British Telecom’s 1984 partial privatization set in motion the privatization and deregulation of many international state-owned telecommunications carriers. Most previous research on the privatization and deregulation of state-owned telecommunications carriers has focused on the economic outcomes. However, this was also a time of changes in managerial practice and thinking influenced by organizational theory. This article presents an analysis of the use of the prescriptions of Rosabeth Kanter in the attempted reform of the organizational culture of Australia’s largest business in the 1980s: the government-owned telecommunications monopoly Telecom Australia (now Telstra). It details the attempt to transform Telecom under the incipient threat of the introduction of competition to the telecommunications market and demonstrates how the country’s largest change management program, Vision 2000, represented an alternative approach to telecommunications reform.
{"title":"The Charismatic Organization: Vision 2000 and Corporate Change in a State-Owned Organization","authors":"R. Barton, B. Mees","doi":"10.1017/eso.2021.43","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1017/eso.2021.43","url":null,"abstract":"British Telecom’s 1984 partial privatization set in motion the privatization and deregulation of many international state-owned telecommunications carriers. Most previous research on the privatization and deregulation of state-owned telecommunications carriers has focused on the economic outcomes. However, this was also a time of changes in managerial practice and thinking influenced by organizational theory. This article presents an analysis of the use of the prescriptions of Rosabeth Kanter in the attempted reform of the organizational culture of Australia’s largest business in the 1980s: the government-owned telecommunications monopoly Telecom Australia (now Telstra). It details the attempt to transform Telecom under the incipient threat of the introduction of competition to the telecommunications market and demonstrates how the country’s largest change management program, Vision 2000, represented an alternative approach to telecommunications reform.","PeriodicalId":45977,"journal":{"name":"Enterprise & Society","volume":"24 1","pages":"500 - 521"},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2021-12-10","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"49593473","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":2,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
This paper discusses how a Norwegian entrepreneurial state has performed over more than seventy years, based on an analysis of state involvement in Kongsberg Våpenfabrikk/the Kongsberg Group from 1945 and to 2015. Mariana Mazzucato has argued that bold technological investments by the state has long-term beneficial effects. The development of the Kongsberg companies adds nuance to this picture. On the one hand, the defense company Kongsberg Våpenfabrikk failed as a company in 1987 and was unbundled into a number of new companies independent of one another. On the other hand, some of the successor companies have been very successful, both in the oil and gas sector and within defense. Taking the defense and oil and gas company the Kongsberg Group as a case, this paper argues that a new style of entrepreneurial state developed in the 1990s and that it proved very successful. The old entrepreneurial state was heavy-handed, bold, and very long-term in its aims; the new entrepreneurial state was cautious, many-headed, and worked through the management of the company. The new entrepreneurial state combined state ownership, stock listing, and procurement considerations and was supported by both the Ministry of Industry and the Ministry of Defense. This new governance structure facilitated a stable corporation that over time integrated other Norwegian maritime electronics companies, which themselves had a checkered history under the old entrepreneurial state. A new corporate governance regime emerged and managed both to protect old and established product lines and to facilitate innovation both in defense and maritime electronics.
