Inventing Culinary Heritage through Strategic Historical Ambiguity

Abstract

Studies have shown how organisations create and use historical narratives to ‘outpast’ competing narratives, in attempts to claim authenticity through antiquity. We extend this work by exploring how organisations deliberately use historical narratives located in a vaguely defined past as a tool to craft legitimate historical narratives of a common cultural heritage. We theorise a link between strategic ambiguity and historical narratives by explaining how organisational actors construct a vaguely defined past and how historical narratives help these actors invent a cultural heritage. Conducting an in-depth case study of a culinary movement based in Istanbul, Turkey, we identify three forms of ambiguity that enable the construction of a common cultural heritage. These forms include ambiguity of origin, ambiguity of artefacts and ambiguity of ownership, and enable actors to concretise and perform a vaguely defined past in the present. Our study advances understanding of organisational uses of the past and suggests the term ‘strategic historical ambiguity’ to capture how ambiguity is deliberately used as a tool to craft legitimate historical narratives of a common cultural heritage.

Keywords

culinary movement cultural heritage historical narratives strategic ambiguity strategic historical ambiguity uses of the past

Introduction

While many studies have examined how organisations construct and employ historical narratives for strategic ends (e.g. Foster, Coraiola, Suddaby, Kroezen, & Chandler, 2017), scholars have recently underscored the need to explain how the temporality of such narratives matters in this process (Wadhwani, Suddaby, Mordhorst, & Popp, 2018). Previous studies have shown, for example, how organisations work to ‘outpast’ other narratives, in attempts to claim authenticity through antiquity (Lubinski, 2018). To do so, organisations resurrect nearly forgotten narratives by diving into corporate archives (Hatch & Schultz, 2017; Ravasi, Rindova, & Stigliani, 2019) or by drawing on institutional memories of a society (Cailluet, Gorge, & Özçağlar-Toulouse, 2018; Foster et al., 2017; Oertel & Thommes, 2018). Thus, when constructing and employing historical narratives, organisations seem to prefer some parts of the past to others. Whereas previous studies have illustrated the variety of forms and sources of historical narratives, few studies address ideas and uses of ambiguity in these narratives. We fill this gap by focusing on the ambiguity of historical narratives and how organisations construct and employ them.

Whereas organisational scholars have made great progress in exploring how organisations might use the past strategically, we still know very little about how organisations use ambiguity as a strategy when they construct and employ historical narratives. We draw on the concept of strategic ambiguity (Eisenberg, 1984) defined as how ‘ambiguity is used strategically to foster agreement on abstractions without limiting specific interpretations’ (Eisenberg, 1984, p. 231). We extend this work by exploring how historical narratives located in a vaguely defined past are used as a tool to create a common cultural heritage. We thereby aim to answer the following question: How do organisational actors use strategic ambiguity to construct legitimate historical narratives of a common cultural heritage?

The study examines how a nascent group of organisational actors aims to mobilise support to legitimise a new, local cuisine, which they claim is temporally anchored in an unspecified ancient past. The paper explores how this group constructs and employs historical narratives to authenticate and legitimise their efforts to develop a novel cuisine and culinary heritage. We study an emerging, Istanbul-based culinary movement that aims to construct a ‘New Anatolian Kitchen’ based on regional culinary customs and traditions. To do so, organisational actors engage in a deliberate process to invent and craft a coherent and convincing narrative. In constructing this narrative, the organisational actors remember certain events of the past and deliberately forget others, in order to highlight or silence competing narratives of an ancient past, an imperial (Ottoman) recent past, and a modern present (Turkish) state.

We specify three forms of ambiguity that enable the construction of cultural heritage. They include ambiguity of origin, ambiguity of artefacts and ambiguity of ownership, which enable the past to be enacted and performed in the present. We theorise a link between strategic ambiguity and historical narratives by showing how the construction of ambiguous historical narratives helps organisational actors to craft legitimate historical narratives. Finally, we suggest that ambiguous historical narratives enable organisational actors, such as those in the emerging culinary movement, to construct a cultural heritage by suspending the formation of competing clear-cut historical narratives. In the following sections we define and elaborate on the core constructs of our study.

Historical Narratives and Working the Past

While scholars have long recognised history’s key role in organisational life (e.g. Stinchcombe, 1965), growing awareness has emerged of how actors use history to shape specific organisational outcomes (e.g. Coraiola, Foster, & Suddaby, 2015). This stream of research considers historical narratives as strategic assets and resources, which can be used to produce deliberate organisational results (Foster et al., 2017). As such, history is not merely an accumulation of past experience or a product of past circumstances but also a potential strategic tool through which events are selected, interpreted and conveyed to specific audiences for specific purposes (Foster et al., 2017). These studies distinguish organisational history from the organisational past. Whereas they see the past as the time before the present, they consider history to be the narrative accounts we create about it (Munslow, 2016). They regard history not as an objectively fixed entity that can be grasped by looking into the past but, rather, as something malleable that is interpreted (Reinecke & Ansari, 2015) and given meaning through individual and collective processes of narration (Zundel, Holt, & Popp, 2016).

Previous research has demonstrated how organisational actors use historical narratives for a broad range of strategic purposes, to create both continuity and change (Suddaby & Foster, 2017). Through attempts at ‘working the past’ (Linde, 2008), organisations employ the past as raw material, from which history is subsequently assembled and (re)constructed into a coherent narrative. This form of manipulation typically involves mnemonic cutting and pasting, through which managers aim to construct historical continuity or discontinuity (Chreim, 2005; Zerubavel, 2003). In their study of a French aerospace company, Anteby and Molnár (2012) showed how management suppressed change and variability through selective remembering and forgetting, to make organisational history and identity appear more coherent. Other studies have shown how the past may also represent a burden that organisational actors try to cast off (Foster et al., 2017), and organisations construct demarcations between the past and present to promote identity or category change (Delmestri & Greenwood, 2016; Ybema, 2010).

Constructing Historical Narratives

Studies have shown how historical narratives may be constructed from a wide variety of sources. In corporations, managers may draw on material from inside organisational archives (Hatch & Schultz, 2017; Schultz & Hernes, 2013) or corporate museums (Ravasi et al., 2019) when constructing a common understanding of what past events mean for present and future action. In these cases, managers act as historians by using historical evidence and anecdotes to build narratives that create coherence between past achievement, present action and future expectations (Kroeze & Keulen, 2013). Other studies have suggested that historical narratives originating outside organisational boundaries might promote such processes more effectively (Cailluet et al., 2018; Foster, Suddaby, Minkus, & Wiebe, 2011; Lubinski, 2018). These accounts may be based on national (Foster et al., 2017; Mordhorst, 2014), regional (Howard-Grenville, Metzger, & Meyer, 2013; Oertel & Thommes, 2018), or industry narratives (Hills, Voronov, & Hinings, 2013; Kroezen & Heugens, 2019; Lamertz, Foster, Coraiola, & Kroezen, 2016), from which symbols and practices are adopted to support stakeholder identification with the organisation(s). To strengthen legitimacy and membership identification, organisations may therefore ‘actively work their history through organizational and institutional memory to fuse the memory and identity of the individual and the community in a process that serves the ultimate goal of reproducing the organization as an institution’ (Suddaby, Foster, & Quinn Trank, 2016, p. 306).

