Metaphors,organizations and water: Generating new images for environmental sustainability

Key ideas

Is the Great Pyramid at Giza to be admired for the incredible ingenuity and skill of the early Egyptians or is it a metaphor of exploitation symbolizing the enslavement and mistreatment of thousands of people to serve and glorify privileged elites? Through the lens of the IoD metaphor, enslavement, mistreatment and other dimensions of the ‘Ugly Face’ of organization are exposed and emphasized. The perspective generated by the domination metaphor forces us to consider what may be found behind the veil: systematic disadvantage; widespread damage and destruction; and pervasive pain and suffering – the uncensored story of organization told from the standpoint of the exploited. With the IoD metaphor, Morgan depicts the exploitation of humans using concepts of wage-slavery, surplus value extraction and exposure to work hazards, and he extends the image to the conduct of multinational corporations that take advantage of people, communities and the environment – only to later discard them because higher returns on capital are possible elsewhere.

Domination is the second key idea developed in this perspective. It is used as a general concept to refer to the exercise of robust and thorough-going hierarchical control. What is dominated? Through this lens and Morgan’s illustrations, domination of people and the environment can be seen. Part of the purpose of developing the IoD image, however, is to liberate thinking from total domination by articulating the perspectives of the subjugated. IoD imagery invites consideration of, for example, the circumstances of workers in secondary labor markets suffering employment insecurity and toxic exposure, women experiencing sex discrimination and gender inequality, and post-colonial subjects (including children) undergoing wage-slavery. Importantly for our purpose it also directs attention to the commodification of nature and broader environmental degradation through pollution, depletion and appropriation of resources, and destruction of habitats and ecosystems. Indeed, the first pages of the chapter detail serious threats from corporate pollution:

Every day, industrial organizations spew millions of tons of toxic waste into our waterways and the atmosphere or bury them in leaky containers underground. The economics of waste disposal is such that many organizations feel that they have no choice but to continue in these damaging practices so long as they remain legal. As a result, it is now estimated that as many as 2,000 toxins pollute the Great Lakes, and there are thousands of dangerous toxic-waste sites adding pollution to the groundwater … The fish have cancer, and in areas of concentrated pollution such as the infamous Love Canal near the Niagara River, concern about pollution-related diseases has reached crisis proportions. As in the case of food and tobacco production, human health is adversely affected by corporate practices that place profits before human welfare. (Morgan, 2006: 301–302)

Following Weber, Morgan is especially interested in conveying how domination in modern bureaucracies and capitalist organizations is intertwined with the proliferation of instrumental rationality – a narrow and degraded form of reason that fetishizes the refinement of means, calculative logic and mechanized efficiency. Substantive end goals that require moral and aesthetic reflection for justification are eclipsed with the false certainty of technological solutions, refined processes and quantitative language. The modern emphasis on instrumental rationality leads to domination as ‘impersonal principles and the quest for efficiency tend to become our new slave drivers’ (Morgan, 2006: 296).

Gouldner’s (1970) discussion of poison gas weapons provides a dramatic illustration of how dominating technologies can arise and be maintained by restricted reasoning. He points out that evaluating the gas solely in terms of the mathematical elegance of its formula (or in terms of other strictly technical criteria) or construing its elements as purely neutral bits of information (useful for the furtherance of any and all social values) obscures more fundamental ethical questions about the technology. Judgments about poison gas limited solely to ‘“autonomous” technical criteria,’ in effect not only allow but require people to be ‘moral cretins in their technical roles’ (Gouldner, 1970: 13). This illustration can serve as an object lesson and be applied to widely used synthetic pesticides (many of which are based on poison gas technology – see Pollan, 2006) and also may be applicable to hydraulic fracturing and many other technologies in use that are claimed to be benign.

Viewed from the perspective of the domination metaphor, systems of totalitarian control can arise in which elites aspire to formally administer all aspects of nature and social relations. These systems resemble total institutions that use instrumentally rational processes to subdue all opposition in and around organizations. Alternatively, this metaphor enables a view of organizations as deeply divided and politicized along class, occupation, race, ethnicity, gender, environment and other lines: battlegrounds, rife with conflict and with resistance to dominating and exploitative practices. As a counterweight to traditional organizational studies that sometimes evoke Panglossian thoughts of unified teams or happy families, the battlegrounds image frames organization as contested terrain in which entrenched struggles can arise from antagonisms among people with fundamentally different views of issues and problems.

