The use of management controls to progress emancipation Open Access

Management controls (MCs) provide organisations with tools and procedures to influence behaviour and align actions with goals perceived important. Organisational actors select and combine MCs to convey key goals and administer, enculturate, plan, measure, and reward actions performed to achieve the goals (Malmi and Brown, 2008). The politics of setting goals and actions entangles MCs in issues of power and framing. MCs persistently combine in response to powerful, influential actors’ interests such as profit or risks (Jollands et al., 2018; Laguecir et al., 2019; Mouritsen et al., 2022). Notably, the potential for emancipatory progress in and through MCs has seldom been explored (Lowe et al., 2020).

A stream of critical accounting research analyses emancipation in terms of movement that occurs when actors seek to progress a plural society. The critical perspective conceptualises accounting as operating along a continuum, where its role can range from conventional to emancipatory. Accounting can progress conventional or emancipatory goals depending on how it is designed and used and the contexts in which it operates (Brown et al., 2015; Gallhofer and Haslam, 2019). Understanding accounting as a contextually situated practice (Gallhofer et al., 2015) opens opportunities to progress emancipation in and through any accounting functioning. This expansive accounting delineation has implications for internal accounting performed by organisations (Masquefa et al., 2017). For example, specific combinations of MC and use can support actors in gaining the skills and agency to progress emancipation (Bryer, 2014).

The potential synergy between MC and emancipation may have significant relevance for advancing critical accounting as an Indigenous project. Indigenous people have skilfully used accounting to propose alternative viewpoints yet struggled to unwind oppressive corporate practices (Norris et al., 2022; Osman et al., 2021). To unravel this complexity, Bryer (2023) endorses research that goes beyond demonstrating contrasting worldviews on accounting (Chew and Greer, 1997). We know that accounting tools have exploited Indigenous people (Finau et al., 2019), severing connections they once had (or could still have) with their broader community and environment (Lombardi, 2016). Critical accounting research presents an opportunity to understand and support the practice of integrating a wider range of goals and abilities within organisations (Bryer, 2023).

This present study will examine how MCs combine in progressing emancipation. A qualitative case study is used to analyse the MCs of an Indigenous organisation (IO) and a non-IO cooperating to progress emancipation alongside business goals. Ethnicity influences MC design and use (Efferin and Hopper, 2007). Indigenous people skilfully adapt MCs to suit their diverse social and cultural capitals and rich identity (Fukofuka et al., 2022; Fukofuka and Jacobs, 2018). MCs are also operationalised differently by IOs compared to non-IOs. Even though Indigenous people skilfully mobilise MCs that challenge dominant business framings, in what manner and the implications are less obvious (Fukofuka et al., 2022).

The study makes three key contributions. First, it provides knowledge about where and how MC combinations progress emancipation. Social actors from both an IO and non-IO successfully combined MCs to progress emancipation within their respective organisation’s. However, the MCs failed to progress emancipation when each organisation partnered together to deliver a project. Successful MC combinations formed part of a shifting cultural consciousness that social agents cleverly enacted internally. Meanwhile, ethnic tensions presided over the project.

Second, it identifies MCs for progressing emancipation and their dynamic interaction with contexts including situations of ethnic pluralism. At an organisational level, the IO prioritised cultural controls with management’s ethnic identity inspiring their use. A broader mix of new and existing MCs (e.g. socialisation practices, sub-contractor lists, and strategic and financial objectives) were primarily used at the project level and helped to mobilise management’s cultural preferences. The emancipatory potential of this accounting was undermined in situations of ethnic pluralism. Social actors at the non-IO mobilised cultural preferences to align MCs to a business framing. A preference for administrative and cybernetic controls used for conventional (regressive) purposes meant that narrowly defined targets and ethnic viewpoints dominated the project agenda.

Third, the concept of enabling accounting is theorised following an extensive analysis of the MCs developed and combined by an IO and non-IO. For the IO, business projects were a means to ensure that others (e.g. land custodians) had adequate resources to conduct their customary duties. Consequently, the idea of profit assumed a broader, emancipatory role in helping the IO account for others’ potential. This finding suggests that enabling accounting could help with rebuilding connections that Indigenous people once had (or could still have) with their broader community and environment (Bryer, 2023; Lombardi, 2016).

The rest of this paper is structured as follows. The next section reviews the literature to explain key concepts inspired by the potential for organisations to combine MCs that align with reconciliation ambitions. After that, we present the methods, followed by a report of the findings highlighting workplace practices by the joint venture partners for reconciliation. The study then discusses the emancipatory potential of MCs in the reconciliation context before concluding.

Australia’s reconciliation movement is an underexplored area to examine the emancipatory role of MCs. Strengthening the relationships between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians is the core objective of reconciliation (Reconciliation Australia, 2021). Indigenous Australians continue to face marginalisation with poorer socio-economic outcomes than their non-Indigenous peers. Despite efforts to close inequality gaps in Australia, government reports reveal a lack of progress in key areas like employment and education. For instance, in the 2020 fiscal year, 49% (75%) of (non-)Indigenous Australians were engaged in employment, education, or training fully (Australian Government, 2020). Moreover, IOs have limited economic opportunities. IOs earned $4.9bn (Evans et al., 2021) out of the $3.8tn all Australian organisations earned in 2020 (Australian Government, 2022).

The Reconciliation Action Plans (RAPs) were launched in 2006 by Reconciliation Australia, an indigenously operated Australian government agency. Enabling organisations to take meaningful steps to advance reconciliation is fundamental to this program. Over 1,100 organisations have elected to implement RAPs since 2006, documenting their plans to close gaps of inequality through reconciliation initiatives, such as creating Indigenous employment, training, and procurement opportunities. Reconciliation Australia specify three pillars for organisations to include in their RAPs: relationships, respect, and opportunities. Organisations are also given a template that lists the minimum required actions and deliverables for aligning reconciliation initiatives with each pillar (Reconciliation Australia, 2020).

RAPs are strategic documents that support organisations in providing sustainable and strategic solutions to close inequality gaps experienced by Indigenous Australians. If non-IOs want Government contracts, these organisations are encouraged to implement RAPs and adhere to mandated Indigenous procurement policies (Australian Government, 2020b). However, there could be a serious disconnect between what organisations document in their RAP reports and what they practice because organisations voluntarily undertake documented actions. For example, despite implementing comprehensive RAPs, global mining organisations like BHP and Rio Tinto defied traditional land owners’ wishes and destroyed ancient Indigenous heritage sites (Ingram and Juanola, 2021).

At their core, RAPs are aspirational and mostly contain a “wish-list” of what organisations would like to achieve over a future time frame (like many emancipatory projects). As RAPs are voluntary, they lack any external governance or monitoring framework. Thus, accountability for organisational commitments made through RAPs is heavily reliant on MC. Similar to other forms of disclosures (Brown and Dillard, 2015a), corporate Australia can conveniently control the narrative on reconciliation. Thus, will organisations with RAPs deliver any tangible outcomes towards reconciliation, and on whose terms?

The various MCs combined to address specific problems can be classified into administrative, cultural, cybernetic, planning, and rewards and compensation controls. Administrative controls direct employee behaviours by facilitating accountability and specifying expected standards and methods for executing tasks (e.g. policies and procedures). Cultural controls communicate an organisation’s beliefs and norms via mechanisms such as ceremonies, rituals, symbols, and value statements. Cybernetic controls include traditional accounting tools such as budgets and performance measures which monitor actions and compare outcomes to desired targets. Planning controls include long-range schemes focused on determining a strategic direction to guide future activities and action plans with a tactical focus on identifying desired activities for the immediate future. Finally, rewards and compensation controls encourage desired actions by providing employees with financial or non-financial incentives (Malmi and Brown, 2008). We use this body of knowledge to identify MCs used in the RAP implementation network, based on their technical attributes.

However, MCs are not merely a technical matter (Efferin and Hopper, 2007). MCs confer power to actors (e.g. people and organisations) by legitimising their goals and decisions. MCs have been described as an ultimate colonising tool. MCs were central to colonialism, established to commoditise nature and human labour for financial gain (Bryer, 2023). These colonial strategies and controls, now entrenched in organisations, undermine Indigenous experiences, traditions, and values (Chew and Greer, 1997; Fukofuka et al., 2022). IOs often report and communicate their value using MCs that reinforce dominant economic agendas, relegating social and cultural capital to the periphery (Ferry and Slack, 2021; Lowe et al., 2020).