While most research has shown how organisational actors construct historical narratives through the intentional use of spoken or written language, some studies have also highlighted the importance of visual or material resources. In their examination of Carlsberg brewery, Hatch and Schultz (2017) showed how the organisation used a particular historical artefact to lend authenticity to strategic actions. Similarly, Schultz and Hernes (2013) found that the toy manufacturer Lego employed material memory forms as the company evoked the past to reconstruct a present identity; Howard-Grenville et al. (2013) demonstrated how community leaders employed tangible resources such as money and talent to resurrect a forgotten collective identity. Through the use of mnemonic technologies, such as records and symbols of the past, organisations cue and stimulate memory to make historical narratives appear as logically consistent chains of events (Olick, 1999). In this process, organisations couple various forms of textual, material and oral memory to project historical coherence and authenticity, a phenomenon framed as organizational historicizing (Hatch & Schultz, 2017).

Strategic ambiguity—anchoring narratives in a vaguely defined past

Whereas previous studies have illustrated historical narratives’ varied forms and sources, few studies examine ideas and uses of ambiguity in such narratives. Nonetheless, some studies show how appropriating an ancient (rather than a recent) past allows for more-flexible interpretation. Studying the use of historical narratives by German companies in colonial India, Lubinski (2018) shows how Indians and Germans attempted to ‘outpast’ the British by invoking an earlier origin, thereby claiming authenticity through antiquity. While these findings show how history situated in an ancient past may be used to outdo competing narratives, we still know little about how organisational actors work to authenticate and legitimise such narratives.

To address this gap, we draw on the concept of strategic ambiguity (Eisenberg, 1984). Eisenberg (1984) introduced and defined the term as follows: ‘ambiguity is used strategically to foster agreement on abstractions without limiting specific interpretations’ (Eisenberg, 1984, p. 231). We define this ambiguity as constructed through opaque rhetorical and material statements that allow multiple interpretations to exist among people who perceive themselves to attend to the same idea. In this way, strategic ambiguity may be used to construct and maintain unified diversity. Whereas early research on strategic ambiguity focused on internal organisational uses, recent work showed how ambiguous statements may also be employed for external use, to control external stakeholders or enable collective action (Davenport & Leitch, 2005; Jarzabkowski, Sillince, & Shaw, 2010). Scandelius and Cohen (2016) suggest that the construction of strategic ambiguity allows multiple stakeholder responses and interpretations to exist in a unified diversity. Building on this view, we extend research on strategic ambiguity by linking it to historical narratives located in a vaguely defined past, to show how organisations use such narratives as a tool. We use the term ‘strategic’ to underline organisations’ intentional, purposeful efforts to construct and use ambiguity in historical narratives. Finally, we consider not only organisational actors’ rhetorical, historical claims but also how they enact and perform those claims through action, material forms and mnemonic cues.

The Research Setting: New Anatolian Kitchen

In recent years, the republic of Turkey, the so-called melting pot of the occident and the orient, has been trying to define its culture. The precarious balance of ancient and modern times, which led to political unrest during the spring of 2013, is currently also reflected in the country’s changing gastronomic scene and identity (Cheshes, 2013). At the forefront of the culinary movement emerging in Istanbul stands the gastro-entrepreneur Mehmet Gürs. Through his flagship restaurant Mikla, often cited as the best restaurant in Istanbul, Gürs is one of the leading initiators of a movement based on traditional cooking from the Anatolian region. His current vision for the new culinary concept first emerged in 2009, when he hired Tangor Tan, a food anthropologist who had studied and worked under Slow Food founder Carlo Petrini.

In 2011, the Italian food writer Gabriele Zanatta coined the label ‘New Anatolian Kitchen’, following a presentation by Gürs at the international cooking convention Identità Golose in Milan (Slow Food, 2015). The subsequent year, after several years of research and investigation of the region’s culinary heritage, Gürs finally launched the New Anatolian Kitchen Manifesto, a testimony opening with the following solicitation: ‘Dare to look at the traditional habits, products and techniques with a new and fresh perspective’ (New Anatolian Kitchen Manifesto, 2012, see Appendix 1). Since the manifesto’s launch, Mikla’s anthropologist has been exploring the regional culinary heritage of the countryside, learning about ingredients and methods from different ethnic groups and communities. While on the road to rediscover the ‘Anatolian region’, covering areas from Iran to Bulgaria, the anthropologist has tasted and tried more than 5000 different products and techniques, all of which he has carefully documented and brought back to the Mikla Lab for further exploration and innovation (Shingler, 2017). Thus, Mikla currently sources ingredients from more than 250 small producers in Turkey, Armenia, Syria, Iran, Iraq, Greece and Bulgaria.

By capitalising on his position as a celebrity chef and media darling, Gürs was able to direct attention to his vision. Following the launch of the manifesto several Istanbul-based chefs also recognised the strategic intent and potential in these ideas and began to implement the ideas in their own kitchens. Thus previously separate but similar efforts and ideas were now slowly uniting through one label: New Anatolian Kitchen. The movement gained momentum, as more chefs in Istanbul’s restaurant scene increasingly began serving modern interpretations of traditional dishes based on ingredients discovered and gathered on exploratory trips in the Anatolian region.

In 2013, the movement expanded beyond the high-end restaurant scene, through the formation of the interdisciplinary, non-profit organisation Gastronomika – Repositioning Anatolian Cuisine. The organisation aims to create ‘a multidisciplinary re-identification project’ (Gastronomika webpage, 2014, p. 2) that can allow the Anatolian culinary heritage to meet the preferences of contemporary diners. The organisation promotes itself as ‘an interdisciplinary culinary movement that aims to reposition the rooted Anatolian cuisine domestically and internationally’ (Gastronomika webpage, 2017). Furthermore, Gastronomika intends ‘to reposition the gastronomic, visual and audial narratives of the Anatolian cuisine’ and states its motive ‘to redefine and literally rebrand the Anatolian cuisine’ (Gastronomika webpage, 2017).

