Abstract
In this essay, I scrutinize the ‘Global Britain’ project championed by the UK government since the Brexit vote and reflect on the role played by business schools in it. My argument is twofold. First, I contend the project is bound up with British imperialism, being at once the expression of a melancholic attachment to the colonial Empire of yesteryear and part of a long-standing effort to renew Britain’s imperial greatness in the so-called ‘postcolonial’ era. Second, I maintain that business schools, while notionally anti-Brexit, are complicit in the Global Britain project by virtue of propagating elements of its imperialist discourse. I conclude with some reflections on our role as scholars and educators in fostering debate on this project and challenging its imperialist underbelly.
Introduction
Since the Brexit vote in 2016, the UK government has advocated the notion of ‘Global Britain’ as a post-European vision for the country. The concept remains ill-defined 1 but is generally used to mean a Britain whose international political-economic relations are not European but, as in the days of the British Empire, global in scope. European Union (EU) membership is seen to have curtailed Britain’s prosperity while also dissolving the country’s sense of (Great) Britishness, leading the government to argue that, therefore, ‘it is time for Britain to get out into the world and rediscover its role as a great, global trading nation’ (May, 2017). 2 As part of this, the government recommends that Britain becomes ‘one of the firmest advocates for free trade anywhere in the world’ (May, 2017), embraces more fully ‘emerging markets’, and strengthens links with countries that share a ‘common’ culture, that is, Commonwealth nations and, of course, the United States.
The language of ‘Global Britain’ has become common parlance in British politics, business and the media and is also rapidly finding its way into the higher education sector. Here, the view is that UK universities should be ‘among the leading flag-bearers for Global Britain’ (Baty, 2016), an opinion increasingly shared, if not informed by, university leaders themselves. For instance, the University of Sussex vice-chancellor has argued that ‘UK universities could be vital in promoting “global Britain” around the world’ and urged the sector to think about their power to do so (Tickell, cited in Morgan, 2018). In the same vein, writing for the Foreign Office’s Global Britain blog, the vice-chancellor of the University of Reading declared that his institution was ‘proud to fly the flag for UK higher education overseas – taking the best of our home institutions to the world’ (Bell, 2017). Thus, and paradoxically, universities, while generally anti-Brexit, are being rapidly absorbed in the ‘Global Britain’ project.
In this essay, I scrutinize this project and reflect on the role played by business schools in it. My argument is twofold. First, I contend the project is inextricably bound up with British imperialism. It is at once an expression of the ‘postcolonial melancholia’ (Gilroy, 2004) afflicting British society since the dissolution of the Empire and part of a long-standing effort to renew the country’s ‘imperial greatness’ in the so-called ‘postcolonial’ era. As part of this, the project conveniently erases the egregious inequities, immiseration and violence which accompanied the growth and free trading of the Empire while also intensifying overseas military interventionism to achieve its goals. Second, based on this analysis, I maintain that business schools, while notionally anti-Brexit, are complicit in the Global Britain project by virtue of propagating elements of its imperialist discourse. They not only nurture an unquestioned commitment to ‘free trade’ but also efface the centrality of imperialism to such trade in the past and present. I conclude with some reflections on our role as scholars and educators in fostering debate on this project and challenging its imperialist underbelly.
Building Global Britain
The Global Britain project is puzzling in that when Britain was ‘global’ and ‘one of the firmest advocates for free trade’, it was a major colonial empire, one whose reach stretched from Africa and the Americas to Asia and Australasia, and also Europe if we include the colonization of Ireland. In wanting the United Kingdom to rediscover itself as a great global trading entity, the advocates of Global Britain thus betray a nostalgia for the Empire of yesteryear (cf. Lis, 2017). Such nostalgia is most clearly seen in the Brexiteers’ vision of Britain trading across the Commonwealth as an alternative to trading with Europe. It is also evident in their imperialist idiom. For instance, a few months before the Brexit vote, UKIP 3 declared that ‘[o]utside the EU, the world is our oyster, and the Commonwealth remains that precious pearl within’ (Carver, 2016). Along similar lines, in a speech delivered on 29 September 2016, Liam Fox, Secretary of State for International Trade, reminded his audience how a ‘small island perched on the edge of Europe became the world’s largest and most powerful trading nation’ (Fox, 2016). In the same vein, conservative business-focused newspaper City A.M. enthusiastically referred to Brexit as paving the way for a ‘new Elizabethan age’ (Hulsman and Frayne, 2017).