Usefulness

We understand the value of assessing the holistic usefulness of all eight Images metaphors at once. The approach we take, however, is more focused. For two main reasons, we work primarily with the IoD metaphor. First, it has potential to generate more critical thinking about organizations and nature – thinking compatible with the environmental sustainability imperative. As argued by Worster (1994: 378, cited in Philippon, 2004): ‘[m]etaphors imply worldviews,’ and it is in those worldviews that we find fundamental strengths and limitations of a perspective. ¹ In our view, it is important to revisit discussions of the assumptions of the anthropocentric paradigm (entrenched worldview that casts humans as separate from and superior to the rest of nature) in order to examine the roots of current environmental problems and to meaningfully explore alternatives. We are concerned that the organizational studies field has lost an edge as critiques of anthropocentric bias have faded and debates tend to be staged more around normal science topics and shades of light green (reformist) politics (cf. Dobson, 2009; Ezzamel and Willmott, 2014). Second, the IoD metaphor remains in the margins of the field despite the fact that it counterbalances limitations of the two most powerful conventional metaphors in use. When Gareth Morgan was asked to reflect on which metaphors offer strong insight for research on organizations and the natural environment, he emphasized the IoD image, pointing to the role it plays in highlighting the ‘exploitative and destructive aspects of organizations’ and the ‘hidden downsides of some of the conventional organizational metaphors, most notably those of machine and organism’ (see Morgan, 2011: 472).

We hold that further elaboration of the IoD metaphor, as well as reflecting on how to move beyond its limitations, remain critical for organizational studies and for generating nature-inclusive research. In the next section, we use insights from the IoD metaphor to guide development of new images related to organizations, sustainability and the water crisis.

Using normative metaphors to think about organizations and water

The main purpose of thinking metaphorically is to generate new understanding of an abstract concept by compactly and vividly expressing what can otherwise be said only circuitously (Ortony, 1975). When metaphor is used, features of the abstract concept that previously were not present nor considered salient may be advanced (see Cornelissen, 2005). Each metaphor highlights aspects of the concept while implicitly hiding other aspects (Lakoff and Johnson, 1980).

In specifically relating the abstract concept organization to ‘water’ – a palpable, familiar substance directly experienced every day – we invite engagement with the broader domain of water but recognize that the initial conceptual blending of organization and water might emerge from the more tangible features of the comparison (e.g. organizations as hydrologic cycles, organizations as drinking fountains, or organizations as people who are physically constituted by water). This type of vividness is an advantage of metaphor so long as the meaning developed is not too restricted by the literal.

As shown in Table 1, we propose several abstract, non-literal pairings that use the word ‘as’ to link organization with source domains. ² We elaborate the IoD root metaphor with two sub-metaphors (organizations as systems of totalitarian control and organizations as battlegrounds) and then extend it by deriving two second-order metaphors: organizations as water exploiters and organizations as water keepers. We also experiment with metaphors designed to serve as catalysts for thinking beyond domination. Sub-metaphors enable more specific mapping and nuanced elaboration (Kovecses, 2000), whereas second-order metaphors extend a comparison throughout a major part of a work (cf. Alvesson, 1993; Fludernik, 2011).

Metaphors may be assessed using criteria such as compactness, vividness, forcefulness and aptness (see Ortony, 1975). However, given the power of metaphor to transform thinking, some scholars have suggested that metaphors should also be compatible with progressive social change and theory development that has an emancipatory intent. For example, Larson (2011) places high priority on developing prescriptive metaphors to better bridge society and nature, and suggests that the pivotal question is whether the metaphors we choose will help us on the path to sustainability or lead us further astray. Following this method, some of the metaphors we develop (see Table 1, Columns 3 and 4) are explicitly normative and are special cases of Oswick et al.’s (2004) premeditated metaphors. The latter are consciously and prescriptively imposed as images of organization to help generate new theory and solve organizational problems.