{"title":"Creating and Protecting Paths: Learning in an Entrepreneurial State","authors":"K. Sogner","doi":"10.1017/eso.2021.54","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1017/eso.2021.54","url":null,"abstract":"This paper discusses how a Norwegian entrepreneurial state has performed over more than seventy years, based on an analysis of state involvement in Kongsberg Våpenfabrikk/the Kongsberg Group from 1945 and to 2015. Mariana Mazzucato has argued that bold technological investments by the state has long-term beneficial effects. The development of the Kongsberg companies adds nuance to this picture. On the one hand, the defense company Kongsberg Våpenfabrikk failed as a company in 1987 and was unbundled into a number of new companies independent of one another. On the other hand, some of the successor companies have been very successful, both in the oil and gas sector and within defense. Taking the defense and oil and gas company the Kongsberg Group as a case, this paper argues that a new style of entrepreneurial state developed in the 1990s and that it proved very successful. The old entrepreneurial state was heavy-handed, bold, and very long-term in its aims; the new entrepreneurial state was cautious, many-headed, and worked through the management of the company. The new entrepreneurial state combined state ownership, stock listing, and procurement considerations and was supported by both the Ministry of Industry and the Ministry of Defense. This new governance structure facilitated a stable corporation that over time integrated other Norwegian maritime electronics companies, which themselves had a checkered history under the old entrepreneurial state. A new corporate governance regime emerged and managed both to protect old and established product lines and to facilitate innovation both in defense and maritime electronics.","PeriodicalId":45977,"journal":{"name":"Enterprise & Society","volume":"24 1","pages":"480 - 499"},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2021-12-06","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"49334938","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":2,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
This article investigates the change in relations between Parisian haute couture and the French textile industry in the 1950s and 1960s. This study is grounded in the multiple changes that occurred between the two decades with the end of a state-sponsored and textile-backed aid to couture plan in 1960, the dematerialization of fashion in the 1960s and the advent of brands and licenses, and the waning of couture’s influence throughout the period. It cross-references archives from multi-stakeholder meetings between the state, couture, and textile representatives with the couturiers’ trade association archives and diplomatic archives to show how the changing fashion landscape impacted their interactions. This study shows that while the couture and textile industries drifted apart, the government’s interest in couture grew. This reframes the narrative on couture’s alleged influence as the spearhead of the textile industry while illustrating its wider prestige influence and its relevance to the state.
{"title":"Fashion, Industry and Diplomacy: Reframing Couture–Textile Relations in France, 1950s–1960s","authors":"Vincent Dubé-Senécal","doi":"10.1017/eso.2021.46","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1017/eso.2021.46","url":null,"abstract":"This article investigates the change in relations between Parisian haute couture and the French textile industry in the 1950s and 1960s. This study is grounded in the multiple changes that occurred between the two decades with the end of a state-sponsored and textile-backed aid to couture plan in 1960, the dematerialization of fashion in the 1960s and the advent of brands and licenses, and the waning of couture’s influence throughout the period. It cross-references archives from multi-stakeholder meetings between the state, couture, and textile representatives with the couturiers’ trade association archives and diplomatic archives to show how the changing fashion landscape impacted their interactions. This study shows that while the couture and textile industries drifted apart, the government’s interest in couture grew. This reframes the narrative on couture’s alleged influence as the spearhead of the textile industry while illustrating its wider prestige influence and its relevance to the state.","PeriodicalId":45977,"journal":{"name":"Enterprise & Society","volume":"24 1","pages":"455 - 479"},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2021-12-03","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"48824674","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":2,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
In the early 1980s, the yuppie stereotype emerged as an object of media and popular fascination. In 1984,Newsweekmagazinedeclared it the “Year of theYuppie,” thewords emblazoned above a Gary Trudeau caricature of two urbane white people in New York’s Central Park. Inside, an article profiled the members of this newly discovered class: professionals who earned high salaries, coveted loft apartments, trained for marathons, owned Cuisinarts, and supped on sushi and chardonnay. Elsewhere, commentators trotted out the image of the yuppie to make sense of a host of related issues: from new modes of masculinity, to unease about consumerism, to the entrance of women into the professions. Yuppies, ultimately, were anxieties about affluence made flesh.1 When I began my dissertation research, I wondered: What would happen if we took “yuppies” seriously—not as a stereotype or as an object of satire, but as a real demographic wave that washed over America’s cities beginning in the late 1970s?What would I discover if I looked critically at the highly educated professionals who came to New York to work onWall Street and in law firms? Would it help me tell a new story about the 1980s—one that did not foreground Ronald Reagan, Sunbelt suburbanites, corporate revanchists, or conservative economists, as other historians have?2 What I discovered was that yuppies themselves—real, living young urban professionals— are essential to understanding how the booming financial and professional sectors remade America in the closing decades of the twentieth century. They were at the forefront of the concentration of capital and brainpower in ahandful of cities. They embodied the split ofwhat was once a broad middle class in two: an upwardly mobile, college-educated metropolitan class, on the one hand, and a downwardly mobile class of workers on the other. They transformed American politics, as the Democratic Party became more beholden to educated professionals than to blue-collar workers, more indebted to Wall Street than to urban political machines, more in thrall to highly paid young people than to older or poorer voters. Ultimately, yuppies, while never numerous enough to swing national elections by themselves, were able to reshape American politics—and with it, American economic and social life.