Unacknowledged in such nostalgia is the underbelly of the Empire (see, for example, Gott, 2011; also, Andrews, 2017; El-Enany, 2016). Here, it is useful to recall that the Elizabethan era unreflexively invoked by the Brexiteers was a time when Britain gained increased confidence and prosperity on the back of the transatlantic slave trade – a practice that continued until the mid-19th century. This was also when the British Queen chartered several trading companies to do business around the world, including the infamous Honourable East India Company, which, ‘[f]or a century, […] conquered, subjugated and plundered vast tracts of south Asia’ (Dalrymple, 2015). A good part of the Commonwealth – the ‘pearl’ within ‘our oyster’ – emerged from centuries of genocidal settler colonialism in lands now called Canada, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa. Fast forward to the early 20th century and one finds the Empire committing numerous atrocities in other parts of the ‘Commonwealth’: the Boer concentration camps in South Africa (1899–1902); the Amritsar massacre (1919) and the Bengal famine (1943) in India; and the torture of Mau Mau rebels in Kenya (1951–1960), to name but a few. Throughout this period, Britain was indeed a champion of free trade but, in practice, this meant the country freely selling its manufactures globally while keeping her colonies in ‘a state of infancy and vassalage’ (Friedrich List, quoted in Pallen, 2016: 6), as I elaborate below.
Against this background, one must question the Global Britain project and related claim that ‘free trade has, and will continue to, transform the world for the better’ (Fox, 2017). In the media, the project is often dismissed as mere nostalgia, with some also seeing such nostalgia as being ‘undergirded by a pervasive collective amnesia, almost as if the country has forgotten – within a mere generation – of the existence of its imperial past’ (Koram and Nisancioglu, 2017). In this vein, chief foreign affairs columnist for the Financial Times contends ‘the British have largely consigned the whole imperial experience to George Orwell’s “memory hole.” Most British people, including leading politicians, are profoundly ignorant of the country’s imperial history’ (Rachman, 2017). If memory loss is the culprit, it may be more accurate to speak of ‘selective amnesia’ since what appears to have been forgotten is not so much Britain’s imperial past – the language of the Brexiteers is suffused with imperial imagery – but rather the violence and exploitation it engendered. Indeed, and troublingly, according to a YouGov survey, most Britons feel proud of the Empire (Stone, 2016), suggesting a partial memory deficit.
A more compelling explanation, I believe, is to view Global Britain as, to borrow Paul Gilroy’s (2004) terminology, an expression of ‘postcolonial melancholia’. Gilroy (2004) argues that since the end of World War II, British life has been ‘dominated by an inability even to face, never mind actually mourn, […] the end of the empire and consequent loss of imperial prestige’(p. 90). This feeds a ‘melancholic attachment’ to the Empire but also produces ‘a resolutely air-brushed version of colonial history in which gunboat diplomacy was moral uplift, civilising missions were completed, the trains ran on time and the natives appreciated the value of stability’ (Gilroy, 2005). This, in turn, induces an ‘unhealthy and destructive postimperial hungering for renewed greatness’ (Gilroy, 2004: 95), of which the Global Britain project is in many ways symptomatic. But the air-brushing associated with such melancholia is also consciously produced precisely because ‘a sanitized history of the imperial project is required by those who wish to bring it back to life’ (Gilroy, 2004: 48). The language of Global Britain is exemplary in this respect: it systematically expunges the brutality of the imperial past from the collective memory while presenting a morally righteous view of the Empire and its free-trade ideology as a basis for the country’s future.
Cast in this light, the Global Britain project looks very suspect indeed, not least given the heritage populism and associated xenophobia it has been allied with via the Brexit campaign (Bristow and Robinson, 2018) and the longer standing racialized ‘Anglosphere’ discourse (Kenny and Pearce, 2018; Vucetic, 2011) of which it is part. The project’s logic also risks miring Britain deeper in imperialist rhetoric and military interventionism. Up to the 1970s or so, the consensus across Europe was that imperialism was no longer acceptable and indeed (arguably) ‘European nations […] discovered […] that prosperity and standard of living did not depend on “imperial greatness”’ (Aron, 1974: 260). Yet in the last few decades, Western powers, including Britain, and led by the United States, have sought to reverse this historical process, as evidenced in their revival of imperialist discourse (see, for example, Furedi, 1994) and the ‘ghastly and colossal (not to say terroristic) violence […] visited on Afghanistan and Iraq’ (Lazarus, 2006: 10) and, more recently, Libya. Moving further in this direction, the UK government has recently intensified its military build-up in the Gulf autocracies, including reopening a naval support facility in Bahrain, establishing a permanent army base in Oman and creating new defence staff centres in Dubai (Vasagar, 2016). Boris Johnson, former Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, ebulliently declared in a speech in December 2016 that ‘Britain is back east of Suez […] projecting British power worldwide’ (Johnson, 2016). These activities are all part of what Raphael and St Johns (2016) call the ‘new British imperialism in the Persian Gulf’.
