5,000-10,000 words). The discussion case is totally focussed on presenting the context. The research case, in the same space, would typically include a literature review, theory development, analysis (quantitative and/or qualitative) and conclusions. It is therefore unusual to see such cases devote more than a third of their space to describing the actual situation. That perhaps explains why some of the best known research cases are published as books (e.g. Allison, 1971). On a personal note, my first significant publication (Gill, 1995) came as a result of noticing that two discussion cases that I happened to facilitate back-to-back seemed to involve the same type of situation despite the fact that they were in entirely different businesses (i.e. financial services, cookie sales). Christensen and Carlile (2009) have presented examples where theory of far greater significance than my own contributions was framed though case discussions. Similar attribution of theory to discussion cases has been made in the field of agribusiness (Gill, 2013). 4. Develop discussion cases as expeditiously as possible. If you were to follow all the guidelines specified by Yin (2014) – the gold standard of research cases – it is hard to imagine a case study ever being completed in less than a year, if not a decade. Discussion cases are very different. Working on my own and with other faculty members, I have found the following: If it takes longer than a few weeks from the start of serious development to the point where a discussion case can be first be used in the classroom, it will most likely never be completed.

While this rule of thumb is probably over-broad, it highlights a serious challenge. Researchers have become accustomed to very long cycle times between conducting their research and having it published. For this reason, they frequently set aside their

research to “think about it”. This is a very bad practice with discussion cases. Not only can it lead to a loss of engagement with the organization and case protagonist, it can also mean that the decision that was the focus of the case gets made well before the case is written. 5. Focus on developing cases in your service area. For most institutions (HBS and other well-funded nationally renowned institutions being the exception), this means focussing on local cases. Rather than being a disadvantage, I have found that focussing on local cases offer a host of benefits. These include: .

it brings the cost of case development way down, since travel ceases to be an issue;

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it represents a form of community engagement, a category of activity increasingly encouraged at many schools;

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it makes it much easier to invite protagonists into the classroom the first time a case is discussed;

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it increases the students’ knowledge of local employers; and

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it facilitates the formation of long term relationships between the academic institution and the participating organization.

I return to these benefits when I specifically address the broader benefits of the case method. 6. Get started by writing discussion cases on small organizations. It is generally much easier to develop cases for small businesses and startups than it is for larger organizations. They require fewer interviews, since fewer people are involved in any given decision. The process of getting a getting case released for publication is streamlined, since you will usually be working with the CEO or owner. The participants are also generally very appreciative of faculty advice, since it can substitute for expensive consulting. Many entrepreneurs also value the opportunity to speak directly to students, who they may well view as potential employees with whom they will work directly. For example, the owner of one small IT services business, whose case I co-developed and used for two years, hired three of my students over the same period – representing 75 percent of his new hires! 7. If you have not written cases before, try to find a mentor. Even at schools such as HBS, learning to write cases tends to be more of an apprenticeship process than a program of formal training. There are a great many issues that may (or may not) require clarification in a typical case development setting. A partial list includes: .

how to locate appropriate sites;

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when and if the institutional review board (IRB) needs to become involved;

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signing non-disclosure agreements;

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whether or not to disguise a case;

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how to schedule interviews and who is responsible;

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how interview quotes are verified;

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who gets to see case drafts and approve them;

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how and when a case gets released for use and publication;


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what is the process for making minor and major changes after the case is released;

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who holds the copyright before and after publication, and what rights does the organization retain to its case; and

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if a teaching note is to be developed – a prerequisite for publication at many conferences and for many journals – what release requirements?