Gastronomika comprises an interdisciplinary project team of chefs, designers and historians who collaboratively work to revitalise and transform Anatolian cooking for modern palates. Their goal has been to change people’s perceptions of Turkish and Anatolian cuisine, while using a vast spectrum of traditional ingredients and cooking techniques to create contemporary, relevant forms of local gastronomy (Gastronomika, 2014). By constructing an open, bilingual, public archive called the KaraTahta (Blackboard), Gastronomika attempts to democratise the culinary movement by inviting people to share recipes and knowledge, thereby collectively helping to create the New Anatolian Kitchen. Moreover, the local community is invited to take part in cooking sessions through the initiative #AçıkMutfak (Open Kitchen), in which Gastronomika’s chefs help community members to cook and explore recipes and techniques of the regional cuisine. Gastronomika is working to reidentify and redesign the Anatolian cuisine by giving lectures and seminars, arranging free food tastings, and designing tools that allow people to use traditional techniques in small, urban settings (see ‘drying bag’ example in Appendix 2). The latter concept is called ‘hacking modern kitchen’ and is an ongoing programme for designing and prototyping different design practices to help contemporary urban dwellers make better use of Anatolian culinary heritage (see Appendix 3, New Anatolian Kitchen Timeline).

Data and Methods

The study examines how organisations strategically craft, employ and enact historical narratives to construct a cultural heritage. The New Anatolian Kitchen movement is the empirical setting for studying how a group of organisational actors use history and tradition to construct a culinary heritage as the basis for an emerging movement. Assuming an agentic view of history (Foster et al., 2017; Reinecke & Ansari, 2015), we study how New Anatolian Kitchen members deliberately draw on historical narratives and use selected time frames to construct a particular cultural heritage.

Data collection

We gathered all primary data, including interviews, photos and observations, on site in Istanbul during two intervals in 2015. The interviews, forming the primary empirical foundation of the analysis, consist of 15 semi-structured, open-ended interviews with 16 informants in the culinary field in Istanbul. We conducted several of the interviews in restaurants described as New Anatolian, which allowed discussion of the food served. We recorded all interviews and followed up some interviews with informal meetings and conversations in later visits to Istanbul in 2017. We have anonymised the interviewees and presented them only by their professional roles, due to the political situation in Turkey.

Following Flyvbjerg (2006), we identified the informants through extensive research prior to embarking on the fieldwork and chose them through strategic sampling and their information value based on their prominent roles in Istanbul’s culinary field. We strategically sampled the informants to include various roles (chefs, restaurateurs, food writers, journalists, food researchers and culinary school managers), to represent different institutions within Istanbul’s culinary field, and to reflect involvement in or knowledge of the emerging movement. Despite our challenges associated with accessing the field, the informants proved to be well-connected gatekeepers to Istanbul’s culinary community. With their assistance, we scheduled more interviews, and a snowballing effect (Noy, 2007) occurred, providing access to additional informants and revealing that the group of organisational actors make up a tight-knit community. To better understand their role in the New Anatolian Kitchen, we asked the informants about their background, philosophy and approach to cooking, their views on the current and future state of the New Anatolian Kitchen, and whether they considered themselves to be part of a movement. While some of the interviewed chefs and restaurant owners initially were reluctant to adopt the ‘New Anatolian’ label, they all considered themselves to be part of the movement and supportive of its aim, thus signifying the emergent nature of such processes.

To supplement the accounts and ideational thinking about the New Anatolian Kitchen and to better understand its activities and physical manifestations, we conducted direct on-site observation (approximately 50 hours) of how the movement was enacted and performed. On-site observation allowed us to take photos and record field notes, which helped us to recall key details and develop contextual understanding of the case. Visiting and dining at several of the restaurants associated with the movement allowed us to engage in sensory experiences whereby the dishes served as a medium to stimulate conversation and supplemented the information from the interviews (Pink, 2015). These observational visits also allowed us to document narrative cues expressed through visual and textual material such as interior design, artwork and menu presentations. Tasting variations of New Anatolian Kitchen dishes brought deeper understanding of what the movement entails, by allowing us to compare the chefs’ interpretations of dishes, including the ingredients and styles of plating.

Other observations included witnessing one chef cook, visiting the innovation workshop of another chef, guided tours of two culinary schools, and visiting the headquarters of a non-profit where regular meetings, seminars and food tastings occurred. While visiting the innovation workshop, the first author learned about ongoing experiments, observed different cooking tools and ingredients, and examined photographic material captured during exploratory trips to the Anatolian countryside. These experiences enhanced our overall understanding of how various organisational actors narrate and perform the notion of New Anatolian Kitchen. Moreover, we gathered written documents, such as the movement’s manifesto, to gain insight into the movement’s vision and self-presentation. We also gathered and reviewed documents stating organisational goals, restaurant mottos, menu descriptions and so forth.

Secondary data in the form of media news articles and books supplemented the primary sources. This data was important for gaining deeper understanding of the historical background and the political and socioeconomic context before and after we entered the field (Prior, 2004). We found media news articles mainly through online search engines, such as Google and Factiva, by using relevant key words such as ‘new Anatolian cuisine’, ‘new Anatolian kitchen’, the equivalent Turkish translation ‘Yeni Anadolu Mutfağı’, or the names of chefs and their restaurants. We also collected photographic material (both self-captured photographs and material found online) and video material from YouTube showing members of the movement giving master classes and presentations.

Primary and secondary data sources are presented in Table 1.

Table 1.

Data Overview.

Type of data collected	Overview of informants	Interval 1: March 2015	Interval 2: September 2015	Data use
Interviews: 15	Informant #1-4: Chef and restaurant owner Informant #5: Chef, restaurant owner and food columnist of a daily newspaper Informant #6: Restaurant owner Informant #7: Food anthropologist and chef Informant #8-9: Food activist, chef and non-profit founder Informant #10: Culinary journalist, cookbook author and food consultant Informant #11: University researcher; food anthropology Informant #12: Publisher and cookbook author Informant #13: Culinary researcher and editor of a semi-academic food journal Informant #14: Founder and director of a public (formerly private) culinary school Informant #15: Founder of a private culinary school Informant #16: Director of a private culinary school.	Chefs and restaurateurs: 7 interviews conducted in person; notes taken. Duration: 35 min. – 2 h. Culinary researchers: 2 interviews conducted in person; notes taken. Duration: 54 min. – 1 h. 5 min. Food critics, journalists and editors: 2 interviews conducted in person; notes taken. Duration: 1 h. 9 min. – 1 h. 43 min. Food activists (working for a relevant non-profit): 1 group interview with two co-founders of the organization, conducted in person; notes taken. Duration: 1 h. Representatives from cooking schools: 2 interviews conducted in person; notes taken. 1 interview was a group interview with 6 participants. Duration: 47 min. – 1 h. 23 min.	Chefs and restaurateurs: 1 interview (second interview) conducted in person; notes taken. Duration: 1 h. and 4 min. Food anthropologist: 1 interview conducted in person; notes taken. Duration: 54 min.	Interview data: Provide insight on actors’ role in NAK and how they assign meaning to the NAK label with regard to the past and the present. Interview statements are used to identify narratives concerning NAK. The narratives help us understand the intentions behind NAK as well as its emergence, self-presentation and explanation about the ideas behind the culinary invention.
Observations: ca. 50 h.		Dining at 6 NAK restaurants: 20 h. Visiting and touring two culinary schools: 4 h. Visit to a chef’s innovation workshop: 2 h. Visit to non-profit headquarter: 2 h. Observing a chef cook: 1 h.	Dining at 3 NAK restaurants. Two returning visits: 10 h. Observing a photo-shoot of new dishes for new menu/webpage in a restaurant: 1 h.	On-site observations: Used to supplement accounts and ideational thinking about NAK. Provide us with narrative cues, physical-material manifestations and actions performing NAK in the present. Used to evidence how NAK is concretised, enacted and performed.
Examples of organisational documents		New Anatolian Kitchen Manifesto. Published 2012. Restaurant menus from identified New Anatolian restaurants. Webpage descriptions of organizational/restaurant vision, motto, approach etc. Project description: “Gastronomika: Repositioning Anatolian Cuisine” (12 pages). Pearly Gastronomy guide 2018 (online).		Written material: Public material that is used to provide insight in to the communicated vision for NAK and self-presentation in the public domain. Used to supplement narratives collected via interviews.
Media material		Press clippings containing interviews and portrayals of the movement 2005-2018 from both national and international sources.		Provide external audiences’ view on NAK. Is also used to provide contextual understanding of historical background and present political and socio-economic context in Turkey.
Examples of photographic and video material		Self-captured photos during observations. Master classes given by chefs at summits and conferences (collected from YouTube). Television appearances (collected from YouTube). ‘Feed your soul’ (Ruhun Doysun) series - 11 episodes of 15-25 min. (collected from YouTube)		Some of the material is used to document physical-material manifestations of NAK (fx. Dishes), Other material is used to get examples of public narratives on NAK.