{"title":"Yuppies: Young Urban Professionals and the Making of Postindustrial New York","authors":"D. Gottlieb","doi":"10.1017/eso.2021.48","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1017/eso.2021.48","url":null,"abstract":"In the early 1980s, the yuppie stereotype emerged as an object of media and popular fascination. In 1984,Newsweekmagazinedeclared it the “Year of theYuppie,” thewords emblazoned above a Gary Trudeau caricature of two urbane white people in New York’s Central Park. Inside, an article profiled the members of this newly discovered class: professionals who earned high salaries, coveted loft apartments, trained for marathons, owned Cuisinarts, and supped on sushi and chardonnay. Elsewhere, commentators trotted out the image of the yuppie to make sense of a host of related issues: from new modes of masculinity, to unease about consumerism, to the entrance of women into the professions. Yuppies, ultimately, were anxieties about affluence made flesh.1 When I began my dissertation research, I wondered: What would happen if we took “yuppies” seriously—not as a stereotype or as an object of satire, but as a real demographic wave that washed over America’s cities beginning in the late 1970s?What would I discover if I looked critically at the highly educated professionals who came to New York to work onWall Street and in law firms? Would it help me tell a new story about the 1980s—one that did not foreground Ronald Reagan, Sunbelt suburbanites, corporate revanchists, or conservative economists, as other historians have?2 What I discovered was that yuppies themselves—real, living young urban professionals— are essential to understanding how the booming financial and professional sectors remade America in the closing decades of the twentieth century. They were at the forefront of the concentration of capital and brainpower in ahandful of cities. They embodied the split ofwhat was once a broad middle class in two: an upwardly mobile, college-educated metropolitan class, on the one hand, and a downwardly mobile class of workers on the other. They transformed American politics, as the Democratic Party became more beholden to educated professionals than to blue-collar workers, more indebted to Wall Street than to urban political machines, more in thrall to highly paid young people than to older or poorer voters. Ultimately, yuppies, while never numerous enough to swing national elections by themselves, were able to reshape American politics—and with it, American economic and social life.","PeriodicalId":45977,"journal":{"name":"Enterprise & Society","volume":"22 1","pages":"962 - 969"},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2021-12-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"49312936","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":2,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
In 2016, PayPal, amultinational financial services company canceled an expansion intoNorth Carolina worth millions of dollars and with hundreds of jobs. The cancellation was in response to the state legislature’s passage of a transphobic law. The Public and Facilities Privacy and Security Act restricted transgender and nonbinary individuals from using public restrooms consistent with their gender identity. The act also overturned broader local nondiscrimination ordinances.1 PayPal’s corporate activism in support of the rights of sexual minorities and gender nonconformists reflected a half-century of activism by lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) activists who demanded workplace rights and benefits through their employer when cities and states refused to provide nondiscrimination protections. The majority of LGBT people had no federal protection against discrimination in employment until the U.S. Supreme Court ruled sexual orientation and gender identity are protected characteristics under Title VII of the Civil RightsAct (1964) in June 2020.2 Even after the achievement of same-sex marriage in 2015, few southern states provided workplace protections for sexual minorities. Workers across the South and Southwest could therefore be married to someone of the same sex but be fired by their homophobic boss for being gay.3 “Work and Sexuality in the Sunbelt” examines how sexual minorities reshaped the corporate workplace to provide protections in areas where federal, state, and local governments fell short. Pressure in this arena was successful to the extent that most major companies now prohibit discrimination and openly campaign for equality. Several case studies of homophobic discrimination are examined. Chapters on individual companies includingApple, Cracker Barrel, Duke University, and ExxonMobil shed light on mainstream LGBT strategies for equality within corporations as well as the extent to which victories at these companies