This imperial revivalism goes hand in hand with Britain’s pursuit of free trade with ‘emerging markets’, an effort in effect aimed at maintaining access to those markets and ensuring the country’s various monopolies, much like in the days of the Empire, continue to dominate the world economy. For instance, it ensures access to oil and revenues from oil exploitation in the Middle East (British oil companies have operations throughout the region) and significant markets for the export of UK military equipment (a major sector of the British economy) – Saudi Arabia and the UAE being among the world’s top five importers of arms (Fleurant et al., 2017). It also secures the markets of the Gulf autocracies for the export of UK services (including higher education) – industries which the advocates of Global Britain consider key to their project. 4
Also important in this project are mid-income Commonwealth nations such as Ghana and Kenya. Evidence points to considerable efforts to restructure these countries into markets for UK services. A recent report by Global Justice Now, for instance, reveals how Britain is using ‘foreign aid’ to privatize or set up private services in their healthcare and education systems (Curtis, 2015). In the area of education, the report highlights ‘a strategy to make the privatisation of public services more “normal” in developing countries, opening up new markets for private education providers, in which UK companies are world leaders’ (see also Curtis, 2016). Various other countries are targeted in the Global Britain project, including Libya, which the Conservative government assisted in destroying during the 2011 NATO military campaign. Revealingly, Boris Johnson declared the country could be turned into ‘the next Dubai […] The only thing they’ve got to do is clear the dead bodies away and then we will be there’ (Johnson, 2017).
This then is the unspoken reality of Global Britain: not just a project to trade freely beyond Europe, but an integral part of a sustained and dangerous effort in the last few decades to satisfy a hunger for renewed imperial greatness as a basis for domestic economic prosperity. It is no surprise that, for some, ‘British imperialism remains alive and well’ (Bell, 2016: 76) although, of course, it is more accurate to speak of British ‘neo-imperialism’ or ‘neo-colonialism’. 5 The Global Britain project certainly indicates the imperialist impulse remains strong within segments of British society, and, as discussed above, entire sectors of the economy are currently being impregnated by it. This development raises important questions about how the project is being executed in, and supported by, different sectors of the economy and to what effects. In what follows, I reflect on the role of business schools in this project. Business schools are an increasingly vital component of the modern British university and hence an important window into the latter, itself considered, as noted above, a key pillar of ‘Global Britain’.
Educating for Global Britain
UK business schools are supposedly anti-Brexit (Grey, 2018), yet, paradoxically, the culture pervading them strongly resonates with the discourse of Global Britain. Encouraged by big business and accreditation agencies such as the AACSB, the general view is that the schools should be more ‘global’ (see, for example, AACSB, 2011; Ghemawat, 2008). Here, globalization means not only selling education to students from around the world and, as part of this, setting up international partnerships and satellite campuses but also globalizing the curriculum as a means of educating ‘global’ professionals, managers and leaders. Underpinning this view is an uncritical commitment to globalization and free trade ideology, in business but also in higher education. Just as the advocates of Global Britain put themselves firmly behind such ideology, we are told ‘business schools and their alumni must advocate the benefits of a globalization effort fueled by lower barriers to trade’ (AACSB, 2011: 5, emphasis added). Correspondingly, ‘all management educators [are urged] to lead within their institutions to instill in future managers a global mindset’ (AACSB, 2011: xii).
With regard to the curriculum, the narrative typically starts with the proposition that companies wish to trade freely across countries and build and manage operations accordingly, goals that, in turn, call for ‘international’ or ‘global’ management knowledge and skills. To this end, an increasing number of programmes with the label ‘international’ or ‘global’ are offered at undergraduate and postgraduate levels, with globalization-related content also being infused into generalist business curricula. Students are taught global strategy together with related topics such as international entrepreneurship, international human resource management and global leadership. As part of this, cultural-institutional differences are given much attention given these can frustrate international expansion and management but also offer a source of competitive advantage through their exploitation. In particular, students are taught to exploit cross-national wage differentials by locating parts of the supply chain in ‘emerging markets’ where labour costs (and rights) are significantly lower (see, for example, Ghemawat, 2007, 2008). In short, the curriculum promotes globalization/free trade and offers guidance on how to translate such ideology into concrete managerial action.