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Less mechanical and more delicate issues may also arise, such as what to do if what an organization is telling you appears inconsistent with your own findings and determining if a case development project has turned into a consulting project. I developed a couple of chapters plus an impossibly long checklist (Gill, 2011, pp. 379-393) that considers many of these issues, both of the routine and of the more sensitive nature. Personally, I think most new case developers should use checklists of guidelines such as these only as a last resort. Every case development process is different, and will be heavily influenced by the case writers, the policies of their institution and the individuals and policies of the organization participating in the case. Experience is likely to be the best teacher. Facilitating discussion cases Facilitating case discussions is the complement to writing cases. For the purposes of this paper, I will limit my focus here to discussion cases facilitated in a classroom (as opposed to online) setting. 1. There is no such thing as a “best” facilitation style. Given that our ability to assess precisely what has been learned through a case discussion is limited (see later comment), the current best gauge of a case facilitator’s effectiveness tends to be student reaction. Based upon my own experience, facilitators can be successful across a wide combination of styles. Among these: .

heavily planned vs heavily improvised;

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directive vs permissive;

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frequently contributing to discussion/interpreting student comments vs maximizing student “air time”;

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providing continual feedback vs not directly reacting;

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serious vs humorous;

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stern vs caring; and

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confrontational vs supportive

I could easily name facilitators who were effective at each of these extremes, as well as operating in the middle. In addition, a facilitator may choose to switch styles depending upon the particular student being engaged. For example, with my strongest students I often apply the humorous/stern/confrontational style that encourages them to challenge me. With those students who appear less comfortable participating, I will likely switch to serious/caring/supportive since I want them to keep engaging in future discussions. My conclusion is that when “an expert” asserts that some particular facilitation style should be employed, the real message being conveyed is what style he or she finds most comfortable.

2. How you facilitate a case should depend on your objectives. Asserting that different facilitation styles can all be effective is not the same as saying that they all accomplish the same learning objectives. Broadly speaking, if the facilitator believes that: the case has a “right” answer, and the answer generalizes to a broad set of situations, then the desired skills (from Figure 2) are likely to be understanding, applying and analyzing. For such learning to be achieved most efficiently, I suspect a style that is heavily planned, directive and offers frequent feedback would be the most effective approach. I describe such as approach as a walkthrough, but it has also been referred to as “lecturing” or “theorizing” a case (Rangan, 1995). Although these terms are sometimes applied pejoratively, in the absence of clear evidence related to case discussion learning outcomes I would be reluctant to pass judgment. Rangan (1995, p. 2) raises the question “how much have the students learned?” I feel the better question might be “how does the use of a case discussion to convey the material compare to a pure lecture format?” Here, a strong argument can be made that using a case compares favorably with lectures in many instances, even for procedural content, since the story format tends to be sticky (Heath and Heath, 2007). If, on the other hand, you believe that the decision has many viable solutions and that the underlying complexity exhibits a high degree of ruggedness (i.e. many peaks that change over time), then we need to get students to think about how to go about locating peaks and choosing between them. In such a context, the most important skills to be acquired are those of a general decision-making process: observing and internalizing the facts (of the case), evaluating possible alternatives and synthesizing them into a cohesive action plan (the right side of Figure 2). Here, a facilitation approach that is improvised, permissive and maximizes student input seems like a better fit. These polar opposite objectives also lend themselves to very different accompanying teaching notes. For the walkthrough approach, the teaching note is indispensable and could identify the relevant theory, provide a minute-by-minute roadmap of how the class should proceed, include a set leading questions for students to prepare in advance and, where available, specify the decisions that were actually made and resulting consequences. In other words, it would follow the conventional guidelines for writing a case study teaching note. For rugged contexts, the teaching note is frequently optional (I avoid writing them wherever they are not demanded by the outlet, and almost never read them) and is likely to be considerably less formulaic – perhaps identifying details that the facilitator might not have picked up during a quick read and, perhaps, offering analytical snippets that might be encouraged. 3. The portfolio of cases selected for a course should depend on your objectives. Using the same complicated vs rugged breakdown of the previous item, where the tasks to be conveyed are mainly complicated then a single case may suffice since we are focussing on a specific learning objective. Additionally, the more directive approach likely to be employed by the instructor in such settings requires less student experience with the pedagogy. If the goal is to get students to remember the protocol well enough to employ it in the future, then multiple cases involving the same protocol will likely improve retention. Where dealing with ruggedness is central to the learning objectives, I would be reluctant to design a course with a single case or a very small number of cases. With the exception of case method-focussed institutions such as HBS, the overhead associated with getting a group of students to engage in a true case method discussion


