A virtual counter-revolution

THE first internet boom, a decade and a half ago, resembled a religious movement. Omnipresent cyber-gurus, often framed by colourful PowerPoint presentations reminiscent of stained glass, prophesied a digital paradise in which not only would commerce be frictionless and growth exponential, but democracy would be direct and the nation-state would no longer exist. One, John-Perry Barlow, even penned “A Declaration of the Independence of Cyberspace”.

Even though all this sounded Utopian when it was preached, it reflected online reality pretty accurately. The internet was a wide-open space, a new frontier. For the first time, anyone could communicate electronically with anyone else—globally and essentially free of charge. Anyone was able to create a website or an online shop, which could be reached from anywhere in the world using a simple piece of software called a browser, without asking anyone else for permission. The control of information, opinion and commerce by governments—or big companies, for that matter—indeed appeared to be a thing of the past. “You have no sovereignty where we gather,” Mr Barlow wrote.

The lofty discourse on “cyberspace” has long changed. Even the term now sounds passé. Today another overused celestial metaphor holds sway: the “cloud” is code for all kinds of digital services generated in warehouses packed with computers, called data centres, and distributed over the internet. Most of the talk, though, concerns more earthly matters: privacy, antitrust, Google’s woes in China, mobile applications, green information technology (IT). Only Apple’s latest iSomethings seem to inspire religious fervour, as they did again this week.

Again, this is a fair reflection of what is happening on the internet. Fifteen years after its first manifestation as a global, unifying network, it has entered its second phase: it appears to be balkanising, torn apart by three separate, but related forces.

First, governments are increasingly reasserting their sovereignty. Recently several countries have demanded that their law-enforcement agencies have access to e-mails sent from BlackBerry smart-phones. This week India, which had threatened to cut off BlackBerry service at the end of August, granted RIM, the device’s maker, an extra two months while authorities consider the firm’s proposal to comply. However, it has also said that it is going after other communication-service providers, notably Google and Skype.

Second, big IT companies are building their own digital territories, where they set the rules and control or limit connections to other parts of the internet. Third, network owners would like to treat different types of traffic differently, in effect creating faster and slower lanes on the internet.

It is still too early to say that the internet has fragmented into “internets”, but there is a danger that it may splinter along geographical and commercial boundaries. (The picture above is a visual representation of the “nationality” of traffic on the internet, created by the University of California’s Co-operative Association for Internet Data Analysis: America is in pink, Britain in dark blue, Italy in pale blue, Sweden in green and unknown countries in white.) Just as it was not preordained that the internet would become one global network where the same rules applied to everyone, everywhere, it is not certain that it will stay that way, says Kevin Werbach, a professor at the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania.

To grasp why the internet might unravel, it is necessary to understand how, in the words of Mr Werbach, “it pulled itself together” in the first place. Even today, this seems like something of a miracle. In the physical world, most networks—railways, airlines, telephone systems—are collections of more or less connected islands. Before the internet and the world wide web came along, this balkanised model was also the norm online. For a long time, for instance, AOL and CompuServe would not even exchange e-mails.

Economists point to “network effects” to explain why the internet managed to supplant these proprietary services. Everybody had strong incentives to join: consumers, companies and, most important, the networks themselves (the internet is in fact a “network of networks”). The more the internet grew, the greater the benefits became. And its founding fathers created the basis for this virtuous circle by making it easy for networks to hook up and for individuals to get wired.

Yet economics alone do not explain why the internet rather than a proprietary service prevailed (as Microsoft did in software for personal computers, or PCs). One reason may be that the rapid rise of the internet, originally an obscure academic network funded by America’s Department of Defence, took everyone by surprise. “The internet was able to develop quietly and organically for years before it became widely known,” writes Jonathan Zittrain, a professor at Harvard University, in his 2008 book, “The Future of the Internet—And How To Stop It”. In other words, had telecoms firms, for instance, suspected how big it would become, they might have tried earlier to change its rules.

Whatever the cause, the open internet has been a boon for humanity. It has not only allowed companies and other organisations of all sorts to become more efficient, but enabled other forms of production, notably “open source” methods, in which groups of people, often volunteers, all over the world develop products, mostly pieces of software, collectively. Individuals have access to more information than ever, communicate more freely and form groups of like-minded people more easily.

Even more important, the internet is an open platform, rather than one built for a specific service, like the telephone network. Mr Zittrain calls it “generative”: people can tinker with it, creating new services and elbowing existing ones aside. Any young company can build a device or develop an application that connects to the internet, provided it follows certain, mostly technical conventions. In a more closed and controlled environment, an Amazon, a Facebook or a Google would probably never have blossomed as it did.

Forces of fragmentation

However, this very success has given rise to the forces that are now pulling the internet apart. The cracks are most visible along geographical boundaries. The internet is too important for governments to ignore. They are increasingly finding ways to enforce their laws in the digital realm. The most prominent is China’s “great firewall”. The Chinese authorities are using the same technology that companies use to stop employees accessing particular websites and online services. This is why Google at first decided to censor its Chinese search service: there was no other way to be widely accessible in the country.