Organizations as water exploiters

The water exploiter metaphor (see Table 1) is derived from the IoD’s emphasis on systems of totalitarian control, and represents organization-based domination of water through privatization, hoarding, commodification, contamination, wasteful use and other activities that undermine the viability of aquatic systems. From the perspective of organizations as water exploiters, picturing organizations as ‘bloated’ can effectively signify routine profligate water use and in many respects depicts present day business as usual. Related concepts from some areas of ecological research, particularly agriculture and international trade (e.g. water footprint, virtual water, embodied water, or embedded water) help elaborate this perspective. These concepts emphasize the insight that there is hidden water (often immense) in everything we encounter (Allan, 2003). For example, to produce a single hamburger for sale it takes an average of 2400 liters of water. The embedded water in a hamburger can symbolize the scope of the problem as rising population and affluence create exponential demand for water. We advance the water exploiter lens to enhance reflection on dominating organizations that create severe ecosystem stress by using water in risky and unsustainable ways. An artistic illustration of this point may be found in the highly acclaimed, dystopian science fiction film “Pumzi,” which depicts a parched and barren, underground city in totalitarian East Africa, following World War III—the apocalyptic war over water. In this future world, citizens are permitted one small container of water per day. The container, which appears in nearly every scene, strongly resembles today’s sports drink bottles. It might bait critique of multinational water warrior Coca-Cola and its “Powerade” line (or, ironically, as one web commentator suggested, its product line, “Sprite,” and its lifeblood slogans “Obey your thirst” and “For the thirsty”). “Pumzi” shocks viewers into reflecting on exploitative human-water relations in ways even well-accepted metaphors of the day (“thirsty planet,” thirsty cities,” “thirsty organizations) probably do not. Equally importantly, its surprise ending presents a memorable example of what is arguably altruistic ecocentrism under the harshest of circumstances.

At a more macro level, there is perhaps no greater symbol of humanity’s efforts to master nature or to develop mechanized instruments of domination than the world’s mega-dams. Control of river watersheds through mega-dams has provided some substantive benefits and has often been a source of competitive pride among politicians, business leaders, technicians and citizens. Scientists have cautioned for some time, however, against placing too much faith in these controversial systems given that they have been linked to large-scale species extinction and biodiversity loss, flooded forests and farmlands, and displaced people (see www.internationalrivers.org/problems-with-big-dams). Remarkably, these concerns have not prevented the proliferation of dam projects, even in earthquake prone regions such as the Himalayan Mountains (see Mukerjee, 2015).

In this line of thought, what is the root cause of human efforts to appropriate, control and use water in unsustainable ways? Some scholars working with the IoD metaphor would link privatization and profligate use or pollution of water to capital accumulation exigencies, patriarchal forces and other forms of domination. The connection we emphasize between the anthropocentric worldview and unbridled domination of water complements critiques of capitalism, patriarchy and other critical perspectives but resonates best with scholars who argue that the highest priority must be to reveal and challenge anthropocentric bias. Anthropocentrism manifests, though, in different forms. It can range from more traditional western religious and other beliefs that humans have the right to exploit nature at will – what we refer to as hard anthropocentrism – to softer notions underwritten by reformist philosophies emphasizing conservation of natural resources, restoration of natural environments, or preservation of wilderness to profit humans (see Wellock, 2007). Within the hard anthropocentrism worldview, water and the rest of non-human nature are construed as dead, passive, inert – lacking agency and other properties humans readily appreciate (Merchant, 1980). Accordingly, processes that over-exploit water are unreflectively set in motion as water is viewed only as a tool for human use, a means to taken-for-granted ends, and a substance lacking intrinsic worth. In this view, an unchallenged belief prevails that the true value of water may be quantified and accurately assessed through market mechanisms.

Processes of water exploitation are also underwritten by instrumental rationality. The quest for better, faster processes can become an end in itself, displacing reflection about bigger questions such as those related to aquifer depletion, water contamination, or water equity. It follows that those who operate in such systems often do not think there are rational alternatives to human sovereignty and exploitation in interfacing with water.

At the essence of totalitarian control is an organizational form designed to limit or eliminate spontaneity, and a system of management that does not recognize the agency of the dominated (see Arendt, 1951/1979). This corresponds well with the classic, ideal type machine bureaucracy (an organization directed by technological imperatives, well-ingrained regulations, standardized work processes and hierarchical command language). The engineer-technocrat symbolizes the ascendant humanism driving this organizational form (see Horkheimer, 1947/1974), ³ in which a high priority is placed on quantifying and commodifying nature (e.g. a forest as board feet of timber or an artesian well as gallons of extractable water for bottling per day). Water exploitation in a machine bureaucracy rests on instrumentally rational and objectifying language and processes. This type of reason best serves the taken-for-granted ends of economic growth and profit.

The multi-national corporation, Nestlé, does not fall completely in line with an ideal type exploiter of water, but it appears that no amount of public disapproval will deter this firm from extracting, bottling and commodifying water in drought-stricken California. CEO Tim Brown recently asserted his company’s legal rights and defended their claim to over 700 million gallons of water per year, stating: ‘If I stop bottling water tomorrow, people would buy a different brand of bottled water. We see this everyday … In fact, if I could increase [bottling], I would’ (Lockie, 2015). Within the constraints of the hard anthropocentric paradigm, there appears to Mr Brown to be no rational alternative to bottling water in California. Ironically, according to the US Forest Service, Nestlé’s permit to transport water across the San Bernardino National Forest for bottling has been expired since 1988 (Schlanger, 2015).