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can be very high, which means it may take two or three cases just to get them communicating effectively. Because my focus in such settings is to help students better observe, evaluate and synthesize the information in the case, I tend to choose a set of cases coming from very different contexts so that students don’t become trapped in patterns of decision-making that lead them to conclude there is a right answer. Since I teach mainly capstone courses, I also occasionally include a case or two where the “conventional wisdom” that they may have acquired in previous courses completely falls apart. 4. Do not expect to obtain a replicable and objective measure of learning from case discussions. Perhaps the most frustrating aspect of the case method is the difficulty associated with measuring what students actually learned. On the one hand, I have consistently observed significant positive results from student self-assessments of learning (such as the Student Assessment of Learning Gains, a.k.a. SALG, instrument; Gill and Ritzhaupt, 2013). As suggested by the HBS reunion survey data presented in the introduction, this perception appears to be enduring. In contrast, my experience with a variety of pre-test/post-test instruments – both existing and ones that I devised and tested – has been frustrating. My most recent attempt involved a set of mini-cases administered before and after the undergraduate capstone course I was teaching. These were evaluated under a careful double blind protocol as part of a research project sponsored by the National Science Foundation. The first application, in spring 2012, was highly successful and showed statistically significant improvement in virtually all of the core skills assessed (Gill and Ritzhaupt, 2013). I then replicated the test in fall 2013 and spring 2013 and found no statistically significant results. Interestingly, the results of SALG instrument that was used in parallel were virtually indistinguishable for the three semesters, as was the discussion protocol and the collection of cases discussed, suggesting that the experimental replication was close as one is ever likely to get in an educational setting. My current working hypothesis is that the evaluation instrument I devised was more sensitive to the conditions under which it was administered (e.g. could students leave after filling out the instrument or were they required to stay in the classroom for the full allotted time) than it was to incremental learning. My purpose in relating this information is two-fold. First, I would encourage faculty members planning to employ the case method to avoid being overconfident about their ability to objectively measure learning. To be safe, it would be wise to ensure that student self-assessments of learning are included in any protocol developed to evaluate the effectiveness of the technique. Second, I would like to highlight the need for further research in the objective evaluation of learning in case method courses. 5. Expect volatility in student evaluations of instruction. Perhaps regrettably, many institutions place great stock in student evaluations of learning. Where an instructor uses the prevailing institutional pedagogy, most often lecturing, the variance in his or her student evaluations not accounted for by the teaching itself is likely to result from the mix of students in a particular class. At most institutions – outside of those schools that emphasize the case method in their programs – a course that faithfully employs the case method will be a rarity. That adds another source of variance: the student’s reaction to the novel pedagogy. As a practical matter, this means that the faculty member employing the case method is very likely to experience greater variability in student evaluations for case method classes than for other classes. For example, consider my favorite and least

favorite comments from my undergraduate capstone the first time I taught it (Gill and Ritzhaupt, 2013, p. 81): .

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Favorite: the class was a major refresher compared to the other courses. The instructor treated all students as adults rather than children. His teaching method was very “rebellious” for this school. Allowing the students to act out and show what they know vs lectures and exams made the class a great experience. Least favorite: wasted money on a class to learn nothing – case studies which taught me nothing [y].