{"title":"Work and Sexuality in the Sunbelt: Homophobic Workplace Discrimination in the U.S. South and Southwest, 1970 to the Present","authors":"Joshua Hollands","doi":"10.1017/eso.2021.50","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1017/eso.2021.50","url":null,"abstract":"In 2016, PayPal, amultinational financial services company canceled an expansion intoNorth Carolina worth millions of dollars and with hundreds of jobs. The cancellation was in response to the state legislature’s passage of a transphobic law. The Public and Facilities Privacy and Security Act restricted transgender and nonbinary individuals from using public restrooms consistent with their gender identity. The act also overturned broader local nondiscrimination ordinances.1 PayPal’s corporate activism in support of the rights of sexual minorities and gender nonconformists reflected a half-century of activism by lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) activists who demanded workplace rights and benefits through their employer when cities and states refused to provide nondiscrimination protections. The majority of LGBT people had no federal protection against discrimination in employment until the U.S. Supreme Court ruled sexual orientation and gender identity are protected characteristics under Title VII of the Civil RightsAct (1964) in June 2020.2 Even after the achievement of same-sex marriage in 2015, few southern states provided workplace protections for sexual minorities. Workers across the South and Southwest could therefore be married to someone of the same sex but be fired by their homophobic boss for being gay.3 “Work and Sexuality in the Sunbelt” examines how sexual minorities reshaped the corporate workplace to provide protections in areas where federal, state, and local governments fell short. Pressure in this arena was successful to the extent that most major companies now prohibit discrimination and openly campaign for equality. Several case studies of homophobic discrimination are examined. Chapters on individual companies includingApple, Cracker Barrel, Duke University, and ExxonMobil shed light on mainstream LGBT strategies for equality within corporations as well as the extent to which victories at these companies","PeriodicalId":45977,"journal":{"name":"Enterprise & Society","volume":"22 1","pages":"939 - 949"},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2021-12-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"46644923","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":2,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Jack Warner loved shutting down films. It was tradition on the Warner Bros. lot, one he continued long after his three brothers departed the studio. As director Arthur Penn described it, “Warner would give a time frame and then come down to the set, no matter how far along they were, and say ‘Your picture wraps tonight.’”2 It was a display of power, a way to demonstrate who ran the studio.When it came to Bonnie and Clyde—a filmWarner hatedwith every bone in his body—he was overjoyed to finally force the hand of Penn and his coproducer/star Warren Beatty. Even though they were right on schedule, “The Colonel,” as many referred to Warner, barged his way into their wrap party and forced the crew to shoot the still photos that would be featured in the opening credits. Everyone was taken aback by Warner’s actions but felt forced to oblige. Penn caught the eye of Walter MacEwan, Warner’s right-hand man, who “stood behind Jack with a chagrined expression, as if to say, ‘What can I do?’”3 But Bonnie and Clyde was not Warner’s project to control. Before production began, the executives at Warner Bros. had negotiated a deal with Penn and Beatty. Their memo featured several brief but thoughtful stipulations that seemed agreeable to both sides.Most notably, the location of where to edit the picture would be arranged later by mutual agreement among the parties.4 Warner soon realized Penn and Beatty were shipping dailies to New York instead of the studio’s own editing bays and planning to edit the film without the possibility that the executive might barge through the doors. He fired off a memo, declaring, “I would not have gone throughwith this contract if I had known these uncalled gimmickswere in it.”5 But none of the studio’s executives could do anything to reverse it and please the Colonel. They had