Organizations as water keepers

Dominating and instrumentalist images of organizations and water have their place in organizational studies, especially given the role organizations play in instigating and intensifying water crises (Barnett, 2011; Martinez, 2015). It is important, however, to visualize less one-sided forms of human–water relations that can generate new thinking about the importance of water and that can support greater responsibility and reform. The water keeper metaphor we discuss below and delineate in column 3 of Table 1 is derived from the treatment of the ‘radicalized organization’ in the IoD chapter and the image of organizations as battlegrounds. It is explicitly normative and is aimed at promoting environmental sustainability.

The root word ‘keep’ in the water keeper metaphor has multiple meanings. Therefore, based on semantic distinctions, it may be used to provoke a number of derivative metaphors. One possible distinction – those who seek to retain possession of (or hoard) water – has been discussed above as an aspect of water exploitation. But, the word more evocatively refers to caretaking or to those who provide care – in this case, care of water. This connotation suggests that water keepers would assume the role of water stewards or trustees and would support restoration of bodies of water. For our purposes, the way the term ‘keep’ is used by WaterKeepers®Alliance (a global activist organization dedicated to strong advocacy of water and the protection of waterways) is also useful, leading us to think of potentially vigilant protectors and restorers of water engaged in struggle with forces exploiting water. Through this lens, we can visualize water keeping organizations battling in diverse ways to correct extreme imbalances in the human–water relationship.

Similar to the image of the water exploiter, this metaphor is underwritten by anthropocentric assumptions of human superiority. However, because it emphasizes stewardship (concern for efficient use, conservation of resources and environmental protection and restoration) and trusteeship (concern for the quality of the environment for the well-being of future generations), we refer to the paradigm underlying this metaphor as soft anthropocentrism, implying movement away from totalizing forms of domination. Indeed, this perspective is marked by dissenting thought and ongoing resistance to domination and separation from the hard anthropocentric worldview.

Using this image and situating it within the IoD sub-metaphor, ‘organizations as battlegrounds,’ scholars can attribute to water keepers insight into the limitations of reasoning instrumentally. Augmenting the critique of hard anthropocentric hubris with modified instrumental rationality, water keepers can challenge domination in another fundamental way: by rejecting the exclusivity of the language of degraded reason and its limiting technicist vocabulary. Horkheimer and Adorno (1944/1972: xiv) wisely cautioned reformers not to catch this ‘sickness’:

It is characteristic of the sickness that even the best-intentioned reformer who uses an impoverished and debased language to recommend renewal, by his adoption of the insidious mode of categorization and the bad philosophy it conceals, strengthens the very power of the established order he is trying to break.

White (2007: 20) is also suspicious of using techno-scientific language and quantitative reasoning as the ‘primary weapon’ lest activists unwittingly slip into a comfort zone with techniques such as ‘cost-benefit logic figured in songbirds.’ Through this lens, we see water keepers developing and using a wide range of vocabularies in struggles against water privatization, commodification, and other forms of exploitation – succeeding to some degree when water is elevated to the status of a valued resource worth protecting through struggle.

To conceptualize macro battleground dynamics and organizational forms that are emerging to address water problems, we adopt the phrase contested terrain, recognizing that disagreements about even the most basic water issues are typical once business as usual is threatened. Arguably, the challenge facing water keepers seeking to change organizations is immense. The vast majority of organizations lack basic methods of protecting water and tend not to take responsibility for its care (Barnett, 2011; Martinez, 2015).

Yet, through the water keeper lens, we can visualize organizations operating individually and in innovative coalitions, struggling in contested terrains to shape businesses, NGOs, government agencies, and other organizations that will step out ahead and drive change. Some of these organizations can be considered activist organizations that bring water keepers together, such as environmental champion Patagonia, discussed in the next section. Others are better described as pragmatic change agents responding to increasing awareness of water problems, such as the Alliance for Water Stewardship that comprises nearly 30 large corporations seeking to develop a global standard defining water stewardship (Clancy, 2014).