Data analysis

Embarking on the analysis, we used interview transcripts and document statements (e.g. from the manifesto) to identify text segments that expressed particular notions, demarcations and combinations of time and place. Specifically, we noted how organisational actors interpreted and assigned meaning to a label (i.e. New Anatolian Kitchen). Following Gioia, Corley and Hamilton (2012), we embarked on the analysis in an inductive way, reading through interview transcripts, field notes and collected documents multiple times to become deeply familiar with the data. During this process, we noted thoughts and ideas before reviewing the data more systematically.

Subsequently, we began a cyclical process of coding, in which we identified first-order concepts. This helped us to remain as close to the informants’ own wording and opinions as possible, while following up on the broader themes employed in the initial phase. We continually compared emerging second-order themes to specific instances or key events described by informants that applied to the themes and theoretical categories. This included recording the past and present elements of the narratives. We examined how organisational actors sought to construct historical (dis)continuity in their narratives (Zerubavel, 2003), while simultaneously noting elements that were purposely left out or forgotten. Throughout the process, we continually reflected on how these narratives could be interpreted in light of current conditions in the broader culinary and local Turkish contexts (i.e. the Turkish political climate). We further examined how the different informants (mainly the chefs) understood and described their work and how they used narratives to justify current action.

In addition, we analysed photos and film clips, along with text, in a triangulating manner. Through this approach, we examined how the statements and activities of the movement members expressed and manifested the identified narratives materially and symbolically. Specifically, we analysed how notions of past and present were expressed and, subsequently, how such elements were combined in a coherent narrative. We examined not merely the content of the identified narratives but also the ways in which they were structured and performed (Boje, 1991; Mishler, 1995). We also traced how the media conveyed and communicated these narratives.

This first round of coding resulted in an initial list of 24 first-order codes. These included first-order concepts such as ‘few true cookbooks’, ‘influences throughout history’, ‘connotations to Ottoman Turks’, ‘not a Kebab nation’ and ‘childhood memories’, among others (see Figure 1).

Figure 1.

Coding tree

Having identified many first-order codes, we looked for overlap and patterns across the emerging themes. Using meaning condensation, we reduced the 24 first-order codes to eight second-order codes, which included themes such as ‘lack of documentation’, ‘anchoring in the past’, ‘manoeuvring historical layers’ and ‘blending familiar and new for authenticity’. We subsequently grouped these codes into three aggregate forms of ambiguity, which we identified in our data as ambiguity of origin, ambiguity of artefacts and ambiguity of ownership. This reduction was an iterative process, moving back and forth between data and theory, matching theoretical concepts such as ‘strategic ambiguity’ (Eisenberg, 1984) with data-generated themes (Glaser & Strauss, 1967) to provide new insights. Throughout the analysis, from collecting the data to documenting the findings, we continuously revisited the data and engaged in discussions to test and develop mutual understanding of how that data should be interpreted and the theoretical implications of our understanding (Gioia et al., 2012).

In the following sections, we show how the group of organisational actors work to construct a new culinary heritage by drawing on historical narratives and using ambiguity as a strategic tool to create and legitimise such narratives. Considering our data, we specify three forms of ambiguity that enable this construction: ambiguity of origin, ambiguity of artefacts and ambiguity of ownership, which we outline in the following sections.

Ambiguity of origin

Ambiguity of origin concerns how the New Anatolian Kitchen movement has invoked certain historical narratives to intentionally circumvent and ‘outpast’ other historical narratives, in order to construct an alternative narrative located in a vaguely defined, ambiguous past, while inviting identification and helping the movement grow and gain acceptance.

While the informants stressed regional geography and history as the movement’s foundation, we noted how they kept these defining elements vague when describing the kitchen:

The Anatolian kitchen is not restricted to the Turkish or the Ottoman kitchen. All products are of different ethnic origins and religions of Anatolia, the birthplace of cultures during a very long span of time before and after the Ottoman Empire, constitute the kitchen of this region. (New Anatolian Kitchen Manifesto, 2012)

The quotation shows how the organisational actors construct ambiguity of origin by drawing on historical narratives situated in an unspecified, ambiguous past. To do so, they take advantage of the sparsely documented culinary history of the region:

The stuff that’s been there for generations (. . .) for hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of years (. . .) I don’t know anything about it, very little about it. Some theories yes, I know some of it, but the people in this part of the world they have not had the habit of taking notes or tracking their history. You find very few true cookbooks or even history books about what happened a hundred years ago. (interview #1 chef and restaurant owner)

Most documentation and depictions of Turkish cuisine have focused on elite kitchens, developed in the palaces and elite Istanbul circles during the Ottoman era (Claflin & Scholliers, 2013; Pekin & Sümer, 1996). One informant explains: ‘Ottoman cuisine means palace cuisine; away from the people’ (interview #13 culinary researcher and editor), while another informant states:

You can’t get that information from other places outside the palace. You cannot know the people’s food. What they were eating (. . .) I mean it’s difficult. Of course there are books about that, but it’s kind of difficult. (interview #12 publisher and cookbook author)