Ethnic groups can struggle to prefer accounting which maximises their skills and knowledge (Alawattage and Wickramasinghe, 2009; Fukofuka and Jacobs, 2018). Fukofuka and Jacobs (2018) demonstrate how national and village level actors resist oppressive conditions. In negotiating World Bank projects in Tonga, skilful actors engaged in political contestation and leveraged their social networks, seniority, and education to redirect accounting requirements. The World Bank’s (coercive) administrative and reporting demands (e.g. MCs) were even leveraged by these actors (with emancipatory intent) to mobilise their own business and cultural interests. Hence, the World Bank’s dominance was mutable; the “diffusion and trickle down of accounting practices […] hit local cultural politics” (Fukofuka and Jacobs, 2018, p. 622). Notably, the Tongan actors were well equipped to negotiate their interests and resided within an independent state.

The contexts and backgrounds of organisations and their members influence MCs. Thus, MC combinations that fail to accommodate diverse perspectives can be undermined. In studying Chinese-Indonesian entrepreneurs, Efferin and Hopper (2007) posed that capitalist considerations and ethnic tensions influenced the extent to which MCs are combined. Cultural values were contingent and only intermittently influenced MCs. Ethnic affiliations (e.g. belonging to an ethnic minatory group) impinged on MCs and employee responses to control. Thus, MCs that are selected and packaged to contend with business interests are somewhat aligned with cultural and ethnic concerns. Yet, research into accounting and control practices in national contexts is scant, presenting vague insight from ethnic perspectives (Baskerville et al., 2016; de Lautour et al., 2020; Fukofuka et al., 2022).

A stream of critical accounting research views emancipation as an ongoing and multifaceted process. Emancipation is a gradual, networked process rather than a single, radical transformation. This critique recognises that actors constantly change their interests and identities when interacting with each other. Thus, emancipation is better understood as movement that occurs when actors come together to negotiate their differences and participate in progressing a plural society (Gallhofer and Haslam, 2003, 2019). The critique promotes accounting as a way of progressing emancipation. The link between accounting and emancipation is understood in terms of progress along a continuum as opposed to a dichotomy (Bryer, 2014; Gallhofer and Haslam, 2003). Accounting can move in the direction of greater emancipatory progress in some contexts but not in others.

Emancipatory movement can be mobilised “in and through accounting” (Gallhofer and Haslam, 2003, p. 10). In terms of the former, accounting comprises different elements (content, form, usage, and aura) which interact in various ways to facilitate progress (or regress) along a continuum. Accounting’s content (e.g. numbers, lists, and profit calculations, etc.) and form operate as an integrated whole (Gallhofer and Haslam, 1996). The form of accounting shapes how its content is presented and the media through which information is conveyed. The usage of accounting determines who engages with it, and for what purpose. Finally, accounting’s aura reflects its perceived status and role within society (Gallhofer et al., 2015). The relations between these elements have emancipatory (or repressive) effects. A financial statement that promises limited emancipation, can progressively change by assuming other elements (Gallhofer and Haslam, 1996). Emancipation also progresses through relations between accounting and context. The emancipatory potential of a budget can be undermined as it interacts with an organisation’s pre-existing MCs (e.g. hierarchical structures, excessive approval controls, and poor planning) and governance structures (Ferry et al., 2021).

One notable proposal for progressing emancipation in and through accounting is to facilitate discussion and debate to reorganise power relations and framings (Brown and Dillard, 2015b). Accounting has the potential to be emancipatory or repressive at any given time (Brown et al., 2015; Gallhofer and Haslam, 2019). However, accounting’s emancipatory potential is often suppressed by the influence of powerful interests. Progress towards emancipation is also hindered when actors tacitly accept framing effects like notions of profitability, revenue, and expenses (Fukofuka and Jacobs, 2018).

A more emancipatory and enabling accounting ^[1] is encouraged to support movements towards emancipation (Brown and Dillard, 2015a; Gallhofer and Haslam, 2003; Masquefa et al., 2017). Accounting can be made available to actors with multiple and often conflicting agendas to corporations such as those of animals (Laine and Vinnari, 2017; Vinnari and Laine, 2017; Vinnari and Vinnari, 2022) and Indigenous communities (Tanima et al., 2021; Wimalasinghe and Gooneratne, 2019). Accounting can also establish and maintain relations that enable diverse actors to bring “multiple truths to power” (Brown and Dillard, 2015a, p. 263). A key consideration is how MCs combine in progressing emancipation.

Accounting is constructed by heterogenous actors (Briers and Chua, 2001). These actors continuously (re)draw boundaries around accounting (e.g. altering accounting elements and contexts), bringing them in contact with other actors whose goals, abilities, and perspectives differ. This boundary work brings actors from different social worlds and geographies together to progress emancipation (Brown and Dillard, 2015b). For example, combining accounting with the agency of civil society (e.g. grassroots movements, non-government organisations, and advocacy groups) has helped actors to build new theory and practices for integrating wider goals and abilities within organisations (Catchpowle and Smyth, 2016; Spence, 2009). Activists have engaged accounting constructed outside of organisations to connect their political demands with a theoretical critique of capitalism and align them to the struggles of other social movements (Cooper et al., 2005).

Boundary work also brings actors together to develop the agency to progress emancipation. An actor’s agency in terms of their participation in accounting is reciprocally related to their agency in wider associative actions. And when these interdependent relations are strong, actors can progressively reorganise power and framings to foster a pluralistic society (e.g. move away from general concerns about profit, etc.). A study of eight Argentinian worker cooperatives found that members who participated in the budget planning and control function developed the skills and agency to progress emancipation (conceptualised as ontological movement). This participation and agency enabled members to progress emancipation in the form of resisting dominant agendas, moving beyond business-case framings, and encompassing broader goals and abilities (Bryer, 2014). This framework is extended in the present study which explores MC combinations that progress emancipation. The study explores how heterogenous actors such as MCs acquire agency through their involvement in translation.

This study employs the actor network theory (ANT) concept of translation to investigate different ways in which actors (e.g. people and MCs) collectively progress emancipation. Translation typically involves four stages. An actor network initially forms around focal actors who seek alignment on a problem definition. In this problematisation stage, actors continuously and actively frame a problem space within a socio-technical network. Numerous strategies are then employed to convince, seduce, and coerce other actors to form alliances and solve the problem. These strategies, which are employed during the interessement stage, compel actors to align their interests with the network to facilitate the smooth flow of actions towards a shared goal. The success of such trials (and thus the strength of the problematisation) depends on whether actors support or reject the proposed course of action ascribed to them (Callon, 1986). After this enrolment stage has occurred, actors ideally then work together to address the defined problem. However, it is no guarantee that actors will become spokespersons (mobilisation stage) for the goals of the group (Law, 1992).

Actor networks are a precarious achievement. The four translation stages imply an end point. Ideally, actors settle their differences and mobilise the network’s goals (Callon, 1986). However, translations are never final, they continually confront local resistance. New actors constantly dispute claims mobilised by prior network actors. The new critiques can lead to a modification or adaptation of an object (e.g. framework, model, or plan, etc.) within an actor network (Latour, 1986). A stronger opposing translation may emerge and redirect actors towards an alternative direction than their original network goal (Callon, 1986). Thus, focal actors are constantly working to keep others interested in goals that hold the network together. This vulnerability compels analysts to be open-minded about which actors occupy dominant or marginalised positions and their potential to progress emancipation. What matters is how relations within actor networks form and achieve agency.

ANT provides an alternative critical view compared to other well-established emancipation approaches in accounting. An ANT approach downplays the role that social structures like capitalism and colonialism play in organising relations into forces that shape agency (Modell, 2020). Social structures are viewed as dynamic actor networks with somewhat contingent compositions. The opportunity for emancipation derives from exposing this contingency (Michael, 1996). Powerful actor networks can facilitate the institutionalisation of oppressive forces. Local resistance is the means through which such dominant forces can be altered or stopped. Incidentally, a critical ANT approach is about disrupting existing assumptions and certainties rather than directly seeking emancipation (Doolin and Lowe, 2002). The intent is to transform local resistance into emancipatory actions (Baxter and Chua, 2017). By analysing and demystifying powerful (or powerless) actors, analysts can reveal how to modify or adapt the assembly of dominant actor networks (Baxter and Chua, 2020; Law, 1992).