We can also visualize classic struggles in and around organizations along traditional class lines and between corporate interests and environmental groups. For example, Obach (2004) richly illustrated ways organized labor and environmental groups found common ground on water and other environmental issues to successfully challenge corporate pollution. The contested terrain in and around Coca-Cola also provides a vivid illustration of dynamics directing new forms of organization emerging to address water problems. Long embattled with environmental activists and government agencies over its extraction and pollution of ground water, as recently as July 2014 Coca-Cola was forced to shut down bottling plants in India following local protests (Chilkoti, 2014). The company’s overall approach to negotiating the contested terrain includes combative strategies. Its predominant strategy seems more collaborative, however, as it aspires to be recognized as a leading corporate citizen and frontline water keeper in itself (see Elmore, 2014). Indeed, Coca-Cola’s approach, as documented in its most recent water stewardship report, appears far-reaching. The steps it is taking include implementation of technical controls to improve water efficiency of its manufacturing operations, support for water conservation efforts in vital locations, and a conspicuous collaboration with the World Wildlife Fund.

Questions about greenwashing have been raised by some concerning Coca-Cola’s reformist style, which has been linked to the industry’s priority of maintaining access to water as a commodity and shaping global water policy (Pearce, 2015). Further research is needed on Coca-Cola and other aspiring water keeping organizations to determine if reform capitalism can succeed on broad environmental criteria and what meaning to attribute to underlying motives. It is likely that Coca-Cola is merely responding to regulatory pressures and community groups, but it does seem clear to us that interfaces with water in this terrain are being restructured and that debates are not limited to tacit endorsements of instrumentally rational techniques.

Although Coca-Cola provides a highly visible object lesson helpful in picturing some progression away from images of water exploitation, their strategies and tactics may not be typical of even more progressive water keeping organizations. For example, a critical role that water keepers could play involves fundamentally challenging the current rules of the game – rules that permit near total domination, especially by corporate owners and their allies (e.g. Barlow and Clarke, 2002; Subramaniam and Williford, 2012). From this angle, we can imagine a counterpoint arising in future water keeper organizations related to private ownership and control of water – one asserting that access to safe water should be a basic human right and that all humanity owns the water.

More generally, as advocates from diverse sectors facing a variety of dominating forces, we can see water keeper organizations employing a range of tactics: litigation; boycott; direct action and ecotage; social media campaigns; symbolic protests; vigorous debate; informed discussion; inspirational dialogue; educating for sustainability; implementing green technology and formal systems; and building transformational cultures. Consistent with the battlegrounds metaphor, some confrontation and harsh conflict can be expected. Although difficult, we can see these steps, in some instances, leading to real dialogues that move beyond limited vocabularies reducing nature to instrumental considerations. At this stage, mediated communication would also be required – human actors speaking to other human actors on behalf of nature. It should be recognized that human attempts to speak for nature – as legitimate representatives (O’Neill, 2001), as deputized ‘nature advocates’ (Eckersley, 2011), and even more so as environmental stakeholders (cf. Waddock, 2011) – can be difficult. For example, cooptation of the advocates could impede progress. Moreover, even with the best intentions, water keepers can slide toward possessiveness in their efforts to enforce the maxim that all of humanity owns the water. Nevertheless, we think the water keeper metaphor provides important groundwork for thinking about redressing human privilege, negotiating on behalf of nature in contested terrains, and designing unique, less-dominating forms of organization (see Morgan, 2006: 333).

In the next section, we further elaborate this metaphor through an illustration of an exemplary activist organization, Patagonia, Inc. We see strong elements of the water keeper in Patagonia and also some movement consistent with ecocentric ideals.

Patagonia as water keeper

Patagonia is one of the most widely celebrated companies in the business and academic press (Delmas and Burbano, 2011; Hamm, 2006). Because of its commitment to social and environmental leadership, it has been labeled a leading ‘CSR entrepreneur’ (Vallaster et al., 2012), ‘conscious capitalist’ organization (O’Toole and Vogel, 2011), and ‘sustainability leader’ (Lampikoski et al., 2014).

In this era of corporate greenwashing, however, sophisticated consumer-sensitive firms like Patagonia are fully aware of the potential impact of their public disclosures, and some certainly take liberties in managing their reputations by knowingly stretching the truth and otherwise misrepresenting their environmental performance (Delmas and Burbano, 2011; Forbes and Jermier, 2012). In our research, we did not find any allegations of greenwashing by Patagonia. Indeed they seem more careful than their admirers when describing the current position and trajectory of the company. For example, Patagonia’s website modestly characterizes the firm by stating:

We can’t pose Patagonia as the model of a responsible company. We don’t do everything a responsible company can do, nor does anyone else we know. But we can tell you how we came to realize our environmental and social responsibilities, and then began to act on them.

In a recent interview, Vincent Stanley (Patagonia Director and co-author of the book, The Responsible Company) noted that their journey started out slowly and that it took 20 years before Patagonia even examined the environmental impacts of their supply chain (Cofino, 2013).