My overall experience has been that favorable reactions to the case method far outweigh the few negative reactions. But facilitators just starting to use the case method in their classes should be cognizant of the fact that they are likely be held personally accountable by students for their decision to depart from the norm, both positively and negatively. 6. Bring protagonists into the classroom. A particular benefit of facilitating cases that you or a colleague has written is that the protagonists of the case can frequently be induced to sit in on the discussion, particularly the first or second time a case is discussed. This is a unique opportunity provided by home-grown cases and is hugely popular with students. For example, in my 22 item SALG instrument, the self-assessed learning score for “Protagonists sitting in as guests” was 4.66 (on a 1 to 5 scale going from 1 ¼ not at all helpful to 5 ¼ helped a great deal), second only to “Understanding real world issues” (4.77) on an instrument where any score over 3 is considered quite positive (Gill and Ritzhaupt, 2013, p. 82). The way a case discussion allows us to bring together researchers, students and practitioners is at the heart of the broader impacts of the case method, the concluding topic. Conclusion: broader impacts The ruggedness form of complexity presents some significant challenges to the faculty researcher, to the practitioner and to the student. Simple rules and frameworks do not hold for many contexts. Rules and frameworks that apply generally are too convoluted to communicate effectively, and are continuously changing. When this type of complexity is high, it is often more efficient to develop your own set of rules and frameworks to address a particular situation as opposed to using existing theory. This is not to imply that ruggedness implies randomness; a particular point on a rugged landscape will often exhibit predictable behaviors – at least for while y But it does suggest that a participant in such environments can benefit greatly from learning how to devise his or her own mini-experiments to test local behaviors, from developing the conceptual skills necessary to build a mental model of the environment and from becoming adept at acquiring insights from other participants sharing the same environment. While the case method is certainly far from perfect in presenting students with opportunities to develop such skills, it represents a significant improvement over many competing pedagogies that focus on one-way delivery of content. Viewing the case method purely in terms of its pedagogical implications is unnecessarily limiting, however. Just as ruggedness presents a barrier between the instructor and students, it also presents a serious barrier to informing between researchers and practitioners. The researcher seeks to discover and communicate


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general rules and frameworks, but is not held accountable for their failure when applied in practice. The practitioner is particularly concerned with addressing real world contexts, most of which seem sufficiently unique in their particulars that they are perceived to be unlikely to generalize. A side effect of this barrier is the almost complete lack of communications between management and researchers in many business disciplines (e.g. Pfeffer, 2007). Figure 4 illustrates how lectures, the case method and the case method as applied in my recent capstone course differ in their informing patterns: .

The lecture course is dominated by a one-way flow of information from faculty to students. Less significant flows may occur as students take what they learned and bring it to the job, from practice to the researcher who wrote the textbook and from the researcher/textbook author to the instructor who uses the textbook.

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The case method employing externally developed cases (center) provides three richer interactive flows: between the facilitator and students, between the students themselves and between the case writer and the practitioner protagonist. Because each case presents a unique situation, there is also a strong one-way flow from the case writer to the facilitator.

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In the capstone course that I developed with support of other faculty members (right), we add the flows resulting from the facilitator and colleagues developing the cases being used and from the protagonists sitting in on the discussion. This provides rich flows between faculty colleagues, between students and the practitioner and between the facilitator and the protagonist. In the capstone course that was profiled, some of the cases were also discussed in an executive program, resulting in a practice-to-practice flow of the type that proved central in the evolution of the agribusiness field (Gill, 2013).

Schools such as HBS have long capitalized on the type of informing relationships that an active case writing program facilitates. The steps required to move from case writer to consultant to board member are not terribly large, and at HBS they constitute a well-worn path. Not surprisingly, schools such as HBS can therefore argue convincingly that their research is familiar to at least some managers. In effect, their program of case development has helped them to develop a network through which research ideas can flow in both directions. What I have argued in this essay is that there is no reason that schools such as HBS should have a monopoly on this type of informing system. Specifically: .

Writing discussion cases is simply another form of research, even though some “researchers” admittedly will not deign to call it that. Admittedly, there are some important differences in the skills most beneficial for this type of research when contrasted with much of the literature and survey-driven research we see published today. To be an effective case researcher, you need to hone your skills of observation in the field, write in a manner that clarifies rather than obscures and, most importantly, understand the purpose for which you are writing in and build that purpose into your design.

