On Decisions and their “Agents”
PUBLISHED:
This essay was inspired by an article recently published by Karen Linkletter and Pooya Tabesh (2025). They were in search of the meaning of “decision” in the works of Peter Drucker. To this end, they used Python to identify and locate all the times the word, “decision”, came up in Peter Drucker’s oeuvre. They then characterized the contexts (“themes”) in which the word came up. The result was a nuanced but very clear characterization of the evolution of his thinking on the topic.
Here, we will focus on a key theme for Drucker: the case where your decisions involve other people’s decisions and actions. For present purposes, we can start with their statement:
One of Drucker’s valuable contributions to the literature on decision-making is his adamance that implementation be built into the decision-making process.” (Linkletter and Tabesh 2025 8) To be clear, “…it is not a surprise that his integration of implementation of and commitment to decisions is part of his process of decision-making. He argues that a decision “has not been made until it has been realized in action.” (2025 8)
The question, therefore, is how to make this happen, how to turn an organization from an aggregate of individuals whose decisions may or may not be aligned, into an agent—an entity that makes decisions, implements them, and then ascertains that what was done was, in fact, what was decided, as we try to do when making purely individual decisions.
Let’s look at the matter more closely…
A few years ago, I read a story about a road crew that was painting a double-yellow line on a highway. In their path was a dead raccoon that had been hit by a car or truck. It was lying right in the middle of the road. The crew didn’t stop. Someone later took a picture of the dead raccoon with a double-yellow line freshly painted right over it. The picture is below. It went viral on the Internet.

Think about this for a moment. The road crew doing the painting must have either worked for a state agency or for a company large enough to do business with the state government. In either case, their organization probably had a mission statement and a strategic plan. It almost surely had formal policies and procedures, a budget, and a management hierarchy spread out over several management disciplines. If it had these things in place, you could bet it had a human resources department with hiring policies, job descriptions, and a performance management process. It probably had key performance indicators (KPIs) and watched these closely. Now, think of the total of these policies, procedures, budgetary constraints, strategic objectives, and KPIs as the “business plan” of this company or agency. You can be sure that its upper management was committed to this business plan, and that the middle and lower levels were committed, too, or at least they “bought into” it.
The reality of a business plan, from the customer’s standpoint, is in the products and services they buy from the company. The customer doesn’t care about management’s intentions or their PowerPoint presentations. The customer cares about what the operating employees produce. The thoughts and actions of these people, when they’re on the job, are the truth of the company’s business plan. The real business plan of a company is whatever it is that carry around in their heads, guiding them as they work. That’s the business plan the customer sees.
So, it is reasonable to ask what was in the minds of the operators who painted over that dead raccoon in the middle of the road? Were they understaffed that day and just didn’t see the roadkill? Or did they see it, but were afraid that if they stopped moving, their feet-per-hour metric would suffer? Or were they too busy doing something else, like texting their friends, to notice that a dead raccoon was in their path? Or did they see it, but were just too lazy to stop, thinking that they could get away with it because it wouldn’t show up on management’s radar? Maybe they saw the raccoon but just painted over it because they thought it was funny. Whatever “plans” they were carrying around in their heads, those plans enabled them to paint a double-yellow line over a dead raccoon in the middle of a highway.
You can be pretty sure that the management of their company or agency wasn’t too happy about any of this, especially since they probably found out about it the way I did—on the Internet. You can be certain that they didn’t intend any of their road crews to paint dead raccoons yellow, or any other color. Somewhere, in between the company’s mission statement and the work of the road crew, there was a “disconnect.” Something fell between the cracks. The business plan formulated by management was one thing. Its reality, as lived out by at least one road crew, was another.
Drucker understood the hazards of decision-making hierarchies. His remedy, first stated in his The Practice of Management (1954), was “management by objectives” (MBO). According to it, the objectives were to be decided by supervisors and their subordinates in a conversation where both parties enjoyed a “right to speak,” with a correlative obligation to “listen.” The idea was to get the “agent”—the organization—to commit, from top to bottom, to those decisions, and to embed them, by way of the MBO process, into the work decisions of everyone. Often enough, MBO works for managers. In the best of cases, it aligns their efforts and creates a managerial esprit de corps. I searched The Practice of Management—in vain—for a reference to the possibility of pushing the conversation all the way down to the operative level. That said, it would not surprise me if the managers of that road crew all had their “MBOs.” It’s just that the series of conversations didn’t go all the way to the bottom. Perhaps if it had, we would not have had that splendid photograph to guide this discussion.
The main insight I got from reading Linkletter and Tabesh’s (2025) paper is that Drucker’s theory of decision-making did not stop with the intellectual work of transforming information and strategic principles into an output called a decision. When you’re the only one making and executing a decision, it boils down to your wanting to do it and having the resources you need to get it done. It’s simple. But when you need other people to get it done, you cannot assume that their decisions will be in line with yours. Implementation is more complicated than that. Drucker realized that the “whole thing,” which includes the execution of the decision, is an essential part of the decision-making process. He found a way to make the organization into an agent, ideally in the same sense as you and I are agents, by way of his MBO. This makes an organization more than just an aggregate of individuals whose positions and names appear on an organization chart.
In this sense, Drucker’s concept was revolutionary. It can’t just be all about a smart guy making the decisions, then telling subordinates what to do, and then following up, kicking ass and taking names…unless he’s OK with the occasional line-striped roadkill.
The reader might see the example under discussion here as extreme. It is. But how many lesser versions of line-striped roadkill are there in the world of organizations, large and small? When I was a consultant, I spent about thirty years helping my clients identify and fix the root causes of many kinds of problems, which often stemmed from the disconnect between plans made at the top and their execution at the operative level, at the level where human beings make the “last turn of the screw.” The solution usually, at least in part, involved getting the operatives actively engaged in a “business planning conversation” of sorts, in which they wound up making verbal commitments in the presence of their bosses and peers. Having done so, they exerted effort to comply with the “plan.” They did this partly because they didn’t want to “look bad” to the others in whose presence they said what they should do to make things better. Nobody likes to be called out with some equivalent of “I thought you said…” But in addition, since they “spoke” the plan, they were likely to experience it “inwardly” as a personal commitment. They were co-owners of the decision. And from this commitment came an increase in efforts to do the right things for the “good of the business.” As a precondition, they needed to see that it was also good for them. That was a key part of the “sell.”
It doesn’t matter whether the operatives are assembly workers, or software engineers, or college professors. In those roles, we are all workers. Most of us want to have a seat at the table, to be taken seriously when we share our thoughts, and to have a visible impact on decisions that affect us as we do our work. We don’t want a “sense” of participation. We want the real thing. To the extent that we get that, our organizations can become agents, not just aggregates of individuals.
Reference
Linkletter, Karen and Tabesh, Pooya. (2025) A historical evaluation of Peter Drucker’s contribution to decision-making thought. Journal of Management History. DOI 10.1108/JMH-09-2024-0140.