For many reasons, Patagonia has received and deserves close study by academic researchers and journalists. Despite this scrutiny, it is difficult to know in toto what to make of Patagonia’s strong reputation. One of our reviewers, for example, raised a concern about the prices of Patagonia’s products, perhaps echoing the common perception that the firm serves an elite niche market, also reflected in its nickname, easily found on the internet: ‘Patagucci.’ We are not apologists for Patagonia’s pricing and marketing strategies, but it should be noted that when it comes to pricing, Patagonia is to Gucci as municipal tap water is to Fiji bottled water or, at the extreme, Beverly Hills 90H20 designer water. Our study leads us to the impression that the company’s approach has been to manufacture, sell and stand behind high quality, durable products (see Table 2 for repair and replacement policies) that are priced for sustainable consumption, not mass markets or haute couture. Moreover, as with any business concern operating in the world of ‘green capitalism’ and ‘green management’ (see Banerjee, 2012; Clark and York, 2005; Ferguson, 2015), we have reservations about Patagonia’s undertakings and ultimately about what is needed socially and environmentally relative to what capitalist organizations can actually deliver.

OPEN IN VIEWER

Table 2a.

Patagonia as water keeper.

Strategy 1: Promoting healthy water and ecosystem restoration
Tactics:
• Full-length feature documentary on dam issues, DamNation (2014)
• Essays on water protection, restoration and dam removal advocacy
• Our Common Waters Initiative
• bluesign®system
Strategy 2: Advocating change for existing businesses and supporting new environmental activist businesses
Tactics:
• 100% organic cotton in product line and agreements with other apparel companies to purchase organic cotton
• Walmart and the Sustainable Apparel Coalition
• Footprint Chronicles®
• Environmental education
• 20 Million and Change
Strategy 3: Supporting grassroots environmental organizations
Tactics:
• Direct grants
• 1% for the Planet
• Conservation Alliance
• Environmental internships for Patagonia employees
• Tools for Activists conferences

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Table 2b.

Patagonia: Beyond water keeping.

Strategy 4: Encouraging active citizenship and a low consumption society
Tactics:
• Benefit-Corporation
• Vote the Environment campaigns
• Voice Your Choice campaign
• Don’t Buy This Jacket advertising campaign
• Common Threads Initiative and recycling programs (e.g. Worn Wear)
• Responsible Economy campaign

This table provides an overview of the types of programs and initiatives Patagonia participates in or collaborates with other organizations. The list is not exhaustive. The categorization by strategy is the authors’ design based on a review of academic and business sources (e.g. Delmas and Burbano, 2011; Hamm, 2006; Lampikoski et al., 2014; MacKinnon, 2015; O’Toole and Vogel, 2011; Vallaster et al., 2012) and Patagonia’s extensive public access resources on their website and publications (e.g. www.patagonia.com, Environmental and Social Initiatives, 2014).

Accordingly, in presenting and depicting Patagonia as an exemplar of a water keeping organization, we do not want to raise it on a pedestal. We selected Patagonia because it draws attention to and champions a variety of healthy water solutions, but also because it has a broader reputation as an environmental activist organization and because it is highly influential in business networks. As shown in Table 2, we take a descriptive approach (based on available research and the firm’s disclosures) and provide a list of Patagonia’s programs and initiatives that correspond with the water keeper image.

Patagonia’s water keeping stance began with Yvon Chouinard, its activist founder and self-described ‘reluctant businessman’:

I’m a dambuster. We’ve been working for years to take this dam out [Matilija Dam on the Ventura River]. The reservoir behind it is only four feet deep. The water behind it gets real warm. It kills a lot of the life in the river. When you take out a dam, that’s a real victory. I mean a concrete victory so to speak … To do good, you actually have to do something. ⁴

Of the many environmental battlegrounds on which Patagonia is engaged, the movement to take down deadbeat dams – those that are no longer useful – may be the most surprising to organizational studies scholars, and least well known to date. It is an excellent example, however, of Patagonia’s environmental strategy we refer to as ‘Promoting healthy water and ecosystem restoration’ (see Table 2).