{"title":"When A Handshake Meant Something: Lawyers, Deal Making, and the Emergence of New Hollywood","authors":"Peter S. Labuza","doi":"10.1017/eso.2021.49","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1017/eso.2021.49","url":null,"abstract":"Jack Warner loved shutting down films. It was tradition on the Warner Bros. lot, one he continued long after his three brothers departed the studio. As director Arthur Penn described it, “Warner would give a time frame and then come down to the set, no matter how far along they were, and say ‘Your picture wraps tonight.’”2 It was a display of power, a way to demonstrate who ran the studio.When it came to Bonnie and Clyde—a filmWarner hatedwith every bone in his body—he was overjoyed to finally force the hand of Penn and his coproducer/star Warren Beatty. Even though they were right on schedule, “The Colonel,” as many referred to Warner, barged his way into their wrap party and forced the crew to shoot the still photos that would be featured in the opening credits. Everyone was taken aback by Warner’s actions but felt forced to oblige. Penn caught the eye of Walter MacEwan, Warner’s right-hand man, who “stood behind Jack with a chagrined expression, as if to say, ‘What can I do?’”3 But Bonnie and Clyde was not Warner’s project to control. Before production began, the executives at Warner Bros. had negotiated a deal with Penn and Beatty. Their memo featured several brief but thoughtful stipulations that seemed agreeable to both sides.Most notably, the location of where to edit the picture would be arranged later by mutual agreement among the parties.4 Warner soon realized Penn and Beatty were shipping dailies to New York instead of the studio’s own editing bays and planning to edit the film without the possibility that the executive might barge through the doors. He fired off a memo, declaring, “I would not have gone throughwith this contract if I had known these uncalled gimmickswere in it.”5 But none of the studio’s executives could do anything to reverse it and please the Colonel. They had","PeriodicalId":45977,"journal":{"name":"Enterprise & Society","volume":"22 1","pages":"950 - 961"},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2021-12-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"45455620","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":2,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Daniel DeMenocal arrived in Hong Kong in the early 1900s as the first US staffer of one of the earliest US bank branches in Asia. Of all the things that might have impressed him—China’s treaty ports, financing opium trade, the language barrier—one that stuck out was the handwriting: “These young Britishers all had extremely good hand-writing,” he later recalled.1 DeMenocal learned the consequences of sloppywriting, after several colleagues from the International Banking Corporation were demoted over their poor handwriting. The bank sent young US staffers like De Menocal to London to learn proper British banking methods. At the time, the idea of a US “international banker” hardly existed. Training in Londonwas a way to counter the deficit in domestic know-how. But when De Menocal’s colleagues failed to master penmanship, they had to prolong their stay. “[T]heir handwriting was so bad,” recalled De Menocal, “that the London office could make no use of their service and they were all sent to an English school to be taught how to write before they were permitted to touch pen to paper.”2 As De Menocal learned, legible and accurate records were essential to the success of financial institutions, and those institutions were themselves vital linkages connecting imperial metropoles and their colonies, territories, andmarkets around the world. Clean handwriting and rigorous bookkeeping constituted the prosaic foundations onwhich financial empires were built.3 My dissertation, “Branching Out: Banking, Credit, and the Globalizing US Economy, 1900s–1930s,” investigates these foundations. It untangles the interrelations of expanding US global power in the early twentieth century and the protocols and paperwork of US foreign banking that undergirded it. Doing so reveals that US empire-building was not a coherent,monolithic project devised inWashington, DC, boardrooms but insteadwas amessy coproduction of often divergent publicand private-sector agendas. Despite their tensions, these agendas nevertheless had the effect of expanding US influence around the world.