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Facilitating cases is not a magical art form, and there is no “correct” style. With a little bit of experimentation, most faculty members will be able to arrive at a style that works for them. It simply involves a bit of risk taking and, once again, knowing what learning goals you are trying to accomplish.

Practitioners

Researchers and Textbook Authors

Practitioners

Case writers

Case Method Course (with purchased cases)

Students

Facilitators

Source: Adapted from Gill and Ritzhaupt (2013, p. 74)

Large Lecture Course

Students

Instructors

Practitioners

Case Method Course (with locally developed cases)

Students

Facilitators and Case writers


Figure 4. Informing patterns and the case method

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.

Regional universities, in particular, have a huge advantage over elite universities in terms of gaining access to case sites. Not only does developing local cases minimize travel costs, it also provides organizations with greater access to their most likely hiring pool. As mentioned earlier, just one small business whose case was developed for our undergraduate capstone program ended up hiring three of our students – all of whom became familiar with the company as a consequence of the case discussion.

In the final analysis, the attractiveness of an institutional initiative favoring case writing and facilitation will depend heavily on the perspectives of the faculty involved. Where researchers believe that nearly all behavior of the economic world is governed by general principles – principles that will eventually be uncovered through systematic research that applies the scientific method – the use of case studies is likely to be relegated to a few contexts, such as illustrating business situations and providing concrete walkthroughs to students. Where the “business is like physics” perspective dominates, the case method is unlikely to flourish and developing discussion cases will be viewed as, at best, a minor activity if not a distraction. In contrast, where researchers perceive the world to be ruggedly complex, blind adherence to the protocols of the scientific method seems mismatched with reality: far more rigorous in appearance than in fact (Gill, 2010), prone to replication failures (e.g. Hubbard and Armstrong, 1994; Hubbard and Vetter, 1996; Evanschitzky et al., 2007), ignored by those who are in a position to apply it (Pfeffer, 2007). In such a world, the types of learning fostered by case discussions and the types of relationships enabled by the case development process will provide an avenue for far greater impact than journal articles. Some of the world’s most prestigious business schools have grown to pre-eminence through applying precisely such a process. It is my hope that this essay provides a rationale that will encourage other institutions to adopt a similar strategy, tailored to their local needs. References Akerlof, G.A. and Shiller, R.J. (2009), Animal Spirits: How Human Psychology Drives the Economy and Why It Matters for Global Capitalism, Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ. Allison, G.T. (1971), Essence of Decision: Explaining the Cuban Missile Crisis, Little, Brown and Co., Boston, MA. Barley, S.R., Meyer, G.W. and Gash, D.C. (1988), “Cultures of culture: academics, practitioners and the pragmatics of normative control”, Administrative Science Quarterly, Vol. 33 No. 1, pp. 24-60. Bennis, W.G. and O’Toole, J. (2005), “How business schools lost their way”, Harvard Business Review, Vol. 83 No. 5, pp. 1-10. Bloom, B.S., Engelhart, M.D., Furst, E.J., Hill, W.H. and Krathwohl, D.R. (Eds) (1956), Taxonomy of Educational Objectives: The Classification of Educational Goals Handbook 1: Cognitive domain, David McKay, New York, NY. Campbell, D.J. (1988), “Task complexity: a review and analysis”, Academy of Management Review, Vol. 13 No. 1, pp. 40-52. Christensen, C.M. and Carlile, P.R. (2009), “Course research: using the case method to build and teach management theory”, Academy of Management Learning & Education, Vol. 8 No. 2, pp. 240-251. Christensen, C.R. (1991), “The discussion teacher in action”, in Christensen, C.M., Garvin, D. and Sweet, A. (Eds), Education for Judgment: The Artistry of Discussion Leadership, Harvard Business School Press, Boston, MA, pp. 153-172.