To raise awareness of these issues, Patagonia produced an award-winning film, DamNation (2014). This film documents an incipient paradigm shift from viewing big dams as inspiring conquests of nature and engineering marvels to endorsing efforts to remove dams and restore river ecosystems and landscapes. This major undertaking is supported by extensive educational resources on dams and other environmental issues posted on Patagonia’s website, including influential essays on dam removal (e.g. ‘The Dawn of Dam Removal’ by Bruce Babbitt, Former US Secretary of the Interior). Additionally, a recent multi-phase campaign called ‘Our Common Waters’ focuses attention on numerous water issues, including freshwater scarcity, water exploitation and threats to biodiversity, dam removal and new dam construction, as well as pollution in the textile industry – second only to agriculture in polluting water. Actions taken during this campaign include: employee demonstrations protesting new dam construction; disseminating information on water problems in print, online and video; and an internal program focused on Patagonia’s water use that measures the embedded water of products and that requires use of bluesign®system approved materials in Patagonia products. These materials reduce water and other resources as well as toxic chemicals from the supply chain.

In keeping with Patagonia’s mission of using ‘business to inspire and implement solutions to the environmental crisis,’ ⁵ the tactics listed under the second strategy we identify in Table 2 (‘Advocating change …’) are examples of firm-level activities and inter-organizational collaborations that support healthy water and provide solutions to related environmental problems. For example, Patagonia’s commitment in the mid-1990s to using only 100% organic cotton was an important milestone that changed not only Patagonia’s understanding of their own supply chain and its effects, but that also helped move others in the apparel industry in this direction. Conventionally grown cotton is extremely water and chemical intensive and has toxic effects on water, soil and air (Chouinard, 2006). In contrast, organic cotton often relies on rainwater, not irrigation, and is raised without toxic chemicals or fertilizers. This bold shift led to changes in their product line, but supplies of organic cotton were limited at that time so Patagonia shared information with other apparel manufacturers (e.g. Nike) and enlisted them to begin purchasing organic cotton. This expanded and stabilized a new market (Lee and Jay, 2015). In 2009, Patagonia and Walmart invited business leaders to a conference about creating an index to measure the environmental impact of apparel products. This led to the formation of the Sustainable Apparel Coalition that now includes over 30 apparel and footwear brands and over 100 affiliated organizations. One of the key priorities of the Coalition is ‘water use and quality.’

While thousands of companies now engage in some form of sustainability reporting, Patagonia is developing a new approach to increase transparency concerning their supply chain and product lines. The Footprint Chronicles® on Patagonia’s website is a third party audited database that maps Patagonia’s factories, textile mills and farms across the globe. It provides social and environmental information, including some detailed statements relevant to water use and broader ecosystem health. Along with The Footprint Chronicles®, their website and catalogs are designed to promote environmental literacy. They provide books about Patagonia’s philosophies (e.g. Chouinard, 2006) and about the steps the company took to become progressively more responsible (Chouinard and Stanley, 2012). They also publish lists of environmental activist speakers and ‘Field Reports,’ which are documents written by external and internal authors that deal with current struggles (e.g. battles to protect Chilean coastal waters, and restoration of the Snake River in the US Pacific Northwest). In addition to these examples of the ways Patagonia seeks to encourage other organizations to become more sustainable, they launched a new venture capital arm, ‘20 Million and Change,’ which funds ‘like-minded’ start-up companies (e.g. CO2 Nexus, a company developing a solution for textile processing that replaces water with CO2).

The third strategy we illustrate, ‘Supporting grass roots environmental organizations’ (Table 2), has been a primary focus because, according to the Patagonia website, these activists are ‘on the frontlines of the environmental crisis.’ Patagonia provides grants to ‘activists who take radical and strategic steps to protect habitat, oceans and waterways, wilderness and biodiversity.’ In addition to providing direct grants, many of which benefit water issues’ groups (e.g. Frasier Riverkeeper, West Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada; Friends of the Ventura River, California, USA), Patagonia has been instrumental in recruiting businesses willing to provide financial support to environmental groups. ‘1% for the Planet’ is an organization of 1191 member companies giving 1% of sales to over 3400 environmental NGOs (e.g. Freshwater Future – US and Canada; Blue Planet Network). Similarly, The Conservation Alliance is made up of businesses in the outdoor industry that fund grassroots environmental groups working on, for example, conservation of river ecosystems and dam removal. Two of Patagonia’s more unique tactics include paid sabbaticals for employees so that they can work for up to two months with progressive environmental groups (e.g. International Rivers) and sponsoring conferences that teach tools for environmental activism.

While we use Patagonia to illustrate water keeping, we also see elements in recent programs that indicate movement toward ecocentrism – a shift we describe as nascent ecocentrism. In our view, the items listed in Table 2 under the heading ‘Encouraging active citizenship and a low consumption society’ represent new ways to think about the role of business and enrich discussions of social and environmental responsibility. These discussions may be enlivened by the increasing number of legally designated Benefit Corporations. Patagonia was the first company in California to register as a Benefit Corporation under the new designation. Legally permitting organizations to pursue a triple bottom line approach to corporate citizenship and provide public benefits will have limited appeal across industries, but the enactment of these laws establishes a potential basis for new material and symbolic imagery to impact marketplaces.