Daniel DeMenocal于20世纪初抵达香港，成为美国在亚洲最早的银行分行之一的第一位美国员工。在所有可能给他留下深刻印象的事情中——中国的条约港口、资助鸦片贸易、语言障碍——最突出的是笔迹：“这些年轻的英国人都写得非常好，”他后来回忆道，国际银行公司的几位同事因字迹不好而被降职。该银行派遣了像De Menocal这样的年轻美国员工前往伦敦学习正确的英国银行业务方法。当时，美国“国际银行家”的概念几乎不存在。在伦敦进行培训是弥补国内专业知识不足的一种方式。但是，当德梅诺卡尔的同事们未能掌握书法时，他们不得不延长逗留时间。De Menocal回忆道：“他们的笔迹太差了，以至于伦敦办事处无法利用他们的服务，他们都被送到一所英语学校学习如何写字，然后才被允许用笔写字。”2正如De Menocall所学到的，清晰准确的记录对金融机构的成功至关重要，这些机构本身就是连接帝国大都市及其殖民地、领土和世界各地市场的重要纽带。干净的笔迹和严谨的记账构成了金融帝国建立的平淡基础。3我的论文《分支：银行、信贷和全球化的美国经济，19000-2030年代》调查了这些基础。它解开了20世纪初美国全球实力扩张的相互关系，以及支撑它的美国外国银行业的协议和文书工作。这样做表明，美国帝国的建设并不是在华盛顿特区董事会设计的一个连贯、单一的项目，而是一个经常不同的公共和私营部门议程的共同产物。尽管关系紧张，但这些议程还是扩大了美国在世界各地的影响力。
{"title":"Branching Out: Banking, Credit, and the Globalizing US Economy, 1900s–1930s","authors":"Marilyn Bridges","doi":"10.1017/eso.2021.51","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1017/eso.2021.51","url":null,"abstract":"Daniel DeMenocal arrived in Hong Kong in the early 1900s as the first US staffer of one of the earliest US bank branches in Asia. Of all the things that might have impressed him—China’s treaty ports, financing opium trade, the language barrier—one that stuck out was the handwriting: “These young Britishers all had extremely good hand-writing,” he later recalled.1 DeMenocal learned the consequences of sloppywriting, after several colleagues from the International Banking Corporation were demoted over their poor handwriting. The bank sent young US staffers like De Menocal to London to learn proper British banking methods. At the time, the idea of a US “international banker” hardly existed. Training in Londonwas a way to counter the deficit in domestic know-how. But when De Menocal’s colleagues failed to master penmanship, they had to prolong their stay. “[T]heir handwriting was so bad,” recalled De Menocal, “that the London office could make no use of their service and they were all sent to an English school to be taught how to write before they were permitted to touch pen to paper.”2 As De Menocal learned, legible and accurate records were essential to the success of financial institutions, and those institutions were themselves vital linkages connecting imperial metropoles and their colonies, territories, andmarkets around the world. Clean handwriting and rigorous bookkeeping constituted the prosaic foundations onwhich financial empires were built.3 My dissertation, “Branching Out: Banking, Credit, and the Globalizing US Economy, 1900s–1930s,” investigates these foundations. It untangles the interrelations of expanding US global power in the early twentieth century and the protocols and paperwork of US foreign banking that undergirded it. Doing so reveals that US empire-building was not a coherent,monolithic project devised inWashington, DC, boardrooms but insteadwas amessy coproduction of often divergent publicand private-sector agendas. Despite their tensions, these agendas nevertheless had the effect of expanding US influence around the world.","PeriodicalId":45977,"journal":{"name":"Enterprise & Society","volume":"22 1","pages":"930 - 938"},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2021-12-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"42243638","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":2,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Business is commonly regarded as one of the powerful actors in the world today. However, this position is neither as straightforward as often believed nor particularly new. Nevertheless, business historians have not focused on the topic of business power to date, often leaving it as something lurking in the background of their analyses. There are signs that this may be beginning to change with the growth of studies on the history of capitalism, but this revised presidential address encourages business historians to engage more fully and explicitly with the concept of power and to recognize the different ways in which the concept can be used to enlighten the study of business history.