But China is by no means the only country erecting borders in cyberspace. The Australian government plans to build a firewall to block material showing the sexual abuse of children and other criminal or offensive content. The OpenNet Initiative, an advocacy group, lists more than a dozen countries that block internet content for political, social and security reasons. They do not need especially clever technology: governments go increasingly after dominant online firms because they are easy to get hold of. In April Google published the numbers of requests it had received from official agencies to remove content or provide information about users. Brazil led both counts (see chart 1).

Not every request or barrier has a sinister motive. Australia’s firewall is a case in point, even if it is a clumsy way of enforcing the law. It would be another matter, however, if governments started tinkering with the internet’s address book, the Domain Name System (DNS). This allows the network to look up the computer on which a website lives. If a country started its own DNS, it could better control what people can see. Some fear this is precisely what China and others might do one day.

To confuse matters, the DNS is already splintering for a good reason. It was designed for the Latin alphabet, which was fine when most internet users came from the West. But because more and more netizens live in other parts of the world—China boasts 420m—last October the Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Numbers, the body that oversees the DNS, allowed domain names entirely in other scripts. This makes things easier for people in, say, China, Japan or Russia, but marks another step towards the renationalisation of the internet.

Many media companies have already gone one step further. They use another part of the internet’s address system, the “IP numbers” that identify computers on the network, to block access to content if consumers are not in certain countries. Try viewing a television show on Hulu, a popular American video service, from Europe and it will tell you: “We’re sorry, currently our video library can only be streamed within the United States.” Similarly, Spotify, a popular European music-streaming service, cannot be reached from America.

Yet it is another kind of commercial attempt to carve up the internet that is causing more concern. Devotees of a unified cyberspace are worried that the online world will soon start looking as it did before the internet took over: a collection of more or less connected proprietary islands reminiscent of AOL and CompuServe. One of them could even become as dominant as Microsoft in PC software. “We’re heading into a war for control of the web,” Tim O’Reilly, an internet savant who heads O’Reilly Media, a publishing house, wrote late last year. “And in the end, it’s more than that, it’s a war against the web as an interoperable platform.”

The trend to more closed systems is undeniable. Take Facebook, the web’s biggest social network. The site is a fast-growing, semi-open platform with more than 500m registered users. Its American contingent spends on average more than six hours a month on the site and less than two on Google. Users have identities specific to Facebook and communicate mostly via internal messages. The firm has its own rules, covering, for instance, which third-party applications may run and how personal data are dealt with.

Apple is even more of a world apart. From its iPhone and iPad, people mostly get access to online services not through a conventional browser but via specialised applications available only from the company’s “App Store”. Granted, the store has lots of apps—about 250,000—but Apple nonetheless controls which ones make it onto its platform. It has used that power to keep out products it does not like, including things that can be construed as pornographic or that might interfere with its business, such as an app for Google’s telephone service. Apple’s press conference to show off its new wares on September 1st was streamed live over the internet but could be seen only on its own devices.

Even Google can be seen as a platform unto itself, if a very open one. The world’s biggest search engine now offers dozens of services, from news aggregation to word processing, all of which are tied together and run on a global network of dozens of huge data-centres. Yet Google’s most important service is its online advertising platform, which serves most text-based ads on the web. Being the company’s main source of revenue, critics say, it is hardly a model of openness and transparency.

There is no conspiracy behind the emergence of these platforms. Firms are in business to make money. And such phenomena as social networks and online advertising exhibit strong network effects, meaning that a dominant market leader is likely to emerge. What is more, most users these days are not experts, but average consumers, who want secure, reliable products. To create a good experience on mobile devices, which more and more people will use to get onto the internet, hardware, software and services must be more tightly integrated than on PCs.

Net neutrality, or not?

Discussion of these proprietary platforms is only beginning. A lot of ink, however, has already been spilt on another form of balkanisation: in the plumbing of the internet. Most of this debate, particularly in America, is about “net neutrality”. This is one of the internet’s founding principles: that every packet of data, regardless of its contents, should be treated the same way, and the best effort should always be made to forward it.

Proponents of this principle want it to become law, out of concern that network owners will breach it if they can. Their nightmare is what Tim Wu, a professor at Columbia University, calls “the Tony Soprano vision of networking”, alluding to a television series about a mafia family. If operators were allowed to charge for better service, they could extort protection money from every website. Those not willing to pay for their data to be transmitted quickly would be left to crawl in the slow lane. “Allowing broadband carriers to control what people see and do online would fundamentally undermine the principles that have made the internet such a success,” said Vinton Cerf, one of the network’s founding fathers (who now works for Google), at a hearing in Congress.

Opponents of the enshrining of net neutrality in law—not just self-interested telecoms firms, but also experts like Dave Farber, another internet elder—argue that it would be counterproductive. Outlawing discrimination of any kind could discourage operators from investing to differentiate their networks. And given the rapid growth in file-sharing and video (see chart 2), operators may have good reason to manage data flows, lest other traffic be crowded out.

The issue is not as black and white as it seems. The internet has never been as neutral as some would have it. Network providers do not guarantee a certain quality of service, but merely promise to do their best. That may not matter for personal e-mails, but it does for time-sensitive data such as video. What is more, large internet firms like Amazon and Google have long redirected traffic onto private fast lanes that bypass the public internet to speed up access to their websites.