In promoting progressive ideas and practices, Patagonia also encourages the public and their customers to help garner political support for the environment. They have run several ‘Vote the Environment’ campaigns, encouraging voter registration and support of environmentally-minded candidates. And, they have created campaigns to involve customers in decisions about charitable funding for environmental groups. In the ‘Voice Your Choice’ campaign, customers can influence the distribution of grant funding by recommending from a list of activist environmental groups.

Even more fundamentally, Patagonia encourages their customers and the public to question high-consumption lifestyles. For example, running counter to usual holiday shopping messages, Patagonia ran a full-page advertisement in the New York Times on Black Friday, 2011, with the heading, ‘Don’t buy this jacket’ (a Patagonia jacket was pictured). The ad encouraged customers to buy only based on their needs and then to ask if a used jacket would suffice (see Renner, 2012). This ad was intended to be educational, asking readers to understand and reduce their environmental footprint and to draw attention to Patagonia’s ‘Common Threads Initiative’ and recycling programs (also see the most recent campaign, ‘Worn Wear’). Through these programs, the company takes back worn clothing and has it recycled or repurposed. If the clothing can be repaired, they will help customers find new owners for it. Patagonia has also increased efforts to introduce ideas that are in some ways compatible with the degrowth movement (see LaTouche, 2010). For example, in a 2013 article in The Guardian, Chouinard argued for lower rates of consumption, calling for an economy that is not fueled by insatiable consumerism. He challenged all corporations to act by creating simpler, longer-lasting products that are not endlessly duplicated and that are less likely to be tossed away. Patagonia’s recent ‘Responsible Economy’ campaign is intended to provoke a broad conversation within industry and with consumers about the largely unquestioned pursuit of economic growth (see Patagonia’s ‘Environmental and Social Initiatives’ report, 2014). ‘Responsible Economy’ ranks among their most controversial campaigns because it was launched at a time when the company was growing steadily. Moreover, it was launched when memories of the ‘Don’t buy this jacket’ advertisement were still fresh – an ad that many journalists suggested had actually increased Patagonia’s sales substantially. Despite the paradox – a growing private enterprise waging an anti-materialist, anti-growth campaign – the Patagonia story is noteworthy because concrete discussions about unsustainable economic growth are urgently needed and difficult to stage. On this point, MacKinnon (2015) observed that it has been difficult to spur interest in the degrowth movement even with support from Bill McKibben, Naomi Klein, Robert Costanza, and other influential figures.

We have not covered the full extent of Patagonia’s water keeping efforts and nascent ecocentrism, but even the sample we presented makes it clear that this small organization has made an impact for change. This impact may be in the outer range of what a capitalist organization can achieve as an activist force leveraging and inspiring its larger collaborators. Taking into account the complexity of meaningful change, we believe Patagonia’s ability to provoke thinking that belies the conventional wisdom warrants further consideration. Importantly, some of the change they produce begins at the level of the individual. For example, textile laminator Rob Koeppel’s experiences show how thinking and identity can be transformed during interactions staged by a water keeping organization. He made a classic statement following a supplier conference sponsored by Patagonia at which he learned about the environmental impacts of conventionally grown cotton: ‘I came as a representative of business; I left a citizen of the earth’ (Rowledge et al., 1999: 103).

Summary of the domination thesis

We have argued that water problems pose a prodigious challenge for environmental sustainability and need more attention from organizational studies scholars. Domination and over-exploitation of water in and around organizations elevate risk to humanity and other species, and threaten to further destabilize ecosystems in unprecedented ways. As shown in columns two and three of Table 1 and through the Patagonia illustration, we think beliefs and assumptions about what is an appropriate balance in human–water relations can change and that premeditated, normative metaphors (e.g. organizations as water keepers) can help generate changes in thinking.

Although we see the water keeper image as a useful and necessary step in addressing these problems, we do not believe it can take us all the way in visualizing organizational forms that parallel ecocentric ideals and that represent radical change. It is limited by the language of ‘keeping’ and the assumptions of soft anthropocentrism that still cast humanity in a separate and superior role. Accordingly, we can envision the metaphor of organizations as water keepers eventually giving way to thinking that fosters ideas about even more egalitarian and nature-inclusive social relationships in and around organizations.