Datar, S.M., Garvin, D.A. and Knoop, C. (2008), “Harvard Business School”, Harvard Business School Publishing, Boston, MA. Davenport, T.H., Prusak, L. and Wilson, H.J. (2003), What’s the Big Idea? Creating and Capitalizing on the Best Management Thinking, Harvard Business School Press, Boston, MA. Evanschitzky, H., Baumgarth, C., Hubbard, R. and Armstrong, J.S. (2007), “Replication research’s disturbing trend”, Journal of Business Research, Vol. 60 No. 4, pp. 411-415.


Garvin, D.A. (2003), “Making the case: professional education for the world of practice”, Harvard Magazine, Vol. 106 No. 1, pp. 56-65, 107. Gill, T.G. (1995), “High tech hidebound: case studies of information technologies that inhibited organizational learning”, Accounting, Management. & Information Technologies, Vol. 5 No. 1, pp. 41-60. Gill, T.G. (2010), Informing Business: Research and Education on a Rugged Landscape, Informing Science Press, Santa Rosa, CA. Gill, T.G. (2011), Informing with the Case Method, Informing Science Press, Santa Rosa, CA. Gill, T.G. (2012), “Informing on a rugged landscape: homophily versus expertise”, Informing Science: The International Journal of an Emerging Transdiscipline, Vol. 15, pp. 49-91.

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MD 52,9

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Larkin, J.H. (1981), “Enriching formal knowledge: a model for learning to solve textbook physics problems”, in Anderson, J.R. (Ed.), Cognitive Skills and Their Acquisition, Lawrence Earlbaum Hillsdale, NJ, pp. 311-334. Minsky, M. and Papert, S. (1969), Perceptrons, MIT Press, Cambridge, MA. Mintzberg, H. (2004), Managers not MBAs, Berrett-Koehler, San Francisco, CA. Pfeffer, J. (2007), “A modest proposal: how we might change the process and product of managerial research”, Academy of Management Journal, Vol. 50 No. 6, pp. 1334-1345. Ragin, C.C. (1997), “Turning the tables: how case-oriented research challenges variable-oriented research”, Comparative Social Research, Vol. 16, pp. 27-42. Rangan, K. (1995), “Choreographing a case class”, HBS Case Note, 9-595-074, Harvard Business School Publishing, Boston, MA. Rhine, J. (2009), “What is grounded theory”, Grounded Theory Institute, available at: www.groundedtheory.com/what-is-gt.aspx (accessed March 16, 2010). Rogers, E.M. (2003), Diffusion of Innovations, Free Press, New York, NY. Shiffrin, R.M. and Dumais, S.T. (1981), “The development of automatism”, in Anderson, J.R. (Ed.), Cognitive Skills and Their Acquisition, Lawrence Earlbaum, Hillsdale, NJ, pp. 111-140. Shugan, S.M. (2006), “Editorial: save research – abandon the case method of teaching”, Marketing Science, Vol. 25 No. 2, pp. 109-115. Taleb, N.N. (2007), The Black Swan, Random House, New York, NY. Willingham, D.T. (2009), Why Don’t Students Like School? Jossey Bass, San Francisco, CA. Wood, R. (1986), “Task complexity: definition of the construct”, Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes, Vol. 37 No. 1, pp. 60-82. Woodside, A.G. (2010), Case Study Research: Theory, Methods, Practice, Emerald, Bingley. Woodside, A.G., Ko, E. and Huan, T.C. (2012), “The new logic in building isomorphic theory of management decision realities”, Management Decision, Vol. 50 No. 5, pp. 765-777. Yin, R.K. (2014), Case research: Design and Methods, 5th ed., Sage, Thousand Oaks, CA. Corresponding author Professor T. Grandon Gill can be contacted at: [email protected]

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The complexity and the case method

The complexity and the case method

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