"What do you mean, there is no boss? How does it work then?" was a common reaction to my proud announcement that I was joining New Internationalist magazine, a media workers co-operative. "Who takes the decisions?" they would ask. "We the people," I'd reply.
A completely different reaction came from my parents, who were born in a country that (thankfully) no longer exists – the USSR. The haunting image of kolkhoz, or Soviet collective farms (a perverted version of co-ops, which in reality trampled all the principles of co-operation), left them cautiously hostile to "collective work", which in the kolkhoz version produced injustice and apathy rather than co-operation for common good.
But – phew – a creative co-op is nothing of that sort. Co-ops are businesses which belong to and are governed by their members; there are no investors to slave for; profits and losses are shared equally by the co-op. It's a group of people working together on equal terms – even salaries at New Internationalist are at flat rate (although as an intern I earn considerably less).
As for workers' rights, labour law authors in this country should be proud: holidays, time off, overtime and taxes are all respected. It's also transparent: financial data is never hidden, and every penny is accounted for.
So it's no wonder that at New Internationalist, work-related stress became a visitor rather than a constant companion. My previous job was full of autocratic managers, so to my own horror, when I started here I actually found it hard to get used to not being constantly controlled and spied on. I finally let go of my bitterness and admitted: yes, it feels good to be trusted; it makes you do your best to live up to that trust.
Three main things I noticed during my early days here: first, the lack of hierarchy and consequent shared responsibility; second, the most popular sentence in the office is "what do people think about this?"; and third, the sheer number of meetings – group, team, co-op meetings, and an occasional crossword-solving one, albeit unofficial.
The meetings are real time-suckers, because every tiny decision has to be approved by others; consult is the key, demand is a no-no. But I soon realised that's inevitable in this decentralised work model: there really is no boss to order people around, we do it ourselves.
OK, how does that work? Well, efficiently. The usual editorial tasks apply: researching, writing, editing, arguing, agreeing. I manage my own time, a skill very useful for a career in any business model. Moreover, all business levels from design to sales are covered by the pool of professional skills in the co-op: writers write, accountants count, and my role is that of a junior co-editor (producing content, researching info and images, contacting contributors... I made tea several times, too, but that was not compulsory). The difference is that instead of reporting to a boss, we report to each other.
In New Internationalist's case, it's practising what you preach: the magazine reports on global (in)justice, so it's only natural that justice is served in its own environment.
It's about empowering people to decide for themselves. And decide they do, everything from cover image and ideological line to word count and newsstand price. Co-editors also participate in magazine marketing, finances and design, so much so that the result indeed feels like one's own offspring.
The trust and empowerment that a co-op is built on makes you accountable to the strictest judge of them all – yourself. Laziness and disengagement lose their meaning when one feels valued.
But make no mistake: there are downsides of a co-op, too. Discovering that secret dictator inside you, for one ("So I'm not as nice and co-operative as I thought I was?"). But, more importantly in this mad, mad 24/7 world, is the speed at which things get done.
Due to the very nature of a co-op, certain inefficiencies, such as personnel difficulties, can be allowed to continue. Because everyone's responsibilities in the co-op are interlinked, it sometimes becomes a trap as some people are faster in managing them than others. Disciplining a co-op member is very difficult: telling someone their work is not good enough requires massive cautiousness, and if hints are not understood, it may get dragged out for weeks.
As a result, relatively small changes to the way things currently run might get dragged out for weeks – a process of inclusion, yes, but also of frustration. This is due to the consensus decision-making rather than majority or top-down models – so everyone's opinion counts, but it takes a while to count them all.
The challenge for modern media, especially for busy dailies and TV news, would be to successfully evade this time-consuming element of the co-operative model. Legendary (or mythical?) personal egos in journalism are another matter, as are predatory personalities – these types would find it hard to fit in a co-op without damage done. But those apart, today's media could definitely use elements of co-operation to the benefit of all involved and the business itself. It might not be the exact New Internationalist version, but surely a mixture of shared responsibilities, less hierarchical order and efficient business practices would have an appeal?
The co-op model works – it has worked for New Internationalist for four decades now. My colleagues say it would be a nightmare to return to the mainstream way of working in which, to borrow Orwell's words, all are equal, but some are more equal than others. People just don't want to leave New Internationalist. Perhaps that says it all.