ANT’s anti-essentialist stance treats social and technical actors as potentially equal. Social actors play an important role in the translation process: an object (e.g. a RAP or implementation framework) either stops or is taken up by others. However, an object’s movement is sustained by the collective efforts of every actor who interacts with it. Anything that materialises in people’s minds is inscribed as words and images (e.g. technical actors). The thing must be objectified before it can travel (Latour, 1986). Thus, relations between actors are not pre-configured by fixed social structures but assume different content and geographies depending on translation processes. In this sense, translation has a semiotic meaning. When an object is transferred to people, its meaning is transformed in different ways. Translation also implies movement in a geometric sense. Objects can be transferred from their current context into a new context where they may be operationalised and institutionalised (Latour, 2013).

The concept of translation is used in this study to explore how various actors are engaged in accounting and positioned to progress emancipation. An actor’s agency in terms of engagement with accounting and broader contexts is important in progressing emancipation (Bryer, 2014). From an ANT perspective, emancipation involves forming new actor networks and reconfiguring existing ones. MC combinations might support (or undermine) actors in generating the conditions for mobilising emancipation. This process requires a transformation in the socio-technical networks that constitute organisations such as artifacts, social relationships and roles, and the regulatory environment. These networks are interconnected, with each influenced and shaped by others, making it difficult to navigate situations of ethnic pluralism.

Reconciliation is a complex agenda requiring Indigenous and non-Indigenous views. Given the aim to probe a plurality of perspectives on a relatively underexplored topic, we conducted an exploratory qualitative case study (Hansen, 2011) of the RAP implementation network in two partner organisations. The case study was appropriate because RAP implementation requires MCs to be introduced or altered to somewhat support reconciliation, as per implementation contexts. Hence, this study examined how MCs combine to progress emancipation in practical ways. The approach to studying reconciliation is linked to work that calls for accounting research grounded in relationality and privileging Indigenous people (Fukofuka et al., 2022; Scobie et al., 2020). A case study allows for building rapport with Indigenous people and respecting their cultural protocols, which was critical to authenticate the research findings (Smith, 2012).

First, we selected Wula (pseudonym), a privately-owned Indigenous construction organisation, because of its size, its vision to advance reconciliation, and for having a formalised RAP (an uncommon characteristic for IOs). Indigenous people comprise 25% of Wula’s workforce and occupy both managerial and operational roles; despite significant under-representation of ethnic diversity in Australian workforces (Soutphommasane, 2015). We followed actors (Latour, 1999) involved in implementing the RAP to identify the reconciliation actions embedded therein and see how they were operationalised with the support of MCs. We found that a joint venture partnership between Wula and a publicly listed non-Indigenous construction organisation (NICO) would provide a useful frame of analysis to address the research objectives. The NICO provides construction and property investment services to international clients, producing billions in annual revenue and employing thousands of people.

The partnership established between the two organisations to construct a major precinct for a large Australian government department satisfied mandated targets to improve Indigenous procurement. This policy objective forces organisations, such as those sampled in this study, into joint venture partnerships. Given that IOs are comparably smaller in size and struggle to win government contracts (Scobie et al., 2020), selecting a comparable non-IO was not possible. The focus was, on investigating how reconciliation was translated therein via MCs, which can alter the meaning of business or cultural performance. We initially explored how each organisation’s MCs made reconciliation valuable and manageable. We then scrutinised the performance of reconciliation initiatives in the context of a major government construction project involving Wula and the NICO.

We gathered data from archival records and timed interviews with participants, as indicated in Table 1. An initial meeting was held with Wula’s chief executive officer and cultural development manager, who provided access to relevant documents for analysis. We collected documents (including annual reports, policies and procedures) and the RAPs between February and December of 2020 and stored them using the NVivo software for analysis.

Using an ANT-inspired approach (Jollands et al., 2015), we perused the documents to identify how different MCs (e.g. strategic plans and policies) were packaged in the context of reconciliation. We used content analysis to pinpoint MCs and reconciliation initiatives defined within the RAPs and other documents; participant interviews allowed for understanding their translation into practical workplace issues. Conceptually, we examined how diverse MCs in the RAP implementation network influenced business goals to operationalise reconciliation. At an operational level, we measured five types of MC systems used in RAP implementation by analysing how the sampled organisations introduced, altered, and used administrative, cultural, cybernetic, planning, and reward systems (Malmi and Brown, 2008). We explored how these five systems of control translated emancipation in the sampled organisations, who had pledged to advance reconciliation via their respective RAPs.

Between March 2020 and February 2021, we held and transcribed interviews with key informants from both organisations. After the initial meeting with Wula, we used the snowball technique (Hansen, 2011) to select and follow a sample of participants. We used this same technique with the NICO, following an initial introduction by Wula’s managing director to their Indigenous program manager. Subsequently, we conducted interviews averaging 60 minutes in duration with participants in leadership and operational roles in both organisations, together with external advisers such as Indigenous elders. Each participant played an active role in the RAP network by overseeing implementation or managing business structures and cultures that support reconciliation. Thus, the interviews offered useful insight into how each organisation implemented its RAP and used MCs to progress emancipatory actions outlined in the documents.

We developed a coding process to track the MCs referenced in the RAP or implementation documents of each organisation. Initially, we used words and themes to categorise the data (Krippendorff, 2004) into preliminary codes derived from existing theoretical perspectives and then integrated them with empirical findings. As the MCs were broadly associated with reconciliation activities, we employed themes to capture and analyse the content. For example, each organisation’s RAP referred to rituals and ceremonies such as “welcome to country” or “acknowledgement of country” (a type of cultural control system). However, thematically analysing the meaning of the text that referred to MCs was more likely to elicit subjectivity. Reconciliation activities like “welcome to country” were explicitly mentioned in archival documents, whereas references to controls were broadly stated. Following the analysis, we then developed an understanding of the MCs each organisation employed to facilitate an inclusive process of accounting for emancipatory actions. We could subsequently compare and further refine the relative importance of the five MCs to RAP implementation, and reconciliation more broadly, during the interviews.

The analysis of interview data involved reviewing transcripts and company documents using NVivo software. Codes originated and evolved from iterations between participants’ practical descriptions of MC practices and theory. Theories about MC types and their selection and combination for different operating conditions and interests helped determine appropriate data to code. Additionally, inductively derived codes captured data about the different interests and strategies pursued by actors, such as ensuring that project, sub-contractor, and employee actions are visible and performed as planned. Beyond identifying the consequential roles played by humans and non-humans (Callon, 1986), we analytically distinguish producing emancipation from including issues of ethnicity in MC. Specifically, we focused on analysing how the MCs of two organisations with different cultural backgrounds (e.g. orientation to ethnic and national culture) translated emancipation. We also coded background information about each participant and organisation and used it to contrast different views on the translation of emancipation into practice via MCs.

We systematically ensured the plausibility and validity of the coding and analytical processes. Theoretical sampling grounded preliminary codes in concepts from the literature. We identified and later analysed any incongruences between collected data and preliminary codes to determine whether new categories or subcategories were appropriate. This iterative process moved between data and theory to increase the credibility of the encoded text in new categories (Cho and Lee, 2014). Each interview was conducted and analysed by the first author (native to Aotearoa, New Zealand) with support from the second author (of Aboriginal descent). Following each interview, we conducted collaborative yarning (Bessarab and Ng’Andu, 2010) to reflect on the data and substantiate key cultural concepts. We invited the participants to a yarn when key concepts required further clarification (we recorded and transcribed six hours of informal yarns).

The findings document how MCs combine to progress emancipation, emphasising the different translation processes of an IO and non-IO. Each organisation materialised reconciliation by introducing a RAP into their business (Section 4.1) and attempted to operationalise reconciliation initiatives in a joint venture project (Section 4.2). A primary translation outcome was achieving Indigenous employment and spending targets set for the project (Section 4.3). However, the joint venture partners failed to coalesce around this goal. In keeping with the conceptual and theoretical frame, actions undertaken by the two organisations that contributed to emancipatory progress are described.

The RAP originated from the wider social movement towards reconciliation in Australia. The RAP aims to empower Indigenous Australians through employment and business opportunities (e.g. developing Indigenous business capability through procurement). Reconciliation Australia has created a standardised RAP framework and implementation template for use by all participating organisations (e.g. IOs and non-IOs). The RAP of both Wula and the NICO closely followed Reconciliation Australia’s framework and template. Each organisation translated Indigenous peoples concerns into a series of actions, deliverables, and timeframes distributed across specific pillars (e.g. relationships, respect, and opportunities) (Document_4). Despite the unified approach to progressing reconciliation initiatives, the priorities and purpose of RAP implementation varied, as this section discloses.