Noticeably absent from this dominant narrative is the centrality of imperialism to globalization/free trade, both in the past and present. As with ‘Global Britain’, students are presented with a view of the phenomenon as a neutral process benefitting all equally and as unquestionably a force for good. Yet the historical record shows otherwise. It reveals that globalization/free trade in the last 500 years or so has often been synonymous with colonialism, with Western entrepreneurs and trading companies in effect imperiously expanding across the world and violently reconfiguring overseas markets and institutions to serve their own economic goals. Tharoor (2017) states the problem clearly with specific reference to 19th-century British imperialism: Free trade was, of course, suited to the British as a slogan, since they were the best equipped to profit from it in the nineteenth century, and their guns and laws could always stifle what little competition the indigenes could attempt to mount. A globalization of equals could well have been worth celebrating, but the globalization of Empire was conducted by and above all for the colonizers, and not in the interests of the colonized. (p. 215)
Tharoor goes on to show in some detail how such reality resulted in the decimation of once thriving, world-class Indian textile and steel industries and systematically prevented autonomous local development (see also Chang, 2007). This dimension of globalization/free trade in the days of yore and associated practices of slavery, genocide and racial discrimination are typically occluded from business school curricula.
In this act of educational erasure, not only is the centrality of imperialism to the globalization/free trade of yesteryear expunged from the collective memory but the fundamental importance of the imperial past (and present) in shaping contemporary global business is also brushed over. Thus, for instance, little is said about how the ‘wage differentials’ actively sought and exploited by Western companies are rooted in colonial enterprise and sustained by present-day imperialism (see, for example, Smith, 2016). Likewise, scant attention is given to how globalization/free trade, much like in the past, operate primarily as ways of advantaging countries that ‘already dominate trade, production, services, and finance within the capitalist world’ (Harvey, 2003: 15). The history of colonialism and its role in producing this situation of unequal exchange and the racial hierarchizing underpinning it are largely left out of the curriculum. So is the ‘modern slavery’ (Crane, 2013) which accompanies contemporary globalization/free trade via the global value chains controlled by multinationals (Stringer and Michailova, 2018).
Equally neglected in the curriculum is the centrality of imperialism to the wider system of world governance promoting and structuring contemporary globalization/free trade (see, for example, Chang, 2007). Such a system is typically presented as a neutral global business environment rather than one facilitating ‘the forcing open of markets throughout the world by institutional pressures exercised through the IMF and the WTO’ (Harvey, 2003: 181), organizations established and still largely controlled by dominant Western countries. Also overlooked are related actors such as Western think-tanks (e.g. the Adam Smith Institute) and professional service multinationals whose work and lobbying significantly contribute to making the laws, rules and norms favouring and institutionalizing globalization/free trade (see, for example, Boussebaa, 2015, 2017; Boussebaa and Faulconbridge, 2016, 2019; Morgan, 2009). All these actors, in collaboration with co-opted or vassalized local elites, form an integral part of contemporary imperialisms but are largely obscured in the dominant educational narrative. This is not to mention the silence on the military apparatus propping up the system.
Thus, business schools, much like the advocates of Global Britain, preach a partial and highly sanitized view of globalization/free trade in which (neo)colonialism is of no relevance. The schools are in effect populated by, and productive of, pro-globalization ideologues. Surveying groups of business school deans and students as well as business executives on the effects of globalization, Ghemawat (2011) found that Less than 1 percent of each of the three groups characterized globalization as basically bad or mixed. Business undergraduate and graduate students tend to feel a bit less gung-ho about globalization than business school deans, but they remain significantly more so than the general population (overwhelming majorities of students end up believing that globalization is basically good). (p. 109)
This survey excludes faculty and it would be surprising to find less than 1 percent of management educators teaching that globalization is ‘good’, not least given the growth of the Critical Management Studies community in the last few decades, but Ghemawat’s findings nevertheless highlight a strong pro-globalization bias among the business school population. What Ghemawat fails to comment on, however, is that such a bias does not erupt spontaneously; it is produced by the business schools themselves (in interaction with companies and accreditation agencies). The schools in effect contribute to normalizing a pro-globalization/free-trade ideology. In so doing, they also carefully expunge the (neo)colonial context from the collective mind.
The growing body of research adopting a postcolonial theoretical lens represents an important attempt to address this problem (see, for example, Banerjee et al., 2009; Bell et al., 2017; Boussebaa et al., 2012; Prasad, 2003), but it is ‘still a somewhat quiet and tentative voice around the margins’ (Jack et al., 2011: 275) of orthodox management studies, with the narrative outlined above being by far the most predominant account. This is arguably especially the case in the sub-field of international business. Here, for instance, Boussebaa (2018) notes how the Journal of International Business Studies, the field’s top-ranked journal, ‘has thus far published only one paper informed by postcolonial theory […] and the other major IB journals do not fare much better’ (p. 196). Note also how the various reports written about business education and its globalization give – surprisingly or rather tellingly – no consideration whatsoever to the question of imperialism (see, for example, AACSB, 2011; Bradshaw, 2017), as if imperial history was of no relevance to understanding present-day globalization and as if contemporary imperialism had nothing to do with such process.