While scant documentation of the Anatolian kitchen could potentially pose a challenge, the movement uses limited knowledge of ordinary people’s cooking and eating habits as a strategic advantage. In this way, the lack of documentation opens a window of opportunity whereby the group of organisational actors become less constrained in constructing a culinary heritage based on historical resources that fit the movement’s purpose. The under-documented knowledge of culinary history allows the movement’s members to increase their discretionary freedom as they historicise the past. The following statement summarises this approach:

I mean, when I look at Anatolian cooking, I don’t only look at the Ottoman cooking, that’s only one little part in history. Eight hundred years is nothing in human history! It’s nothing. You had the Byzantines; you had the Greeks, and all these civilisations that were here before. When you look at the Ottomans; during the Ottoman years, it was not only the Muslim Turks that were here. You had the Jews, you had the Greeks, you had the Armenians (. . .) you had so many people that were here! All of their cooking is also part of the heritage of this land. (interview #1 chef and restaurant owner)

To assert ambiguity of origin, the notion of ‘Anatolia’ is employed as a label that disregards firm demarcation between previous empires or current national borders. One informant notes,

If you call it Turkish cuisine, you exclude many other cuisines. But when calling it Anatolian cuisine you are talking about a region. So it becomes a regional cuisine, rather than a national cuisine. (interview #11 university food researcher)

By stressing the region’s diversity, the Anatolian label enables the construction of a culinary heritage whose history remains inclusive, flexible and open to renegotiation. In this way, the organisational actors manoeuvre multiple historical layers by employing an empty signifier as the movement’s label:

When we say Anatolia, we don’t just think about Turkey. We think Balkans, Middle East, North Africa (. . .) even Iran and way forward. We think of Spice Road and Silk Road. Because when we say Anatolia, we think about all the influences throughout history. We don’t just limit ourselves to the borders of Turkey. (interview #8 food activist, chef and non-profit founder)

As the previous statement shows, the informant uses the notion of Anatolia in a symbolic way and not in the sense of an administrative unit. It is portrayed as encapsulating the culinary tradition of the multiple and diverse empires, civilisations and ethnic groups that have occupied the region throughout history. By narrating the Anatolian culinary heritage in this way, the organisational actors invite identification by ensuring that the label escapes a clear definition and thereby remains ambiguous, inclusive, flexible and open to individual interpretation.

To affirm the authenticity of the New Anatolian heritage, the cuisine is narratively anchored in an unspecified ancient past. To do so, the organisational actors use specific historical events and references, such as the ancient trading networks of the Spice Road and Silk Road, when describing the cuisine. Making such references promotes a particular imprint of historical rootedness and positions the movement as a continuation and extension of an ancient past. The movement aims, in this way, to validate its cuisine as ‘authentic’ and of great historical significance (cf. Foster et al., 2017, p. 1186).

It’s very deeply rooted, the whole area. I mean, you’ve been here before, so you’ve seen the city and the layers of layers of layers of history. . . of different empires and this and that. (interview #1 chef and restaurant owner)

Trading routes, whose historical traces date as far back as 2000 BC, have traditionally been regarded as the link between East and West, a reference often employed to depict the dichotomy of Turkish identity and culture:

This part of the world (. . .) I’m talking about the pre-Ottoman era, I’m talking Alexander times as well, when you had the Persians fighting the Greeks here. Even back then, this piece of land that we live on today had this weird clash of cultures. (. . .) Traditionally, there’s been a beautiful balance between them. So why not embrace it and see what you can bring out? (interview #4 chef and restaurant owner)

While refraining from mentioning other recent, historical pasts, the movement narrates itself as a continuation of a rooted past in which diverse ethnicities and cultures once lived peacefully side by side. In this manner, they invite identification from a broad array of stakeholders.

Avoiding notions such as ‘Ottoman’ or ‘Turkish’, which refer to a more recent historical past, allows the movement to distance itself from political disputes of the present and recent past. One chef explains:

Just by using the proper wording brings people to being open-minded about a new movement. And that was. . . it was very purposefully done. . . (. . .) if I would say ‘New Turkish’, it would involve Erdoğan, it would involve religion, it would involve freedom of speech. . . or non-existence of freedom of speech (interview #1 chef and restaurant owner)

The decision to use a more inclusive term can be interpreted as a purposeful reaction against an overall trend towards ‘gastro-nationalism’ (DeSoucey, 2010) and an increasingly nationalistic and authoritarian socio-political environment in Turkey. Another informant correspondingly remarks, ‘When you call it Anatolian cuisine it is more politically correct, first of all, and more inclusive, in terms of ethnic cuisines and regional cuisines’ (interview #11 university food researcher). Thus, the label appears as a purposeful, strategic attempt to depoliticise local culinary heritage by ‘outpasting’ a label like ‘new Turkish’ and constructing an alternative, attractive and inclusive label and historical narrative that invites identification.

Ambiguity of artefacts

Ambiguity of artefacts concerns the materiality of the New Anatolian Kitchen and artefacts as historical elements that enable historicising by authenticating and legitimising the strategic historical narrative, specifically by enacting it in the present. It invites recollection through material memory forms, and through ambiguity it creates flexibility that allows the group of organisational actors to innovate by distancing from rigid culinary codes and established ways of cooking. Taking advantage of the symbolic nature of food, the chefs construct strategic ambiguity by blending traditional recipes and techniques. Doing so makes the New Anatolian dishes historically recognisable yet challenging to locate in a specific culinary tradition, and thus, difficult to dismiss as historically inauthentic. By drawing on and playing with different cooking styles and customs, the chefs use combinations of familiar elements in dishes that simultaneously allow ‘for agreement on abstractions without limiting specific interpretations’ (Eisenberg, 1984, p. 231).

Ambiguity of artefacts manifests in several ways, for example, in the dishes served at the restaurants whose components were gathered on inspirational trips across the region (see Appendix 2 Examples of artefacts: Dishes). While constructing new dishes by combining recipes, techniques and ingredients, chefs described how they work strategically to circumvent critique from what they perceive to be a conservative local customer base:

Here [in Turkey], you just cannot take this and do it that way. Because this has been done like this for hundreds of years, and who are you to come and change it? It’s almost sacrilegious to cook a certain way. (interview #2 chef and restaurant owner)

To make room for innovation and avoid such criticism, chefs intentionally refrain from tampering with heavily institutionalised Turkish recipes (e.g. köfte, kebab or baklava). As another chef explains,

Rather than touching these traditional Turkish (. . .) established Turkish recipes, we thought it would be nice to bring in less known recipes, and techniques and ingredients. And play with them. Because that would allow us to (. . .) avoid touching a sacred recipe, but at the same time still be very local, because they are local. (interview #6 restaurant owner)

By drawing on less familiar ingredients, recipes and techniques (like the ‘drying bag’), the chefs strategically work to avoid scepticism and enable innovation. They aim to create a modern synthesis, a ‘unified diversity’ of local traditions by combining different elements into a new yet recognisable whole:

In our menu we have many plates, many recipes that you can find all around Turkey, but they are cooked differently [in different regions]. (. . .) But it’s the same dish with different styles. So what we try to do here is to combine the dish with different styles from Turkey, and create one taste where everyone would feel at home. (interview #3 chef and restaurant owner)

This way of combining elements from different layers of time, geographies and cultures is highly intentional and aims to evoke memories of previous tastes and dishes. The motive is to create recollection and commitment from local audiences by forging a connection between the New Anatolian Kitchen and the diners’ past gastronomic experiences. The challenge is to strike a balance between novelty and familiarity (new but recognisable). Another chef makes a similar remark while presenting and explaining a dish to the author:

It is true to its history, it is seasonally right, it is from this geography and it is (. . .) it doesn’t deny its roots. It is delicious and it is simple. It’s not complicated, but it is fresh (. . .) and new (. . .) and at the same time, my grandmother used to cook it. (interview #6 restaurant owner)

This quote illustrates how restaurants create fusions of regional traditions that are combined strategically to bring forth recollection and recognition from diners and, thus, strengthen the perceived authenticity of the novel dishes. This way of synthesising different culinary customs is a way to create an inclusive, culinary heritage that enables identification from a broad base of potential members and stakeholders: ‘Everybody knows Anatolian [food]. It’s the only thing that they ate in their lifetime (. . .)’ (interview #9 food activist and non-profit founder). Thus, paraphrasing Eisenberg (1984), we may say that by building on such strategic ambiguity regarding artefacts, the group of organisational actors foster agreement on abstractions, in this case the New Anatolian Kitchen, without limiting specific interpretations. By bringing forth recollection and recognition, they also concretise and perform the historical narrative in the present.

Ambiguity of ownership

Ambiguity of ownership concerns inviting participation by reaching out and engaging external stakeholders. We consider ambiguity of ownership to be strategic to the extent that it offers the organisational actors a way to welcome, incorporate and engage the narratives offered by external stakeholders, while still remaining in control of the historical narrative constructed and put forth by the movement. We regard this as an effort to stimulate rather than enforce acceptance and adoption of the narrative.

The organisational actors engage external stakeholders in two main ways. First, they reach out by conducting anthropological excursions in the region and, second, by creating an open-source digital archive. With regard to the historical narrative, ‘ambiguity of ownership’ plays a vital role in organizational historicizing (Hatch & Schultz, 2017), by bringing the historical narrative of the vaguely defined past into the present, by engaging and expanding the number of people and organisations performing the narrative. This is, moreover, a way to support the narrative of New Anatolian Kitchen representing the culinary heritage of the ‘people’, and to distance the narrative from the elitist image of Ottoman cuisine. The organisational actors remain acutely aware of this threat, as New Anatolian Kitchen restaurants largely cater to tourists and wealthy Turkish citizens:

At the end of the day, how many people are going to be able to eat in these restaurants? That’s another thing. I’m not sure if I’d like people to say ‘I don’t like this movement’. (interview #10 culinary journalist, cookbook author and food consultant)

The effort to shield the movement from potential allegations of elitism concerns not only the New Anatolian Kitchen but also other contemporary culinary movements such as, for example, New Nordic Kitchen (Byrkjeflot, Strandgaard Pedersen, & Svejenova, 2013).

To maintain the narrative element of an inclusive movement, a key activity has been regular anthropological excursions to discover, collect and map ingredients, techniques and recipes from villages across the region. All chefs interviewed mentioned regional excursions as a way to find new suppliers, produce and recipes for developing new dishes for New Anatolian Kitchen. By emphasising the broad network of suppliers that helps to build the cuisine, chefs describe the movement as a collective effort and not as belonging to a particular individual or organization, as one informant stated: ‘We need stories. We need to listen to the people in Anatolia. Hear their stories. Go around’ (interview #1 chef and restaurant owner).

In addition to expanding participation through sourcing networks, chefs also mentioned the culinary schools and the next generation of chefs as ways to expand participation and thereby perform and develop the New Anatolian heritage:

I talk to a lot of students. I talk to a lot of the schools. And what’s good now is, there’s actually a lot of something like that on in the market. I can see, when I say market, I can see, yes, the new guys, when they graduate from culinary school, all they want to work with are the local products. All they want to work with is the Anatolian food. (interview #1 chef and restaurant owner)

By engaging external stakeholders such as the culinary schools and next generation of chefs, organisational actors disseminate the historical narrative about New Anatolian Kitchen and expand the potential group of members involved in performing it; in this way, they also disperse the ownership and make it less obvious who owns the movement. Attesting to the spread of the historical narrative and the expansion of the number people involved in enacting it, another informant supports this observation:

Five years ago, people didn’t talk about anything like this. Now, the restaurants, if you consider yourself an ambitious contemporary chef, you are not going to open a French restaurant. No way! It’s going to have some Anatolian twist to it. And that’s amazing how things have changed in such a short time. (interview #10 culinary journalist, cookbook author and food consultant)

Whereas the chefs and restaurateurs mainly draw on sourcing networks and culinary graduates to expand participation in the movement, the Istanbul-based non-profit organization Gastronomika goes one step further to realise the movement’s ambition of co-constructing a new Anatolian cuisine. While the movement thus far has been largely based in Istanbul, Gastronomika also aims to develop its membership base through its online presence. In addition to holding workshops and tastings at their local office, the organization engages external stakeholders by building an online community of supporters. They realised this approach through the construction of the KaraTahta (Blackboard), a co-created, bilingual, digital archive of the Anatolian kitchen, created to decentralise and democratise the movement by inviting people to share their recipes and culinary knowledge. They explain:

We realised, you don’t need that sort of physical borders to be a part of this whole movement. (. . .) Everyone has something to say about this. And we can’t limit this to a 300-square meter place in the middle of Istanbul. (interview #9 food activist and non-profit founder)

Through its digital archive, the movement aims to engage audiences in dialogue by enabling them to actively participate and influence the construction of the culinary heritage. One of the members explains:

We have to expand the scope of what we do and create a kind of online community too. Let’s say, an emotional community. But they don’t have to be physically here to be our supporters. (interview #8 food activist, chef and non-profit founder)

By building an open-source archive, co-constructed with the local and regional community, the organization also aims to concretise the New Anatolian heritage and bring the historical narrative to the present through an inclusive, collective and democratic process that invites participation:

In addition to our role as content creator, we are now designing the platform where people can submit. Because there is no such thing, no such organised unified voice to promote Anatolia. What we are building is going to serve this idea. (. . .) We try to take out the physical part so that you’ll have more freedom. You can put more info whenever you can and however you want to. (interview #8 food activist, chef and non-profit founder)