Driving reconciliation in Australia, which was an important strategic objective for Wula, was instrumental in calculating the value of business practices. In reflecting on his story—being raised by a non-Indigenous father and an Indigenous mother—the managing director said “it hurts, and it’s embarrassing [to think about] the difference in opportunity and where my dad’s family is at compared to my mum’s” [Wula_5]. Appreciating first-hand the marginalisation of Indigenous people gave him “a real drive of what to do with the business. My focus is trying to engage and assist other Indigenous businesses and people” [Wula_5].

From Wula’s perspective, duly recognising the cultural and business capabilities of IOs was an important issue regarding the problematisation of RAP implementation. The senior manager revealed an apparent need to defend Wula’s capabilities and success and that of the employees. She suggested that IOs “have to develop marketing strategies to overcome cultural bias and a genuine negative perception about Aboriginal business. [Non-IOs] expect us to fail. They expect us not to be very good. They expect us to have to be babysat more than your white business next door” [Wula_3].

MCs underpinned Wula’s determination towards implementing a RAP in two key ways (e.g. interessement devices). Firstly, the RAP helped Wula to legitimise their cultural and business capabilities with potential partners. From the view of working in an IO, a sense of subjugation to Western views altered the way the MCs were perceived, ironically. The role of MCs for Wula in emancipating soft prejudice based on low expectations of success was alluded to. MCs acted as discursive practices used to reframe ideas about IOs: “We developed a MythBusters marketing campaign to demonstrate that our staff are university-trained, including Aboriginal staff. I think they think that you just don’t have credible people behind the business” [Wula_3]. This campaign tracked and communicated various measures of success regarding Wula’s financial performance, operating procedures, project milestones, and resourcing (cybernetic controls). “We have got to show them that we’re capable. So, whether it be the $15m profit job in [site location] or the $200 million job at [site location …], we give them varied examples” [Wula_3].

Secondly, the RAP implementation process inclined Wula to translate and refine existing reconciliation initiatives using MCs like governance structures, plans, and achievable performance targets. As RAPs provide organisations with a framework to develop respectful relationships with Indigenous communities, for IOs, such initiatives seem counterintuitive. When initially contemplating a RAP, the managing director of Wula asked, “Why are we doing one? We do it anyway” [Wula_5]. A contract manager also initially questioned the importance of implementing RAPs: “We’ve been doing these sorts of [reconciliation] initiatives for some time now, so I didn’t think we really needed a RAP, to be honest” [Wula_4]. Upon reflection, this manager suggested that the RAP “provides a bit more boundaries and structure to it. By formalising it, you have something to review and measure [regularly] and see how you’re tracking rather than just going off your initiatives when you have the time to think of it. You are more responsible and committed to it” [Wula_4]. Similar sentiments were conveyed by Wula’s senior manager, who suggested that Wula had undertaken a “RAP in reverse”. As she explained, “RAPs are typically for white businesses to say, ‘Well, we’re going to engage with 20 other Aboriginal companies.’ The purpose of our RAP is to show businesses that Aboriginal companies can be successful and can have really high standards of governance” [Wula_3].

The space for reconciliation within the NICO’s construction practices was somewhat contested. The NICO, a much larger organisation than Wula, has operating contexts inclined towards bureaucratic ideals; such a situation is typical for such an organisation (Janka et al., 2020). As the Indigenous program manager noted, “[The NICO] is a large corporation where its structure is like a government” [NICO_1]. He stated that “you have so many different sections internally with [the NICO] that sometimes messaging […] can be slow and also tied up in a lot of policy and hypocrite” [NICO_1]. The executive leader for the RAP used metaphors like “spearhead”, “steering wheel”, and “weapon” to describe the role RAP played in driving internal changes. She highlighted how the RAP implementation process helped to “expose inefficiencies. It’s exhausting for us though, because we seem to be trying to solve these enormous structural and policy types of issues” [NICO_4].

From the NICO’s perspective, transforming construction practices was an important issue regarding the problematisation of RAP implementation. The executive lead for RAPs recognised the NICO’s role in altering Indigenous culture and heritage: “As a developer, maybe unwittingly […], we’ve profited from years of dispossession of First Nations people. We’ve actually disrupted and disturbed the songlines ^[2]” [NICO_4]. The NICO’s historical role in cultural devolution now presented a unique opportunity for cultural restitution: to put Indigenous “culture, languages and placemaking thinking back into the design and operations of our [construction] developments, and then change the way the industry thinks about it” [NICO_4]. Thus, key NICO actors had to be convinced about the value of having construction projects as spokespersons for the views and aspirations of Indigenous people.

A blend of top-down directives and bottom-up grassroots initiatives (e.g. interessement devices) were enacted to catalyse the translation of industry construction practices. In the early stages of introducing the RAP, the NICO were fortunate to have senior managers who were focused on social impact initiatives: “they were setting up diversity councils, looking to become responsible corporate citizens, and driving the employer-of-choice concept” [NICO_4]. Nevertheless, a key task regarding RAP implementation was convincing senior management that reconciliation elevated the NICO’s state of leadership within the construction industry. Various MCs were used (e.g. policies, performance measures, and benchmarking initiatives) for this purpose.

The executive lead for RAPs stressed the need for a “human rights policy. The United Nations (UN) is talking about it, and [NICO] is a signatory to the UN Global Compact, and this human rights framework is the next logical step” [NICO_4]. Links between RAP implementation and the UN Sustainable Development Goals (UNSDGs) strengthened the mandate for reconciliation: “It was too easy for the global leadership team to dismiss it as something Australian: ‘The RAPs are just a little Australian thing, just an Indigenous thing’. We’ve got them to the point now where they’re going: ‘This is a human rights thing’” [NICO_4]. Senior management perceived RAP implementation as a tool to facilitate the integration of the UNSDGs into business practices. The 2020 NICO annual report acknowledged that the RAP is a mechanism to show operational performance towards Indigenous human rights (UN Global Compact Principles one and 2) by emphasising the NICO’s commitment to Indigenous communities and supporting their country connection.

RAP implementation was also used to legitimise the NICO’s approach to construction with external bodies. The NICO reinforced the cultural integrity of their construction practices by reporting successful outcomes to Reconciliation Australia. The RAP included a statement from Reconciliation Australia that acknowledged the NICO’s “past successes and ongoing commitment to reconciliation” and referenced the NICO’s “meaningful partnerships with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people and communities” [Document_4]. The executive lead for RAPs also presented their reconciliation achievements “at an investor briefing and sustainability market briefing where representatives from investment bodies such as banks and unit trusts were in attendance” [NICO_4].

Indigenous employees played an integral role, gluing reconciliation initiatives and MCs together. The executive lead for RAPs celebrated being a long-standing employee who had “done the hard yards on the tools and built up a [good] reputation: ‘I was trusted enough to build [reconciliation] seamlessly into our business purpose, values and policy’ [e.g. cultural controls]” [NICO_4]. This translation work involved engaging people from diverse departments who could localise the RAP using MCs. A set of actors with the skills and confidence to undertake and distribute emancipatory work to others was mobilised. The executive lead for RAPs acknowledged “two beautiful non-Indigenous colleagues who know the business inside-out and are relationship-minded. They know who the key influencers are. They know how to plug the RAP into all sorts of [MCs], whether it’s the corporate affairs plan or business planning processes” [NICO_4]. She explained the importance of having “strong personalities: people who were bold enough not to worry about constantly seeking permission and instruction, but support each other if anything went wrong” [NICO_4].

Counter narratives were used at a grassroots level to facilitate the diffusion of RAPs within the NICO. The executive leader for RAPs delivered “what could be considered very political blogs for a big corporate organisation. ‘I call out Australia Day, genocide, and overincarceration. And I’ll immediately get 300-plus reads when posted which is more than most people in [the NICO] get [overall]” [NICO_4]. She discussed the importance of engaging people at a job and personal level: when “people can see that it is valuable work, they begin to get involved and drive getting things done as part of their daily role” [NICO_4]. Generating this groundswell of support helped the NICO shift business processes towards more inclusivity to provide people and communities with collaborative duties in the construction projects. The executive leader for RAPs indicated that the “intention was always to embed [reconciliation] in the business processes, and, to that end, we’ve called upon lots of people, whether corporate affairs, communications people, or construction managers, to engage them early on” [NICO_4].