Thus, business schools are, effectively, complicit in the Global Britain project by virtue of propagating the economic-managerial elements of its imperialist discourse. In many ways, such complicity reflects, and indeed directly contributes to, a wider educational problem. As Tomlinson (2018) puts it, ‘Education in England has never included any coherent understanding of the nature of British imperialism, and subsequent de-colonisation, with all the brutalities and cruelties this entailed’. Likewise, the imperial dimension of globalization/free trade goes largely unexplained, if not tacitly glorified, in the teaching of business schools. Business school students are in effect encouraged to promote free trade and taught how to ‘go global’, exploit ‘emerging markets’ and, ultimately, achieve ‘global dominance’, with little consideration of the socio-political implications of such globaloney. In this sense, UK business schools operate – wittingly or not – as agents of ‘Global Britain’.
Conclusion
I have argued that the meaning and implications of the Global Britain project cannot be fully understood without considering the history (and actuality) of British imperialism. Concomitantly, I have suggested business schools can be viewed as advancing this project by virtue of teaching and normalizing elements of its imperialist discourse. Where should we go from here? My analysis draws attention to the importance of making visible the centrality of imperialism to ‘Global Britain’ and the ways in which it is being incorporated into, and being promoted by, various sectors of the economy. I believe this should be a core concern for management scholars, and business schools a primary research site given their importance to ‘Global Britain’.
More specifically, further research on the business school curriculum and ongoing efforts to globalize it within individual schools is required. As part of this, research is needed on the wider institutional context surrounding this development. The role of businesses, particularly multinationals, is an obvious area to scrutinize but less visible, and yet no doubt significant are accreditation agencies such as the AACSB. Research is also required at the micro (individual) level – if, as I have suggested, UK management education is shaping students as pro-globalization ideologues, then, an important line of future research might investigate the processes of identity regulation and identity work involved in this effort (see Boussebaa, 2020). Research should also focus on how the ‘flying of the flag’ of British management education overseas is responded to in the various ‘emerging markets’ being targeted by the advocates of Global Britain. Finally, a historical analysis of the evolution of UK business schools and their growing attentiveness to globalization would be useful, allowing us to clarify the roots of the association between imperialist discourse and management education: does it hark back to the first effort to establish British management education after World War II (Tiratsoo, 1998) or is it more recent, emerging from the legacy of Thatcherism and the Americanization of UK business schools (Tiratsoo, 2004)?
Here, it is important to note that my analysis is not uniquely relevant to Britain – the shadow of empire does not only hang over the United Kingdom. Other former colonial powers such as France have also been hungering for renewed imperial greatness and exhibiting identity politics not unlike that associated with the Global Britain project. One could point to other cases such as Russia and Turkey who also anchor ongoing attempts to recover ‘greatness’ in nostalgia for their lost Soviet and Ottoman empires, respectively. Particularly interesting is China, a country once subject to European powers but also one with its own history of imperialism in Asia and now a new potential superpower with major global ambitions. This is not to mention the United States’s plan to ‘make America great again’. Research is needed on such projects, how they compare with that of ‘Global Britain’ and what role business schools play in them. Comparative research may also assist in shedding light on how the apparently separate – national – projects may be entwined.
Beyond research, I believe management scholars should also intervene in their capacity as educators. I agree with Fleming and Oswick (2014) that the business school can be reconfigured as ‘a site for critical and progressive institutional change, especially pertaining to the question of pedagogy’ (p. 576). Here, it would be beneficial to introduce postcolonial approaches as a standard part of ‘international’ programmes while also infusing them into generalist business curricula. This is, of course, already being achieved by postcolonial scholars but, as mentioned above, the contribution remains on the periphery of the field and thus needs re-doubling. As part of this, efforts to influence the work of accreditation agencies are also required. These agencies have taken it upon themselves to globalize the school curriculum, yet their narrative propagates a highly sanitized, decontextualized view of globalization. I believe the question of imperialism should be injected into such a narrative. This would assist in producing a less imperialistic form of business education. It might also help in addressing the postcolonial melancholia afflicting former colonial powers and the ‘pathology of greatness’ (Gilroy, 2004: 89) and associated identity politics it engenders while also raising awareness about new forms of imperialism in the 21st century.
