Increasing Human Efficiency in Business A Contribution to the Psychology of Business — A Reader’s Guide

Analogy as Argument: From Lion Cubs to Executives

Scott builds his case through extended analogies drawn from animal behavior. In the chapter on "The Love of the Game," he describes a young lion stalking prey for pleasure, a greyhound chasing mates, and a squirrel storing nuts—all acting from instinct, not training. These examples serve a dual purpose: they naturalize the concept of instinctive work enthusiasm and imply that such enthusiasm is a biological inheritance. Scott then pivots to human examples, citing Grover Cleveland fishing and Theodore Roosevelt hunting big game. The reasoning is analogical: just as the lion cub loves the fight, the businessman should love buying and selling. The analogy flatters the executive by aligning his work with primal, noble pursuits. However, Scott does not claim that all workers possess this instinct; he acknowledges that some instincts are "specific—even stereotyped" and not subject to change, using the bee's fixed honey-gathering routine as a counterexample. This careful qualification prevents the argument from becoming a simple exhortation to enjoy one's work.

The Rhetoric of Instinct and Cultivation

Scott navigates a delicate rhetorical balance between determinism and possibility. He states that classifying love of the game as an instinct "seems to admit that it is born and not developed"—a potentially discouraging conclusion for employers. But he immediately counters: "Fortunately it is not the whole truth." The text then distinguishes between stereotyped instincts (like the bee's) and variable human instincts, leaving room for cultivation. This move is crucial for the book's practical aim: if love of the game were entirely innate, managerial intervention would be futile. By arguing that human instincts are more plastic, Scott preserves a role for the executive to foster enthusiasm. The language is measured: he writes that some men possess the instinct and others do not, but that cultivation is possible. This hedging reflects the nascent state of industrial psychology, where Scott must assert the field's utility without overpromising.

Direct Address and the Implied Reader

Scott's prose frequently addresses an implied reader: the executive or manager. In the opening chapter, he writes that "the modern business man is the true heir of the old magicians," placing the reader in a position of power and agency. Later, he notes that "every employer feels the need of such an attitude towards work, both in himself and in his men." This direct address creates a sense of shared concern and positions the book as a tool for the already-motivated leader. The language is confident and declarative: "The subordinate possessing such love of the game and independent of others for his enthusiasm is sure to rise." Such statements offer a clear, actionable principle while reinforcing the reader's role as a judge of character. The implied reader is not the worker but the one who must select, motivate, or inspire workers—a choice that shapes the book's perspective on efficiency as a top-down project.

Diction of Transformation and Waste

Scott's word choice reveals a worldview centered on conversion and salvage. In the first chapter, he writes that "the profits of to-day are wrung from the wastes or unconsidered trifles of yesterday." The verb "wrung" suggests effort and extraction, while "wastes" and "unconsidered trifles" imply that value is hidden in what is overlooked. This diction frames efficiency as a kind of alchemy, turning dross into gold. Similarly, the phrase "the only factor which has withstood this wizard touch is man himself" casts the worker as a stubborn residue resisting transformation. The contrast between the transformed physical world and the unchanged human factor is sharpened by words like "discarded" and "substitutes." Scott's language consistently emphasizes action and change: "increase," "develop," "transform." Even the book's title—Increasing Human Efficiency—uses a verb of growth. This lexical field reinforces the book's core argument: that human performance, like industrial processes, can be systematically improved.

Readers approaching this text should attend to how Scott constructs his authority: he borrows from biology, psychology, and business lore, weaving them into a persuasive but speculative framework. The excerpts show a writer who is as concerned with rhetoric as with evidence, using analogy to make instinct theory accessible to a managerial audience. The book is best read as a document of its era—a moment when psychology was being recruited to solve industrial problems, and when the language of efficiency was still fresh. Scott's arguments, though dated in detail, reveal the enduring appeal of framing work as a natural, instinctive pursuit.

Scott’s faith in redirecting human instinct reminds me how much we inherit, not just from psychology, but from those who industrialized our grandparents’ world. There’s a strange comfort in that continuity. For anyone quietly curious about those earlier builders, perhaps The Age of Big Business: A Chronicle of the Captains of Industry — Reading Notes might sit well alongside it, like two old photographs from different drawers.