Momentum for reconciliation changed once proponents managed to get “RAP objectives into the strategic plan—what makes this stuff good business and makes sense for what you want to do […]. The purpose of our company has changed to be[ing] about creating a thriving community. So, [RAPs are] even changing the way we position ourselves” [NICO_4]. The executive lead for RAPs outlined the updated business “model of really working closely with Indigenous land councils and bringing First Nations’ thinking and systems into projects early […] in the piece” [NICO_4]. The ability to engage communities in collaborative “placemaking practices” was touted as a core capability of the NICO, central to its new purpose. RAPs were becoming increasingly vital in fulfilling this strategic ambition. The NICO applied learning from engagement with IOs to successive projects, as per the executive leader:

The NICO’s systemic shift towards an inclusive, relational approach to construction disrupted prevailing industry norms. “We’ve now got the businesses to concede that they can’t do things without having those [Indigenous community] relationships, [contrary to how] construction people traditionally think. They’re very technical-, process-, and outcome-oriented” [NICO_4]. However, the emerging response to this mismatch in control orientation (from technical to relationship controls) highlighted a paradox with the NICO’s reliance on MCs (e.g. administrative and cybernetic controls like policies, MOUs, and performance targets): More “technical” control was sought to strengthen “relationships” with Indigenous communities and organisation.

The development of performance management systems at a business level within NICO helped with monitoring the delivery of RAP initiatives. The NICO’s comprehensive reporting platform was an important MC for managing reconciliation initiatives undertaken (e.g. enabling management from a distance). The executive leader for RAPs described how the “RAP dashboard” enabled her to track reconciliation outcomes within the organisation. Such cybernetic controls allowed her to “track the procurements and track employment in [NICO] to really make sure that everybody’s looking at it and delivering on our commitments” [NICO_4]. Proponents of the RAP were challenged with aligning these calculative devices, problematised at apex of the organisation, to the needs of local communities, contracting staff, and other key stakeholders: “It’s much slower on site; but, in having that regulatory environment to drive behaviour, now they know that they [must] respond to targets and plans” [NICO_4].

The findings in the following section show conflicting views prominent in the RAP implementation network. At the project level, the determination towards implementing a RAP involved locking contractors, contract managers, and project deliverables into specific roles relating to the reconciliation agenda. The emancipation involved implementing construction practices to economically empower IOs (e.g. contractors), despite consequences for project profitability.

The bureaucratic orientation of the NICO’s business structure and MCs influenced how reconciliation outcomes were negotiated at the project level. The NICO’s contract manager reflected on the important “cascading effect” of MCs: “the goals that are set in the RAP are then filtered through, say, business unit goals” [NICO_2]. When targets documented within RAPs are “passed on to regional business units, then those regional business units will push those requirements down onto the projects individually” [NICO_2].

The Indigenous program manager explained how the NICO is typically the main contractor, while project managers tendered work to sub-contractors. MCs such as Indigenous procurement and employment targets were used to centre contracted project work on reconciliation objectives. “All the targets with [an] obligation to the Aboriginal Participation in Construction policy ^[3] are passed onto the sub-contractors who work for [the NICO]. We rely on the contractors to have that involvement and […] participation” [NICO_1].

The NICO gradually aligned its internal systems and supply chain with RAP objectives to advance interest in reconciliation. The executive leader for the RAPs at the NICO referenced work being undertaken to “accurately and transparently capture data through the supply chain. To date, we’ve only been largely reporting what [the NICO] has been in control of. We’re now working to get the actions and data throughout our supply chain right” [NICO_4]. Guidelines for implementing the “[NICO] way of working on placemaking” [NICO_4] were progressed, and clauses were inserted into standard legal contracts to incorporate First Nations’ thinking into projects. Performance targets were also introduced for reporting on the number of procurement leaders engaged in target setting or IO’s involved with the NICO directly and indirectly. Following this translation of existing business practices, the executive leader acknowledged that the NICO “was starting to see [sub-contractors] get on board and want to support RAP efforts.” She suggested that sub-contractors were “driven by wanting to do the right thing and having targets applied to them through their contract with the NICO” [NICO_4].

Despite embedding the reconciliation agenda within operational agendas and formalised reporting tools, reconciliation was more malleably constructed than objective performance targets, such as Indigenous procurement and spending. While MCs were used to make the embedded reconciliation agenda within RAPs visible to the NICO’s sub-contractors, driving the reconciliation agenda was not explicitly prioritised by sub-contractors. The executive leader for the RAPs described an example where many non-IOs “promise great employment outcomes, […] and all they’re doing is rotating Indigenous employees—making a profit by rotating employees through 13, 16 weeks’ work rather than long-term, meaningful employment” [NICO_4].

Wula maintained an empathetic approach. For Wula, unspoken MCs like discriminatory selection and retention practices (e.g. ethnicity-orientated cultural controls) ensured that Indigenous businesses and people were prioritised. Prior hardships experienced by Indigenous minorities were redressed through special measures ^[4]. “I’ve got no qualms—if it’s a toss-up between Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders and someone else—in giving them [the IO] the work. Why? Because the last 250 years have been so lopsided” [Wula_5].

Wula empathised with the challenges confronting some IOs they had helped. Beyond technical competence, many contracts required adequate quality assurance certificates along with supply and performance history: “You have to understand that for some Indigenous businesses, this is new to them. They’re really good at what they do, but they might lack the back-of-house policy and procedure needed to work on state or federal government contracts” [Wula_5]. With the challenges came opportunities for Wula to develop mutually beneficial long-term solutions and mentor IOs. The comments underline Wula’s visionary focus to invest in reconciliation to improve opportunities for Indigenous communities and organisations:

Consequently, the translation of reconciliation within each organisation varied. Wula established meaningful connections that advanced the capabilities and skills of communities and IOs (e.g. contractors). A relational, empathetic approach was evident during discussions on Indigenous cultural spending. A senior manager explained how potential joint venture partners often approach Wula: “Who do you give back to? What do you give back? What percentage of your profits do you give back?” [Wula_3]. Representatives explained that Wula’s commitment to reconciliation was “based on upskilling, supporting, and developing Aboriginal people and businesses” [Wula_3].

For the NICO and their sub-contractors, reconciliation initiatives remained in tension with corporate business goals, such as the profitable and timely delivery of projects. The NICO’s contract manager described how contracts placed with sub-contractors included percentage targets for Indigenous procurement and spending. However, “if they don’t achieve that, I’m very limited in terms of what I can do. I can use moral pressure, but I can’t stop works or say ‘you’re in breach of contract because you’re not providing that commitment’” [NICO_2]. He continued, “I’m not going to cut off my nose to spite my face: I can’t let the project fail because one element is not doing what they should” [NICO_2].

The NICO’s reliance on bureaucratic delegation and retrospectively enforced policies and targets made it difficult to account for IOs’ self-determination needs. The contract manager of the NICO outlined his responsibilities “as somebody who’s procuring on behalf of the Commonwealth. I can’t single out the Indigenous business […]. I can’t be seen to isolate or favour one business, which is tricky” [NICO_2]. The NICO’s administrative and cybernetic controls acted as strategic construals in moderating laws. “The Commonwealth does have exemptions in place to allow me to employ Indigenous businesses directly without going through the wider procurement process. However, I must demonstrate value for money, and that’s not always possible with Indigenous businesses” [NICO_2].

Rather, project-based representatives from the NICO externalised reconciliation challenges. The contract manager indicated that the project with Wula was challenging to distil into smaller deliverables so the NICO had to “push our [Indigenous engagement] targets onto sub-contractors. The smallest works package that we’ve [permitted] as a company is in the order of $5m, which for local Indigenous businesses is probably a step too far regarding stepping up and engaging directly with us” [NICO_2]. Wula’s managing director suggested that representatives from non-IOs were “programmed to say: ‘It doesn’t work like that.’ They still think that you’re not large enough to do a decent job” [Wula_5].

Challenges in enacting reconciliation extended beyond business settings to education and pathway programs; for example, in growing the mix of specialist Indigenous employees and organisations. According to the NICO’s contract manager “there’s only a finite [number] of Indigenous resources—say construction managers, engineers or IOs—that the industry can call on. [Thus], 3% is a really tough target to hit in certain aspects when you just don’t have the resource there […]. If a contractor says, ‘No, I can’t find the Indigenous employees to carry out my works—my works are specialist and there’s nothing available in the market’. There’s very little I can do” [NICO_2].

