In everyday parlance, "bureaucracy" is not a pretty word. To most people, bureaucratic means the opposite of efficient, and a bureaucrat is someone who gums up the works.

We easily forget that the scholar best known for systematic analysis of bureaucracy, German sociologist Max Weber (1864-1920), emphasized the progressive nature of the phenomenon.

In Weber's view, a bureaucratic organization is characterized by "rational" and impersonal conduct of work, and thus represents an advance over traditional feudal or patrimonial forms of administration that depend on personal ties and loyalties.

The change, at least in principle, creates a kind of meritocracy. Bureaucrats are to be recruited not through informal connections but on the basis of formal qualifications for particular roles. And promotion should be based not on pedigree or currying favor but on seniority and achievement. The division of labor and specialization of tasks underlying bureaucracy is supposed to attain results smoothly and sensibly.

In short, bureaucracy in theory should organize work and serve its goals. But in the modern era, the system can become a sinkhole where work gets bogged down and goals lose their force.

Sometimes history is blamed. Chinese scholar-officials were recruited by imperial examination for some 1,300 years, from the Sui through the late Qing dynasties, and the country is said to suffer from too much expertise in bureaucracy.

India offers its own brand of bureaucratic inertia, in a civil service shaped by British colonial administration. Other national tendencies, such as Swiss affection for precision or German fondness for discipline, are thought to produce bureaucracies closer to the Weberian ideal but stifling to creativity.

I teach in a US university, where bureaucracy takes its own peculiar forms too many committees, too many meetings, silly disputes that, as the saying goes, "get so vicious, because so little is at stake". Any complex organization will yield its own variations.

We might rant and rave about the need to abolish bureaucracy, but that's unrealistic. What about seeking improvement instead? Can bureaucracies become more responsive and responsible? Or is it their nature to resist reform?

Awhile back, I felt pretty sure that bureaucracies cannot be budged. Now, I'm cautiously optimistic on the question. This tale explains why:

About a year ago, I jokingly told a friend who works for the organizing committee for the Beijing Olympics, in the department responsible for hosting the international media during the 2008 Games, that I'd volunteer as his assistant.

Quite seriously, he responded: "Could you bring me 60 to 100 student volunteers?" He explained that, although the program was not yet set up, the Olympic News Service would need the services of a couple of hundred volunteers who were native speakers and writers of English.

I told my friend that a hundred was a bit much, but perhaps I could help train 25 or so. Going on faith that my friend's projection would prove correct, I started recruiting college freshmen and sophomores as soon as I got back to my university, and over subsequent months developed requirements for their coursework and self-study in three areas: familiarity with Chinese culture and at least basic-level Mandarin, competency in sports reporting and writing, and knowledge of Olympic sports and history.

By late last year, Beijing's official plans for media volunteers were taking shape. I was told that, in order to contribute, my university needed an appropriate host university in Beijing. Within days, a Chinese colleague and I had arranged the connection. And within a couple of weeks, the presidents of both our universities had signed a memorandum of understanding.

Which brings us to the current chapter. Arriving in Beijing this spring for a stay of two months, I immediately visited the Beijing Olympics Tower seeking updated instructions. At last, the media people had specific information about what my students are expected to know, when they need to be here, how they will be accommodated and so forth.

Most exciting, I left with a draft of an agreement constituting a formal basis for cooperation among the organizing committee, the host university and our university.

In addition to practical details, the document contained a bunch of legalese, so lawyers for the three parties spent two weeks finalizing the wording via round-robin e-mails. All this transpired in an efficient, collaborative manner. I was especially impressed with the professionalism of Beijing Olympics staffers at lower and middle levels who sped the work along.

Once the wording was settled, all that remained was some "paperwork" within the organization. We waited for its completion.

And waited. And waited. For four more weeks.

I'd hoped to hand-carry the required number of copies of the document back to my university for signature. My departure date was approaching. My Chinese colleagues and I had lost confidence that our agreement could be concluded in a timely manner. We would have to rely on express mail packets going back and forth several times over the Pacific, making the process drag on far longer than necessary.

I decided to try one more thing: I wrote a letter to a top leader of the organizing committee for the Beijing Games, explaining the situation. I praised his grass-roots staff for their energy and dedication, and wondered why the process seemed to stall at higher levels.

My letter travelled by overnight mail from one side of Beijing to the other. Then I forgot about it, certain nothing would result. To my astonishment, a staff member called two days later to inform me that the recipient had read the letter and instructed subordinates to "take care of this quickly".

By mere chance, the very next day I met this high official in an elevator. When I mentioned that he'd just dealt with my letter and expressed my gratitude, he looked puzzled. Then it dawned on me that this man must be juggling a zillion things at once, most of them far more important than my query.

Come to think of it, I'm dumbfounded that someone at the top would take time to deal with an inquiry from the bottom about a matter stuck somewhere in the mid-to-upper reaches. And it's outlandish that he would have to.

But the experience speaks volumes about the dangers of excessively elaborate hierarchies. Multiple layers are excellent in puff pastries. Too many layers make for unwieldy workplaces.

The morning of my departure, I had a stack of documents to take with me on the plane. Bureaucracies can get things done after all. And maybe future agreements will sail right out the door.

"One world, one dream" is the Beijing Olympic slogan. One can always dream.

The author is a professor of journalism at The University of Iowa

(China Daily 05/11/2007 page11)