By decentralising the work and enabling digital access points, ownership of New Anatolian heritage becomes ambiguous, as everyone, everywhere is invited to partake in its construction. In this way, the ambiguity of ownership signals that no single actor may claim exclusive ownership of the cuisine. ‘The New Anatolian Kitchen has no boundaries; it is a way of perceiving food, it is a philosophy that can and should be interpreted in many ways’ (New Anatolian Kitchen Manifesto, 2012). The quote from the manifesto demonstrates the abstracted motive for and philosophy of the creation of New Anatolian Kitchen and the efforts devoted to the venture, or in Eisenberg’s words, ‘creating agreement on abstractions without limiting specific interpretations’ (Eisenberg, 1984, p. 231). Ambiguity of ownership is thus strategic to the extent that it offers the organisational actors a way to welcome and engage narratives offered by external stakeholders, while retaining control of the historical narrative. This finding supports those of Davenport and Leitch (2005) and Jarzabkowski et al. (2010), who showed how ambiguous statements may also be employed for external use to control external stakeholders or to enable collective action. Whereas external stakeholders are invited to partake in the formation of the movement (through recruitment at culinary schools or the open-source archive), the framework in which they are invited to participate has been laid out by the organisational actors. For example, by listing some ingredients as historically significant, while others are forgotten, the organisational actors direct the process of constructing culinary heritage. Although inviting participation signals openness, it also allows the organisational actors to build support, gain creative input and avoid potential charges of elitism. The signalling of inclusion and collectiveness seems particularly relevant for the construction and legitimisation of historical narratives that claim to represent large groups in society.

Discussion

First, we briefly describe how we answered our research question; the remaining part of the section outlines the contributions and theoretical implications of our study. We asked, how do organisational actors use strategic ambiguity to construct legitimate historical narratives of a common cultural heritage? In answering the question, we invoke the idea of strategic ambiguity (Eisenberg, 1984) and suggest that this ambiguity of historical narratives has allowed the New Anatolian Kitchen movement to ‘outpast’ other attempts and position itself as ‘anti-elite’ (Ottoman/Palace cooking) and ‘anti-nationalistic’ (Turkish/Erdoğan). In doing so, the organisational actors protect the historical narrative from contestation and assert the movement’s legitimacy and authenticity, thereby helping it grow and gain acceptance. By invoking the past while preserving a sense of historical ambiguity, organisational actors allow themselves more freedom to innovate and modernise, to introduce new culinary codes and to be more open to new entrants, thereby preventing anyone from claiming exclusive ownership. This process is marked by strategic intent as well as ambiguity, as initially formulated in the manifesto. The duality of strategic intent and ambiguity is reproduced as new organizational actors join and support the movement.

Contributions

Our general contribution lies in theorising a link between historical narratives (Foster et al., 2017) and strategic ambiguity (Eisenberg, 1984) and in identifying three forms of strategic ambiguity that help the movement to construct a common culinary heritage. In this way, we extend research on historical narratives and strategic ambiguity by advancing our understanding of organisational uses of the past. We suggest the term ‘strategic historical ambiguity’ to capture how organisational actors deliberately use ambiguity as a tool to craft and legitimise historical narratives of a common cultural heritage. We define the term as ‘the intentional selection of past events and use of historical ambiguity to craft legitimate historical narratives’. We argue that strategic historical ambiguity involves the deliberate use of several forms of ambiguity. We propose the following model to outline and explain the relationship between the three ambiguities and historical narratives (Figure 2).

Figure 2.

The three forms of strategic ambiguity in relation to historical narratives

The three forms of strategic ambiguity enact the historical narrative in different ways. Ambiguity of origin is most directly associated with the crafting of a historical narrative and the creation of an ambiguous past, and helps the organisational actors invent an attractive, common culinary and cultural heritage.

Invoking strong symbolic and mythologised references to the past makes the historical narrative highly recognisable and difficult to question. The two other forms of strategic ambiguity, ambiguity of artefacts and ambiguity of ownership, involve concretising and enacting the historical narrative, bringing it to the present. Both forms of ambiguity enable historicising and provide authenticity and legitimacy to the historical narrative by linking it to the past and enacting it in the present. Ambiguity of artefacts invites recollection through material memory forms and provides flexibility that, for example, allows organisational actors to innovate by distancing themselves from rigid culinary codes and established ways of cooking. Ambiguity of ownership invites participation and engages new entrants. By being inclusive, the ownership is dispersed, making it less feasible for anyone to claim exclusive ownership.

We suggest that the three forms of strategic ambiguity are analytical distinctions yet intertwined in empirical application. We consider ‘ambiguity of origin’ to be a prerequisite and enabler for the other two forms of ambiguity. Anchoring the cuisine in an ambiguous past allows the organisational actors to blend and synthesise different culinary traditions and to make representative claims by inviting external stakeholders to share their voices and narratives. We further note how the construction of ambiguity of artefacts and ambiguity of ownership, in turn, feeds back into ambiguity of origin. Because organisational actors synthesise traditional recipes and allow external stakeholders to participate in the process of narrative construction (e.g. via KaraTahta), the origin and heritage of the New Anatolian Kitchen never crystallises but remains under continuous construction. Still, ambiguity of artefacts and ambiguity of ownership depend on the movement’s ambiguity of origin narrative. In the following section, we elaborate on these findings and further describe our contributions.

History as strategic asset and uses of the past

Historical claims and narratives are not presented against an empty backdrop; they compete with other historical narrative claims of legitimacy and authenticity (Lubinski, 2018). The New Anatolian Kitchen movement positions itself as ‘anti-elite’ (Ottoman/Palace cooking) and ‘anti-nationalistic’ (Turkish/Erdoğan) and anchors the cuisine in a vaguely defined past. This manoeuvre is enabled by a scarcely documented past. To affirm the authenticity of the New Anatolian heritage, the movement, when describing the cuisine’s heritage, employs historical narratives that anchor the cuisine in an ambiguous past and select specific historical references (e.g. Spice Road and Silk Road). The strong symbolic and mythologised character of such references makes them not only highly recognisable but also difficult to question (Hobsbawm & Ranger, 1983). Our finding resonates with previous studies showing how organisations work to ‘outpast’ others in attempts to assert legitimacy and authenticity through antiquity (Lubinski, 2018; Zerubavel, 2003). We extend this line of research, which implies that the temporality of historical narratives matters, by suggesting how and why events of the past enable organisations to use history strategically. We do this by suggesting that a vaguely defined past can allow greater flexibility when organisational actors construct and employ historical narratives for strategic purposes. We contribute to research on uses of the past by suggesting that to gain legitimacy, organisations may deliberately use strategic historical ambiguity to manoeuvre different historical layers. We further extend recent research that views history as a strategic asset and an arena for power struggles (e.g. Cailluet et al., 2018; Foster et al., 2017; Suddaby et al., 2010) by theorising how ambiguous cues of a past are strategically mobilised to construct legitimate historical narratives. While other studies have noted how context matters when organisations construct and employ historical narratives (e.g. Foster et al., 2011; Mordhorst, 2014; Oertel & Thommes, 2018), we advance this discussion by suggesting specific ways in which organisations deliberately manoeuvre their particular context(s) by mobilising ambiguity as part of their efforts to use history as a strategic asset.