From the NICO’s perspective, solutions for resolving apparent resource challenges were contingent on having organisations reinforce Western ethnocentric practices. The NICO’s contract manager highlighted the importance of awarding contracts to IOs like Wula with adequate managerial systems. Thus, to develop skills to undertake high-value contracts, this manager suggested “partnering with a business [where] either you’re doing very similar things or you’re doing slightly different things that complement each other [and] use those systems and structures [for] leverage […] and get used to it rather than trying to go it alone” [NICO_2].

Contract managers at Wula were entrusted with handling cultural connections at the project level. A contract manager noted that “[Wula’s] manager’s run projects and divisions in slightly different ways” [Wula_4]. When asked how this enabling approach to MC impacted the implementation of reconciliation initiatives, he suggested that “it’s up to them at the end of the day, unless there’s some sort of direction from senior management” [Wula_4]. This flexibility provided managers with the ability to use controls that ensured local concerns for reconciliation were prioritised. The manager explained how each “new project is another opportunity that we can rethink what we do a bit and think about [the] engagement of Indigenous businesses” [Wula_4]. He shared the importance of controls in creating cultural engagement anew; for example, having “local elders perform cultural training on job sites and speaking to staff adds to that cultural education” [Wula_4].

A manager from Wula described how local Indigenous elders provided support and guidance to employees working on projects: “I actually contacted an elder in the community and he had a bit of a chat with [employee’s name], and [employee’s name] has picked up since then” [Wula_6]. Retaining underperforming employees was not conducive to short-term project performance, but nurturing and upskilling Indigenous people was essential to Wula’s business strategy, providing long-term rewards.

Wula established ongoing partnerships with Indigenous communities to help them participate in and benefit from business projects. It aimed to help Indigenous communities develop the knowledge and skills to improve socio-economic outcomes, such as employment prospects. Per the senior manager, training and upskilling Indigenous communities challenged traditional objectives to maximise profitability and customer retention: “We’re upskilling them [regarding] how we’ve done the work—all of our procedures, sharing all of our management systems—so that they can upskill their local community to then complete that work. Now, after four years of doing that, we’re transitioning that contract back to the community so that they take it on” [Wula_3]. This arrangement was planned from the outset: “It’s [about] respect. We are working on their land; they [simply] didn’t have the know-how” [Wula_3].

While advancing reconciliation was an engagement precondition at Wula, embedded within diverse MCs, cybernetic controls were not prioritised in gauging project performance. A contract manager explained how reconciliation initiative expenses, such as training and mentoring programs, were reported “from an overhead point of view. [However], within the project, I wouldn’t say there’s an actual cost code or budget put aside for cultural spending. It’s more something that we manage based on the project itself” [Wula_4]. This strategy towards reconciliation is distinctly different to one focused on meeting political targets and agendas. Rather, the goal is to “just try and, wherever [Wula’s] working, have a relationship with that community and try and give back to that community by engaging them” [Wula_3].

Opportunities for reciprocity with Indigenous communities and organisations were presented to the NICO. Wula’s managing director explained how he organised “Indigenous businesses to introduce themselves and see how they could fit into the packages of works with the larger contractors” [Wula_5]. Despite significant interest from non-IOs in the “speed networking event”, this interest did not translate into improved outcomes for IOs when the project commenced. When the works “packages started being submitted to the winners—Oh, the margin wasn’t as great now, so the first thing cut was the Indigenous stuff. It’s like an extra. It’s a cherry on top for them” [Wula_5]. He voiced the need to embrace calculative logic and shift to a new mindset that broadly defines investments of finance and time (e.g. reporting systems that adequately disclose long-term environmental and social impacts).

Comments by the NICO’s contract manager belied the idiom of a “cherry on top”; arguably, it is more a matter of “perspective [regarding] the start-stop nature of construction projects”. This characteristic of projects was inconducive and disheartening for IOs looking to establish a pipeline of work. “I think a lot of Indigenous businesses struggle in terms of we go through a process where we’re on the way to engaging you, but then if the dollars aren’t there, the client can say ‘Okay, I’m not going to do that element of work now”’ [NICO_2]. The Indigenous program manager at the NICO recognised the magnitude of challenges faced by IOs: “These businesses aren’t as established as some mainstream [companies] and, therefore, their resource and time [go] towards creating a pipeline of work and keeping their head above water” [NICO_1].

Having to prioritise project deliverables over Indigenous needs, the NICO struggled to build up trust with the IOs. The contract manager suggested that “trust seems, rightly or wrongly, more important to Indigenous businesses than non-Indigenous businesses. And that trust can be eroded very quickly if the process can’t be followed through for whatever reason” [NICO_2]. The manager highlighted the benefits of working with Wula regarding improved communication with the IOs: “The fact that the feedback does come to the joint venture is a good thing because you don’t always get what the feeling is. You just get the formal correspondence a lot of the time through emails, through phone calls, and there are times when I’m separated” [NICO_2].

Regarding MCs, when asked what needed to occur to advance reconciliation, the construction manager suggested tailoring performance targets to joint venture projects. RAPs “should be specific [to joint venture projects] because I think you’ll get much more engagement from your workforce if [the RAP is] specific and they can tangibly see [implementation outcomes]” [NICO_2]. If “you’re joint venturing, you can come up with your own RAP. We, for example, have a social legacy plan that we would put together and […] would be a joint venture document, but I think they need that scenario [for a RAP]” [NICO_2].

Wula attempted to use MCs to propose new directives for the RAP implementation network. The formalisation of culture alongside existing health and safety systems and processes involved making changes to the online safety portal such that cultural-related “documents, systems, policies and training initiatives were stored there. [Safety software name] is one of the main tools to streamline communication processes” [Wula_3]. The senior manager described this transition as a socio-technical process involving work with “[Consultant company name] and [Wula’s health and safety manager] work together to get in order to design and change [Safety software name]” [Wula_3].

This formalisation of cultural initiatives had the intent of locking employees and contractors into the cultural responsibilities proposed for them. Specifically, the senior manager reinforced Wula’s commitment to strengthening connections between cultural initiatives and MCs: “I want to embed culture more so that it is monitored and then acted on like what we do with International Organisation for Standardisation (ISO) aspects of quality, environment, and safety” [Wula_3]. She explained their uncompromising “emphasis on construction site safety, whereas culture (if it’s not done properly) can be another risk for staff” [Wula_3]. In her opinion, “people see culture as an extra layer; no, culture extends what we’re already doing, because it’s inherent in who people are” [Wula_3]. Such initiatives were not reciprocated.

Given the drive and ambition for reconciliation within Wula, management recognised the importance of inducting and socialising employees and contractors to align with RAP objectives. When asked about the use of cultural awareness training at Wula, the administration manager (who was also on the RAP committee) stated that employees and contractors must “have undertaken it before they even [take] on a full-time role with us to get to know the cultural base” [Wula_1]. Similarly, the managing director reflected on the importance of partnering with employees and contractors enthusiastic about promoting the cultural milieu at Wula: “Otherwise, it’s not going to work. I don’t want someone doing this because I want them to do it. I want them to do it because they want to do it’. He explained how Wula had “gone into businesses and had said, ‘I don’t want to work with you because you’re doing this [for the wrong reasons]’” [Wula_5].

The joint venture project with Wula helped the NICO achieve its reconciliation goals. According to the NICO, the project was successfully completed, pioneering Indigenous outcomes. Relative to the government’s minimum target of 1.5% for the number and value of Indigenous contracts (NSW Government, 2021), “that project had a 5% target to reach as an amount of spending. The project was $230m. [However, we spent] over $13m on Aboriginal participation, employed over 100 Indigenous people, and had something like 25 Indigenous apprentices on the project” [NICO_1]. Reflecting on the project’s success in Indigenous cultural spending and employment, the contract manager celebrated “being involved in the Supply Nation Gala Awards dinner, and then to get recognised as one of the winners […]. I wouldn’t have had any chance without the partnership with [Wula]” [NICO_2]. In his opinion, the achievements were “definitely something that we’ll be promoting internally and externally in terms of that’s kind of the new bar; that’s what we can achieve” [NICO_2].

However, Wula’s senior manager wondered whether more could be done to authenticate the reconciliation initiatives embedded within non-IOs’ RAPs. While non-IOs were required to work with IOs to win government contracts, prevailing operational strategies were inflexible. “We’re big value for our joint venture partners because [Wula] has got a good reputation and name throughout the Indigenous business sector […]. The difficulty we face is, because they’re often a bigger party, they tend to manage things their way, which is not always culturally appropriate” [Wula_3].

