For them, the explicit goals are merely a source of identity and a pretext to meet people professing similar values; for them, the community is the real goal. If they had a magic button which would instantly solve the problem, making the organization obviously obsolete, they wouldn’t push it. The people who are serious about the goal would love to see it completed as soon as possible, so they can move to some other goals.
Doesn’t that mean that these people would tend to undermine the goals of the actually goal-oriented group?
If the goal is difficult and takes a lot of time, all they have to do is to ensure the group advances very very slowly by being generally inefficient, so the goal remains safely in the future. If the goal is not well-defined, they can increase the scope. But if the goal is reasonably clear and becomes easy to reach, I would not be surprised by direct sabotage; with a “good” irrational excuse, of course.
(Connotationally: Increasing the scope of the goal is not a bad thing per se. Sometimes achieving X is good, and achieving Y is even better. The question is whether the group will honestly admit that X has been achieved and now they are moving towards a new goal. Because at that moment, some members might leave the group, if they decide they have some other option Z, which is for them less important than X, but more important than Y. The group can pretend that Y is the same thing as X to prevent sudden changes of membership and changes of strategy; in other words to prevent disruptions of its social life.)
I have some examples in my mind, but as it happens in real life, there were also other factors involved, so the outcome can be explained in different ways. Seems to me that the organization as a whole usually reacts by adopting new goals. It usually has enough time to sense the “danger” of completing the existing goals. But if completing a specific subgoal would change how the organization works internally, that specific goal can be sabotaged. For example, if the subgoal is to make the organization more efficient, which would conflict with existing personal desires of some members.
As a specific example from my life, there was a science fiction magazine with volunteer editors; each of those editors had their own section. The magazine had some readership, but only a fraction of the possible market. It seemed than unless the situation improves, the magazine will not survive economically. Some sci-fi fans reported that the magazine contains a lot of things they don’t care about, and ignores some topics they do; which is why they ignore the only sci-fi magazine written in their language, and instead buy magazines from other countries, even if it is more costly and inconvenient. Even worse, some of those few fans that subscribed to the magazine, reported they mostly did it for kinda patriotic duty of supporting the only sci-fi magazine in their country; but they also were dissatisfied with how the content was selected.
So the magazine had a new subgoal: research the market, find out what the sci-fi fans in our country care about, and modify the content of the magazine accordingly. Otherwise, the whole magazine is doomed. All editors agreed that this was a critical thing, and then most of them ignored the topic completely. The two or three people who cared, created a questionnaire about the contents (“please rate how much you liked the story or report X?” “is this the kind of content that makes you buy our magazine?”) and suggested sending the questionnaire to our subscribers, the most loyal group of customers, pleading them to provide a necessary feedback for the magazine. Everyone agreed that this is a good thing, but when the next issue of the magazine was sent to subscribers, the questionnaire was omitted, by mistake. So the questionnaire was updated to reflect the contents of the next issue; and then it was omitted by mistake, again. Suspecting that the mistakes might not be completely accidental, the authors updated the questionnaire to be timeless; questions like “please list 3 stories or reports in this issue that you liked most, and 1 story or report that you liked least” could be inserted in any issue. So if another mistake would happen, as indeed it did, it did not mean more work to the authors; the questionnaire was still there, ready and available for any of the following issues. Finally, the questionnaire was sent to the subscribers, we received surprisingly many responses, and then… the responses were lost and no one ever saw them again. Within a year, most editors developed a false memory that the results of the questionnaire reflected that the readers prefer the contents of the magazine exactly as it is now, so the question is settled satisfactorily, and we should not waste time discussing it anymore. And the whole topic became a taboo. Here is the happy ending: The readership dropped, but the magazine later received a generous government funding, so it actually does not need readers anymore; ten years later, it still exists.
My interpretation of the whole story is that changing the contents of magazine would mean telling some editors to stop writing, because the customers did not want to read what they wrote, and instead they wanted some topics none of the current editors cared about. The harmony among the editors was more important than the survival of the magazine. Socially, the strategy was a success. At the end, the loyal editors managed to keep their sections as they liked them; and those who have rocked the boat, have gradually left the boat, so they don’t matter anymore. The government money removed the only non-social feedback channel from the outside world.