{"title":"“The Vast and Unsolved Enigma of Power”: Business History and Business Power","authors":"N. Rollings","doi":"10.1017/eso.2021.53","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1017/eso.2021.53","url":null,"abstract":"Business is commonly regarded as one of the powerful actors in the world today. However, this position is neither as straightforward as often believed nor particularly new. Nevertheless, business historians have not focused on the topic of business power to date, often leaving it as something lurking in the background of their analyses. There are signs that this may be beginning to change with the growth of studies on the history of capitalism, but this revised presidential address encourages business historians to engage more fully and explicitly with the concept of power and to recognize the different ways in which the concept can be used to enlighten the study of business history.","PeriodicalId":45977,"journal":{"name":"Enterprise & Society","volume":"22 1","pages":"893 - 920"},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2021-12-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"45170229","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":2,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Regardless of one’s political persuasion, there are a few basic tasks that most citizens would consider to be “essential” functions of government, and food inspection counts among them. Publicly mandated inspections served various functions over the decades: to prevent fraud and establish confidence in the marketplace, to ensure orderly marketing through quality assessment and grading, and to protect consumers from potentially hazardous or unsafe products. From milk to meat, fertilizer to fruits, inspections of food and other agricultural commodities became a widely accepted—and important—function of governments well before the twentieth century.1 Even in the infamous “America First” budget of 2017, which proposed billions in cuts across a swath of nonmilitary government programs, the Trump administration proposed a “fully funded” Food Safety and Inspection Service at the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA).2 Food inspectors have worked through government shutdowns and global pandemics; inspection is unquestionably “essential work.” Yet citizens frequently disagree over what inspection should mean, who should carry it out, and how they should accomplish that task. In “The Fox Guarding the Henhouse,” I analyze the prospects and limits of business selfregulation in food safety inspection through a study of the growth and development of the American poultry industry. Drawing on archival records, original field interviews, newspapers, periodicals, and government documents, I show how the debate over how to achieve “safe” and “inspected” chicken influenced not just the laws and regulations but also the organizational structure of firms, the nature of market competition, the trajectory of technological innovations, and even the biology of meat-type chickens. The project also reveals how an emerging system of international trade affected post-1945 developments in U.S. law and policy, and how American business leaders worked alongside regulators to reshape global standards at the turn of the twenty-first century. The dissertation begins in the mid-1950s, when an unlikely coalition of consumer advocates, organized labor, and a nascent poultry industry mobilized their congressional representatives to establish mandatory government inspection of poultry products in interstate commerce. This broad consensus around the need for “government inspection” of food
{"title":"The Fox Guarding the Henhouse: Coregulation and Consumer Protection in Food Safety, 1946–2002","authors":"Ashton W. Merck","doi":"10.1017/eso.2021.52","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1017/eso.2021.52","url":null,"abstract":"Regardless of one’s political persuasion, there are a few basic tasks that most citizens would consider to be “essential” functions of government, and food inspection counts among them. Publicly mandated inspections served various functions over the decades: to prevent fraud and establish confidence in the marketplace, to ensure orderly marketing through quality assessment and grading, and to protect consumers from potentially hazardous or unsafe products. From milk to meat, fertilizer to fruits, inspections of food and other agricultural commodities became a widely accepted—and important—function of governments well before the twentieth century.1 Even in the infamous “America First” budget of 2017, which proposed billions in cuts across a swath of nonmilitary government programs, the Trump administration proposed a “fully funded” Food Safety and Inspection Service at the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA).2 Food inspectors have worked through government shutdowns and global pandemics; inspection is unquestionably “essential work.” Yet citizens frequently disagree over what inspection should mean, who should carry it out, and how they should accomplish that task. In “The Fox Guarding the Henhouse,” I analyze the prospects and limits of business selfregulation in food safety inspection through a study of the growth and development of the American poultry industry. Drawing on archival records, original field interviews, newspapers, periodicals, and government documents, I show how the debate over how to achieve “safe” and “inspected” chicken influenced not just the laws and regulations but also the organizational structure of firms, the nature of market competition, the trajectory of technological innovations, and even the biology of meat-type chickens. The project also reveals how an emerging system of international trade affected post-1945 developments in U.S. law and policy, and how American business leaders worked alongside regulators to reshape global standards at the turn of the twenty-first century. The dissertation begins in the mid-1950s, when an unlikely coalition of consumer advocates, organized labor, and a nascent poultry industry mobilized their congressional representatives to establish mandatory government inspection of poultry products in interstate commerce. This broad consensus around the need for “government inspection” of food","PeriodicalId":45977,"journal":{"name":"Enterprise & Society","volume":"22 1","pages":"921 - 929"},"PeriodicalIF":1.0,"publicationDate":"2021-12-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"45882667","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":2,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
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