Despite the joint venture project’s success in exceeding Indigenous spending and employment targets, Wula’s motives for mobilising reconciliation via RAPs were deflected. Wula’s managing director questioned the effectiveness of the targets, suggesting that non-IOs like the NICO and their sub-contractors “hit their target [and think] there’s 3%, sweet, done! Then, they don’t even look at other businesses. It’s like tick, done” [Wula_5]. He compared the different approaches to reconciliation between the two partners: “They do it because the targets are there. It’s just a different mindset. We do it as part of our [daily] work” [Wula_5]. When asked about managing targeted cultural spending, Wula’s managing director said, “We don’t have a system in which we regulate that, we just do it. I know if it was a comparable spend, we’d be way in front. [However], we don’t gauge that spending. It’s just something that we do” [Wula_5].

For Wula, reconciliation was intrinsically linked to MCs like strategies, plans, and employment policies and practices reducing the need for performance targets. Emotive elements embedded in organisational culture and processes were challenging to translate into economic and politically oriented performance targets, such as mandated employment and spending targets. The managing director of Wula suggested that targets must be challenging or be linked with additional controls (e.g. cybernetic and administrative) to be worthwhile. “That’s why [the targets must] increase or […] become a part of their day where, [for] that Indigenous business they use, they go ‘Wow, they’re a good business. Let’s just put them on our preferred [contractor] list for the next job’. That never happens if you’re an Indigenous business” [Wula_5].

Without denigrating IOs receiving lower-valued contracts from the NICO, the manager suggested that such initiatives did little to improve long-term Indigenous procurement and employment opportunities. He challenged the support non-Indigenous businesses like the NICO provide: “They say, ‘We order our stationery or catering from an Indigenous business.’ That’s great for that business, but mate, that’s a minute [cost] for these billion-dollar businesses. Make a difference! Give us work where we can feed it down into other Indigenous businesses and help them grow” [Wula_5].

This study provides detailed insight into emancipatory progress that emerged through MC combinations and their translation per the implementation contexts of an IO and non-IO. The accounting elements that MCs were endowed with, which shaped their emancipatory potential, reflected contextual dimensions (e.g. economic and ethnic preferences). As each organisation’s appreciation of a RAP, implementation context (including ethnic disparities), and MCs varied significantly. Next, we outline the study’s contributions to the literature before concluding with practical implications for present and future research.

An important finding of Fukofuka and Jacobs (2018) was the central role of social actors in gluing business and cultural objectives together. In their study, social actors’ education, cultural capital, and cultural identity provided legitimacy to use accounting to reorganise power and framing. Our findings support this argument but go further to illustrate that actor networks shape interactions between these contextual dimensions and accounting.

Initially, Reconciliation Australia’s standardised implementation tools were used by Wula and the NICO to translate Indigenous peoples concerns into a series of actions, deliverables, and timeframes. The introduction of a RAP within Wula triggered a small chain of translations primarily about combining MCs to strengthen pre-existing reconciliation initiatives. Wula’s problematisation of RAP started with the need to maintain legitimacy and showcase the cultural expertise and business success of IOs. Whether a RAP could deliver any additional strategic value to Wula was a key concern. During interessement, the introduction of a RAP was deemed to provide a structure to underpin Wula’s strategy. MCs such as performance targets (e.g. cybernetic controls) provided a means to celebrate the company’s achievements rather than regulating action or behaviour.

A long chain of translations conspired to slowly shift the NICO towards combinations of MC and use that make culturally informed construction practices somewhat valuable to pursue. The problematisation of the NICO’s RAP implementation highlighted the need to bring “culture, languages and placemaking thinking back” into construction projects and then to “change the way the industry thinks”. This framing triggered greater participation in MC (Bryer, 2014) through a commitment from key NICO stakeholders to instil Indigenous thinking and self-determination principles in construction projects. Interessement involved ongoing negotiations with several actors (including the global leadership team, senior leaders, UNSDGs, Reconciliation Australia, investors, contractors, and employees, etc.) drawn together primarily to convince decision makers within the NICO about the business case for reconciliation.

A big part of the emancipatory progress came from getting social agents within the NICO to coerce and seduce other (human and non-human) actors. The NICO’s executive lead for RAPs was a highly educated, long-standing employee who had the “trust” of senior management. She enlisted the support of non-Indigenous colleagues who were “relationship-minded” with strong business acumen. The slowly formed actor network at the NICO allowed proponents to “plug the RAP into all sorts of [MCs]” in bringing about emancipation. Counter narratives were also used to share stories about injustices towards Indigenous Australians, creating a “groundswell of support”. The subsequent combination of MCs such as a strategic plan and performance reporting marked a turning point: relationships with Indigenous people and places were drivers of success for the NICO’s construction projects.

Each organisation committed to translate RAP objectives into construction projects, somewhat operationalising reconciliation initiatives. Instead of being contained by each organisation’s RAP proponents, these project-level translations spanned organisations and groups of people with multiple and often conflicting agendas. The new actors (e.g. contractors and contract managers) participated in lengthy and complex negotiations during which different interests in terms of project delivery and deliverables were negotiated. Very different combinations of MC and wider associative actions were used by each organisation to progress emancipation.

Skilful social actors at Wula played a crucial role (Fukofuka and Jacobs, 2018). The managing director, contract managers, and operational employees all participated in the selection and combination of MCs to translate RAP objectives from the organisational level into reconciliation initiatives for projects. The actors combined various new and existing MCs such as socialisation practices, sub-contractor lists, and strategic and financial objectives. The social actors transformed the content, form, and usage of accounting (Gallhofer and Haslam, 2019) to help progress emancipation using MCs (e.g. to support activism and market IOs).

A combination of cybernetic and administrative controls was emphasised by Wula’s managing director to progress Government-mandated spending targets into meaningful, ongoing work for IOs. The director appealed to non-IOs to set aspirational targets that could be achieved by adding IOs to their “preferred [contractor] list for the next job”. Another form of accounting classified cultural spend as a core business activity rather than a project deliverable. The participatory budget approach deliberately treated cultural spending as an overhead so that contract managers were entrusted to mobilise suitable exchange dynamics as per project and community requirements (e.g. showing concern for transactions, reciprocity, and trust). This seemingly minor distinction between operating and direct costs created movement towards emancipation in the context of Wula’s broader MC system (e.g. necessity of ethnic cultural values to the overall business operation).

Wula valued situations of success when IOs’ systemic challenges were met with reciprocity, and short-term financial performance was sacrificed for future opportunities. The managing director admitted to performing tasks where Wula “don’t get paid, but other businesses expect to be paid”. For example, investments were made to assist IOs to become “great businesses that are fully self-sufficient and can do everything”. Again, this ambition prompted changes to accounting’s content and form. In mainstream businesses, cultural controls socialise the behaviour of others to achieve organisational goals (Malmi and Brown, 2008) such as Wula’s cultural events, awareness training, and induction and engaging with local Indigenous elders. However, this theorisation did not completely capture Wula’s participatory MC practices and aspirations. Specifically, Wula socialised the organisation’s behaviour to help others reach their own goals. This concept (akin to enabling control) is an emancipatory approach for jointly combining MCs per ethnic cultural values (Fukofuka et al., 2022) which was made possible by Wula’s strong ties to the Indigenous community (Bryer, 2014).

Wula’s social agents skilfully transformed conventional accounting to foster a democratic approach (Gallhofer et al., 2015). The online safety portal was changed so that ethnic cultural perspectives were formalised alongside existing health and safety systems and processes (e.g. through administrative controls such as policy, procedures, risk registers, etc.). The combination of MCs generated emancipatory progress by making Wula establish mechanisms such as onboarding training and supplier screening criteria to eliminate or minimise cultural risks (alongside financial and safety risks, etc.). This finding addresses a question posed by (Brown and Dillard, 2015b, p. 962) by revealing how accounting makes ethnic cultural perspectives a relevant and necessary criterion to participate effectively in organisational governance. The finding also extends the framework by Bryer (2014), showing how relations between other controls and technologies progress emancipation. Materialising the safety portal’s translation in the RAP implementation network involved negotiations between consultants, employees, software, the RAP, and external organisations which were progressive and not settled.