Our findings have two main theoretical implications. First, we extend the research on uses of the past. As field-level historical narratives frequently become a source of public debate and dispute (Cailluet et al., 2018; Delmestri & Greenwood, 2016; Mordhorst, 2014), we suggest that anchoring historical narratives in an unspecified, ancient past reduces the risk of contestation and enables organisations to protect the narratives from being questioned or debunked. Second, we extend research on strategic ambiguity (Eisenberg, 1984) and contribute to recent studies that use this ambiguity to control external stakeholders or to enable collective action (e.g. Davenport & Leitch, 2005; Jarzabkowski et al., 2010; Scandelius & Cohen, 2016). We contribute to this research by suggesting that the opacity and ambiguity of such narratives may be particularly relevant for groups of loosely coupled organisational actors, as such ambiguity allows greater variation of interpretations across groups. By using ambiguity in this way, organisations address a broad base of audiences that may not share collective memories (Foster et al., 2011) or identify with the same historical narratives. These insights seem relevant for other cases. Most obviously, for other types of social movements, which aim to organise and unify diverse groups of actors; but also relevant for organizations and corporations evoking a mythical past to (re)define ‘who we are’ or to (re)brand their products. Examples of the latter would be Marlboro’s evocation of an unspecified ‘Wild West’ in their tobacco advertisements, and a more recent example, Hendrick’s gin, launched in 1999, but evoking a vaguely defined ‘Victorian-like-era’ in its artefacts (bottle and label design) as well as in their advertisements. Last but not least, in the political sphere, politicians’ and populists’ evocation of a mythical (and often glorious) past (e.g. ‘Make America great again’) in nationalistic projects.

By means of strategic historical ambiguity the results of this study show how organisations can create and use historical narratives that are elusive and flexible enough to resonate with multiple groups yet sufficiently specific to appear plausible and authentic. Our findings resonate to a large degree with March’s (2010) suggestion for crafting a convincing historical narrative: ‘Generating an explanation of history involves transforming the ambiguities and complexities of experience into a form that is elaborate enough to elicit interest, simple enough to be understood, and credible enough to be accepted’ (March, 2010, p. 45). We concur with this insight and suggest that strategic historical ambiguity works as follows. (1) When the past is scarcely documented strategic historical ambiguity allows for narrative flexibility. (2) When the past is scarcely documented strategic historical ambiguity reduces the risk of contestation and protects the narrative. (3) When groups of actors are loosely coupled strategic historical ambiguity allows for unified diversity.

Concluding Remarks

We examined how a group of organisational actors constructs and employs historical narratives strategically to construct a common culinary heritage. We theorised a link between historical narratives and strategic ambiguity and introduced the notion of strategic historical ambiguity. We theorised how the construction of ambiguous historical narratives helps groups of organisational actors to co-construct heritage. We identified three forms of strategic historical ambiguity: ambiguity of origin, ambiguity of artefacts and ambiguity of ownership. We argued that these forms of ambiguity, constructed and enacted through historical narratives, material memory forms and inclusion, enabled the nascent culinary movement to anchor itself in the past while developing support in the present by inviting identification, recollection and participation.

Our findings suggest that anchoring historical narratives in an unspecified past may not only shield the narratives from being offset by competing narratives (Lubinski, 2018) but may also serve as an inviting purpose, because narratives of ambiguous origin allow many stakeholders to identify with the proposed history. Ambiguity of origin thus invites identification. Furthermore, we suggest that historical narratives, which are presented not only as written statements but also in ambiguous, material memory forms such as culinary ingredients and dishes, represent a strategic approach to creating and supporting shared historical narratives. Specifically, we show how the ambiguity of artefacts invites recollection of the past, as material manifestations of historical narratives allow multiple interpretations to exist among people who perceive themselves to attend to the same narrative. Finally, we suggest that organisational ambiguity of ownership invites participation. Through inclusion and blurring the lines of narrative ownership, the construction of heritage becomes a process of both top-down driven action and grassroots involvement and participation, making it difficult for anyone to claim exclusive ownership.

In sum, we argue that strategic historical ambiguity allows the creation of shared narratives of the past, which are used to legitimise the construction of heritage. We conclude that strategic historical ambiguity enables organisational actors, such as the New Anatolian Kitchen movement, to construct a culinary and cultural heritage by suspending the formation of clear-cut historical narratives.

Supplemental Material

Appendices – Supplemental material for Inventing Culinary Heritage through Strategic Historical Ambiguity

Supplemental material, Appendices for Inventing Culinary Heritage through Strategic Historical Ambiguity by Sophie Marie Cappelen and Jesper Strandgaard Pedersen in Organization Studies

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

We express our gratitude to our colleagues participating in the OT Publishing Workshop at the Department of Organization at Copenhagen Business School, for their insights and feedback on an earlier version of this manuscript. We appreciate the feedback and suggestions provided by the audience when presenting earlier versions of this work at the 12th Organization Studies Summer Workshop in Crete; at the SCANCOR-Weatherhead Centre Conference, Harvard University; at the SCANCOR seminar series, Stanford University; and at the Imagine. . . Creative Industries Research Centre seminar series. We thank our corresponding guest editor, Juliane Reinecke, as well as our three anonymous reviewers for invaluable feedback. Finally, we thank the leadership and members of the New Anatolian Kitchen movement for granting us access to their organization and for their generosity in sharing their experiences and hopes with us.

Funding

The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Supplemental material

Supplemental material for this article is available online.

Author biographies

Sophie Marie Cappelen is a PhD fellow in the Department of Organization at Copenhagen Business School. Her PhD research deals with the role of temporality in the construction of identity in different organizational contexts. At CBS, Sophie is affiliated with the Center for Organizational Time and ‘imagine. . . Creative Industries Research Center. Her research interests revolve around temporality, organizational identity and creative industries.

Jesper Strandgaard Pedersen is Professor of Organization Studies at Copenhagen Business School, serving as Director of imagine . . . Creative Industries Research Centre, and as Chair of SCANCOR. His primary research interests are concerned with organizational and institutional change, institutional action and field structuring. Studies include cultural transformation processes in high-tech firms, post-merger integration processes, and diffusion and translation of managerial concepts and practices in cultural-creative and knowledge-intensive firms. Recent research focuses on cultural intermediaries and evaluative practices in the fields of film and gastronomy. He has co-edited: The Negotiation of Values in the Creative Industries: Fairs, Festivals and Competitive Events (2011, Cambridge University Press) and Technology and Creativity: Production, Mediation and Evaluation in the Digital Age (2020, Palgrave Macmillan).

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