Doesn’t that mean that these people would tend to undermine the goals of the actually goal-oriented group?
If the goal is difficult and takes a lot of time, all they have to do is to ensure the group advances very very slowly by being generally inefficient, so the goal remains safely in the future. If the goal is not well-defined, they can increase the scope. But if the goal is reasonably clear and becomes easy to reach, I would not be surprised by direct sabotage; with a “good” irrational excuse, of course.
(Connotationally: Increasing the scope of the goal is not a bad thing per se. Sometimes achieving X is good, and achieving Y is even better. The question is whether the group will honestly admit that X has been achieved and now they are moving towards a new goal. Because at that moment, some members might leave the group, if they decide they have some other option Z, which is for them less important than X, but more important than Y. The group can pretend that Y is the same thing as X to prevent sudden changes of membership and changes of strategy; in other words to prevent disruptions of its social life.)
I have some examples in my mind, but as it happens in real life, there were also other factors involved, so the outcome can be explained in different ways. Seems to me that the organization as a whole usually reacts by adopting new goals. It usually has enough time to sense the “danger” of completing the existing goals. But if completing a specific subgoal would change how the organization works internally, that specific goal can be sabotaged. For example, if the subgoal is to make the organization more efficient, which would conflict with existing personal desires of some members.
As a specific example from my life, there was a science fiction magazine with volunteer editors; each of those editors had their own section. The magazine had some readership, but only a fraction of the possible market. It seemed than unless the situation improves, the magazine will not survive economically. Some sci-fi fans reported that the magazine contains a lot of things they don’t care about, and ignores some topics they do; which is why they ignore the only sci-fi magazine written in their language, and instead buy magazines from other countries, even if it is more costly and inconvenient. Even worse, some of those few fans that subscribed to the magazine, reported they mostly did it for kinda patriotic duty of supporting the only sci-fi magazine in their country; but they also were dissatisfied with how the content was selected.
So the magazine had a new subgoal: research the market, find out what the sci-fi fans in our country care about, and modify the content of the magazine accordingly. Otherwise, the whole magazine is doomed. All editors agreed that this was a critical thing, and then most of them ignored the topic completely. The two or three people who cared, created a questionnaire about the contents (“please rate how much you liked the story or report X?” “is this the kind of content that makes you buy our magazine?”) and suggested sending the questionnaire to our subscribers, the most loyal group of customers, pleading them to provide a necessary feedback for the magazine. Everyone agreed that this is a good thing, but when the next issue of the magazine was sent to subscribers, the questionnaire was omitted, by mistake. So the questionnaire was updated to reflect the contents of the next issue; and then it was omitted by mistake, again. Suspecting that the mistakes might not be completely accidental, the authors updated the questionnaire to be timeless; questions like “please list 3 stories or reports in this issue that you liked most, and 1 story or report that you liked least” could be inserted in any issue. So if another mistake would happen, as indeed it did, it did not mean more work to the authors; the questionnaire was still there, ready and available for any of the following issues. Finally, the questionnaire was sent to the subscribers, we received surprisingly many responses, and then… the responses were lost and no one ever saw them again. Within a year, most editors developed a false memory that the results of the questionnaire reflected that the readers prefer the contents of the magazine exactly as it is now, so the question is settled satisfactorily, and we should not waste time discussing it anymore. And the whole topic became a taboo. Here is the happy ending: The readership dropped, but the magazine later received a generous government funding, so it actually does not need readers anymore; ten years later, it still exists.
My interpretation of the whole story is that changing the contents of magazine would mean telling some editors to stop writing, because the customers did not want to read what they wrote, and instead they wanted some topics none of the current editors cared about. The harmony among the editors was more important than the survival of the magazine. Socially, the strategy was a success. At the end, the loyal editors managed to keep their sections as they liked them; and those who have rocked the boat, have gradually left the boat, so they don’t matter anymore. The government money removed the only non-social feedback channel from the outside world.