RAP proponents at the NICO formed an actor network built on confidence in a cultural system of trust, cooperation, and storytelling. The proponents engaged in a wide range of associative actions to interest actors, including the strategic plan, in the RAP and settle on “what makes this stuff good business” (e.g. Brown and Dillard, 2015b, p. 967 refer to dominant business case framings). The NICO attempted to represent ethnic cultural values within construction projects through accounting problematised at the apex of the organisation. A combination of MCs was used conventionally with limited changes to their content and form (Gallhofer and Haslam, 2019). The executive leader established a “RAP dashboard” based around policies and performance measures to “track the procurements and track employment”. The importance of reconciliation as a project deliverable was emphasised (e.g. an operational expense necessary to win contracts with government departments).

This democratic approach offered accounts to ethnic groups (e.g. employment opportunities) which were obscure to project-level actors. The complexity and ambiguity of accounting for reconciliation initiatives in delivering construction projects was inadequately problematised. Subsequently, MC combinations such as administrative and cybernetic controls suppressed emancipation at the project level, tacitly coordinating the actions of social agents. NICO’s contract manager was concerned about the project: “I can’t let the project fail”. The contract manager at the NICO reinforced the challenge of balancing financial goals with Indigenous community initiatives. The manager was accountable for project deliverables like Indigenous engagement and spending outcomes, which had implications for the NICO’s legitimacy as a cultural leader but not for the project’s viability.

Ironically, reconciliation became a project deliverable enforced by the NICO, resulting in MCs (e.g. policies and targets) to interest key stakeholders (e.g. contractors) in achieving the targets outlined in the RAP. Targets had to be “passed on”, “filtered through, say, business unit goals” to “push those requirements down onto the projects”, instead of combining planning (preferred sub-contractor lists) or cultural (stakeholder socialisation) controls.

The findings in this study offer an important reminder about the progressive and contextually situated nature of emancipation (Gallhofer and Haslam, 2003, 2019). Organisations like Wula possess strong ethnic ties and convictions which prompt them to progress emancipation from within. Indeed, Wula was already performing initiatives to improve the affluence of Indigenous communities and people. Wula employees queried whether a RAP was needed. From their perspective, RAPs are a tool to encourage “white businesses” to support IOs. Subsequently, Wula undertook a “RAP in reverse”. This replication strategy was safe. Wula organised their reconciliation process by adding new MCs or adjusting existing ones. The strategic ambition to advance reconciliation, coupled with Wula’s formidable understanding of corporate business practices, positioned Wula to help IOs, communities, and employees to improve their socio-economic outcomes. Thus, strong linkages between accounting and emancipation were observed.

The combination of MCs at Wula owed more to management’s ethnic identity than to their business preferences (Efferin and Hopper, 2007). Even so, the findings partially support assertions by Lombardi (2016) that IOs are often forced to comply with dominant corporate business practices with limited opportunities to participate in accounting systems. In situations of ethnic pluralism (de Lautour et al., 2021), Wula struggled to incorporate their reconciliation preferences into project deliverables. More broadly, struggles were experienced by both the IO and non-IO in progressing emancipation. Hence, the conclusion to facilitate a translation approach that increases engagement in accounting and network relations at the project level of both organisations (Bryer, 2014).

Unlike Wula, the concept of advancing reconciliation was abstract for the NICO. The terms of Government contracts (as mandated by Indigenous procurement policies) incentivise non-IOs to implement RAPs. Thus, the rationale for reconciliation was not inherent in the NICO’s culture, structures, and systems. The executive leader for RAPs described solving “enormous structural and policy types of issues” and “called upon lots of people” to embed a RAP within the organisation. This broader interaction across intra- and inter- organisational boundaries created space for emancipation. Yet, the NICO’s progressive conventional accounting changes such as revising their performance targets (e.g. Ferry et al., 2021; Gallhofer, 2018) were isolated to a micro-actor network.

This observation links the findings with those of Cooper et al. (2005) on using social alliances to challenge capitalism and Bryer (2014) on using alliances to build agency. The NICO leveraged numerous social alliances to progress emancipation, but these were framed based on business logic and on accountings perceived aura as an economic and technical tool. Thus, project level participants at the NICO did not build agency either through accounting or broader alliances. As per Jollands et al. (2018), the NICO’s reconciliation positioning meant that economically orientated and technical controls monopolised the project, bringing reconciliation initiatives into their own translation. This monopolisation had implications for emancipation at the NICO internally and in partnership, where the NICO’s (economic) project agenda dominated negotiations.

The NICO’s contract manager recognised the importance of greater levels of networked agency. In his opinion, IOs must improve their ability to win contestable contracts. However, tensions between business and ethnicity affected the way MCs were interpreted and mobilised by the contract manager (Efferin and Hopper, 2007). It was a “a step too far” for IOs to engage with the NICO. Rather, the IOs needed to partner with a non-IO and “use those systems and structures” as opposed to working directly with the NICO. Despite this naïve perspective, the contract manager at least acknowledged that MCs at the project level were negotiated without a proper attention to the Indigenous perspective of reconciliation. To solve this problem, he suggested having unique RAPs for each project to improve reconciliation outcomes. The manager acknowledged that “you’ll get more engagement”, “can come up with your own RAP”, and link it with other movements such as the NICO’s “social legacy plan”. Reasserting Bryer (2014), greater engagement in wider associative actions at the project level is likely to agitate agency in and through accounting by stimulating action across social and institutional boundaries (Bryer, 2014).

From an economic and technical angle, the joint venture partnership accomplished project objectives. The construction project was successfully delivered with MC support. Indigenous employment and spend targets exceeded expectations: Innovative initiatives were established to engage Indigenous communities and organisations. While the joint venture partnership exceeded targets for Indigenous spending and employment, different ideas about project success in the context of reconciliation emerged (e.g. between Wula and the NICO), —rendering translation (un)successful depending on how ethnic disparities were accounted for.

Both Wula and the NICO had different views on engaging with IOs but each agreed on the importance of trust and transparency in seeking progress. As the NICO’s contract manager stated, “trust can be eroded very quickly if the process can’t be followed through for whatever reason”. He suggested that an important benefit of working with Wula was that it improved communication with IOs contracted to the project: “the feedback does come to the joint venture”. This observation foregrounds the social dimension of accounting and emancipatory projects. Specifically, the study has identified that IOs scarcely implement a RAP. The attention of RAP is on understanding how non-IOs interact with IOs and help the latter grow. Thus, IOs lack specific insight about various goals, abilities, and perspectives that progress culturally informed practices within a non-IO. Hence, we conclude that more work must be done to better prepare emancipatory projects for translation by different ethnic groups. Deliberate translation of the RAP at various levels is needed to enable culturally informed MC practices to spread outwards from both IOs and non-IOs. 

Despite the study implications, this study has limitations. The study involved a single IO and non-Indigenous partner. However, Indigenous Australians have diverse languages, traditions, and knowledge systems (e.g. moiety, totems and skin names). These cultural systems influence each group’s relationship with the land and others, necessitating further research to engage with a plurality of accountings. Longitudinal studies using mixed methods could also provide insight that advances governance by Indigenous people. Engaging with Indigenous methodologies can also furnish greater insight. Key tenets of ANT are inherently Indigenous (Todd, 2016) but the concept of agency is somewhat restrictive (Watts, 2013). Spirit is a form of exchange and, thus, has agency regarding the combination of MCs.

Furthermore, a future research agenda that is committed to understanding empowering and enabling accounting concepts in situations of ethnic pluralism. This work could explore how IOs like Wula maintain platforms to expand their business and validate their unique business model. A vital objective is to provide space for Indigenous cultural values and systems (e.g. reciprocation) to be progressed alongside corporate business practices. IOs will benefit by gaining access to appropriate agency to organically grow and expand their pipeline of work on their terms. Non-IOs will benefit from having a more diverse workforce and sub-contractor base while alleviating social injustices for the benefit of all people.

The RAP framework is future-oriented, with no monitoring of the activities promised to Indigenous people or their desirability. Future studies could evaluate the magnitude and impact of reconciliation activities on Indigenous Australians and provide them with platforms to hold organisations responsible. In identifying differences in the managerial and operational contexts of these organisations, different roles and duties for reconciliation must be specified. The objective for non-IOs should be to increase factors—the number, agency, and size of IOs—such that policies become redundant over time. Beyond procurement targets, business practices like those implemented by Wula are needed. These practices are likely to produce similar long-term economic outcomes while reducing broader costs attributable to the social injustices experienced by IOs and native communities.

The authors would like to acknowledge CPA Australia for supporting this research with funding from the Global Research Perspectives Program (No: 006/202). The two anonymous reviews also offered invaluable suggestions to improve the paper.