When the Rulebook Runs Out

‘Management is an art, not a science.’

I remember reading this in a chapter of my undergraduate Principles of Management course. As someone thoroughly fascinated by the non-technical, social and creative aspects of management, this resonated with me. However, as the course progressed, I saw that we restricted all our discussions to a framework, or a template. Each idea had a blueprint, or a method of execution. That led me to wonder: “So is there no freedom? Is there no creativity? Is there no art in management?”

Judgement Over Rules

I was proven wrong quickly when I encountered the Netflix case. Netflix removed many formal controls: no fixed vacation policy, limited approvals and radical transparency. Reed Hastings trusted judgment over process. Instead of rules, they relied on context-driven decision-making by employees. Netflix proved that great leadership was not about having perfect rules, but about designing conducive environments where good judgement could emerge. The Netflix culture handbook was a testament to this practice, and I was in pure awe when I learnt about it.

Another way to look at this is by considering what firms like McDonald’s and Ikea do. They are multimillion-dollar companies that understood the same products cannot be launched in all geographies, and that an intricate understanding of local society is necessary to succeed. Ikea appears to be the ultimate champion of standardisation: flat-pack furniture, uniform store layouts, identical product names and a globally recognisable brand identity. But guess where the art shows up — in the workplaces. In Sweden, their home market, flat hierarchies and informal decision-making feel natural. Employees are comfortable challenging managers, meetings are consensus-driven and authority is subtle. 

However, they could not even think of replicating this structure in a high power-distance economy like India or China. For instance, Ikea India adapted store layouts to accommodate larger family groups and food menus to include local vegetarian preferences. None of this came from a global “best practice” manual. These decisions were made by managers exercising judgement: observing behaviour, listening closely and adjusting without diverting from core brand values. No leadership framework can prescribe how much hierarchy is appropriate, when empowerment becomes confusion, or how cultural norms should reshape authority. These are not technical decisions — they are interpretive ones.

Turning to everyone’s favourite, McDonald’s, which is cited as the epitome of operational consistency. Globally, they maintain strict food standards, safety norms and a unified brand identity. But if you look at their menu, it is carefully tailored to suit religious and societal preferences. No Indian outlet serves beef, and they have created aloo tikki burgers and piri piri masala to match Indian consumer expectations. This proves that even the most process-driven organisations rely on human judgement at the edges. A global brand needs local leadership, and that comes from people who understand the nuances of a specific region because they have lived there, not because they studied it in a textbook chapter.

Values Under Pressure

One of the most personal instances for me, however, is how the Tata group responded after the 26/11 blasts in Mumbai (my hometown). On November 26, 2008, the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel, a Tata enterprise, became one of the main targets of the Mumbai terror attacks. In those hours, what mattered was not a protocol or a crisis manual — it was people. Waiters, housekeeping staff, security personnel, many of them barely trained for something like this, helped guests find their way through smoke-filled corridors, stayed behind to guide others and, in some cases, did not make it out themselves. There was no playbook for grief at this scale. It was a moment that demanded judgement, not instructions.

In the aftermath, the Tata Group made choices that went far beyond insurance coverage or legal liability. These were not acts of risk management, but expressions of responsibility. They committed to standing by the families of those who were injured or killed, with long-term support that included children’s education, healthcare and financial security. They also offered employment to families as a symbol of belonging and support. What stands out for me is how, in a moment where there were no clear rules to follow, Tata chose to act in a way that reflected who they were as an institution. This choice was deeply human, quiet and contextual — precisely the place where management stopped being a science and started becoming an art.

Management cannot be reduced to formulas because it is practised on people, not just problems. The real essence lies in ambiguity, where we must interpret before we execute. And that very act of interpretation is, in my view, what makes management an art, not a science. 

Is there no art in management? Our course discussions were confined to frameworks and templates — every idea a blueprint. Is there no freedom? No creativity?

At Netflix, formal controls were removed and judgement was trusted over process. Leadership was not about perfect rules, but about designing environments where good judgement could emerge.