Whether such preferential treatment becomes more widespread, and even extortionary, will probably depend on the market and how it is regulated. It is telling that net neutrality has become far more politically controversial in America than it has elsewhere. This is a reflection of the relative lack of competition in America’s broadband market. In Europe and Japan, “open access” rules require network operators to lease parts of their networks to other firms on a wholesale basis, thus boosting competition. A study comparing broadband markets, published in 2009 by Harvard University’s Berkman Centre for Internet & Society, found that countries with such rules enjoy faster, cheaper broadband service than America, because the barrier to entry for new entrants is much lower. And if any access provider starts limiting what customers can do, they will defect to another.

America’s operators have long insisted that open-access requirements would destroy their incentive to build fast, new networks: why bother if you will be forced to share it? After intense lobbying, America’s telecoms regulators bought this argument. But the lesson from elsewhere in the industrialised world is that it is not true. The result, however, is that America has a small number of powerful network operators, prompting concern that they will abuse their power unless they are compelled, by a net-neutrality law, to treat all traffic equally. Rather than trying to mandate fairness in this way—net neutrality is very hard to define or enforce—it makes more sense to address the underlying problem: the lack of competition.

It should come as no surprise that the internet is being pulled apart on every level. “While technology can gravely wound governments, it rarely kills them,” Debora Spar, president of Barnard College at Columbia University, wrote several years ago in her book, “Ruling the Waves”. “This was all inevitable,” argues Chris Anderson, the editor of Wired, under the headline “The Web is Dead” in the September issue of the magazine. “A technology is invented, it spreads, a thousand flowers bloom, and then someone finds a way to own it, locking out others.”

Yet predictions are hazardous, particularly in IT. Governments may yet realise that a freer internet is good not just for their economies, but also for their societies. Consumers may decide that it is unwise to entrust all their secrets to a single online firm such as Facebook, and decamp to less insular alternatives, such as Diaspora.

Similarly, more open technology could also still prevail in the mobile industry. Android, Google’s smart-phone platform, which is less closed than Apple’s, is growing rapidly and gained more subscribers in America than the iPhone in the first half of this year. Intel and Nokia, the world’s biggest chipmaker and the biggest manufacturer of telephone handsets, are pushing an even more open platform called MeeGo. And as mobile devices and networks improve, a standards-based browser could become the dominant access software on the wireless internet as well.

Stuck in the slow lane

If, however, the internet continues to go the other way, this would be bad news. Should the network become a collection of proprietary islands accessed by devices controlled remotely by their vendors, the internet would lose much of its “generativity”, warns Harvard’s Mr Zittrain. Innovation would slow down and the next Amazon, Google or Facebook could simply be, well, Amazon, Google or Facebook.

The danger is not that these islands become physically separated, says Andrew Odlyzko, a professor at the University of Minnesota. There is just too much value in universal connectivity, he argues. “The real question is how high the walls between these walled gardens will be.” Still, if the internet loses too much of its universality, cautions Mr Werbach of the Wharton School, it may indeed fall apart, just as world trade can collapse if there is too much protectionism. Theory demonstrates that interconnected networks such as the internet can grow quickly, he explains—but also that they can dissolve quickly. “This looks rather unlikely today, but if it happens, it will be too late to do anything about it.”

The web's new walls

WHEN George W. Bush referred to “rumours on the, uh, internets” during the 2004 presidential campaign, he was derided for his cluelessness—and “internets” became a shorthand for a lack of understanding of the online world. But what looked like ignorance then looks like prescience now. As divergent forces tug at the internet, it is in danger of losing its universality and splintering into separate digital domains.

The internet is as much a trade pact as an invention. A network of networks, it has grown at an astonishing rate over the past 15 years because the bigger it got, the more it made sense for other networks to connect to it. Its open standards made such interconnections cheap and easy, dissolving boundaries between existing academic, corporate and consumer networks (remember CompuServe and AOL?). Just as a free-trade agreement between countries increases the size of the market and boosts gains from trade, so the internet led to greater gains from the exchange of data and allowed innovation to flourish. But now the internet is so large and so widely used that countries, companies and network operators want to wall bits of it off, or make parts of it work in a different way, to promote their own political or commercial interests (see article).

Walled wide web

Second, companies are exerting greater control by building “walled gardens”—an approach that appeared to have died out a decade ago. Facebook has its own closed, internal e-mail system, for example. Google has built a suite of integrated web-based services. Users of Apple’s mobile devices access many internet services through small downloadable software applications, or apps, rather than a web browser. By dictating which apps are allowed on its devices, Apple has become a gatekeeper. As apps spread to other mobile devices, and even cars and televisions, other firms will do so too.Three sets of walls are being built. The first is national. China’s “great firewall” already imposes tight controls on internet links with the rest of the world, monitoring traffic and making many sites or services unavailable. Other countries, including Iran, Cuba, Saudi Arabia and Vietnam, have done similar things, and other governments are tightening controls on what people can see and do on the internet.

Third, there are concerns that network operators looking for new sources of revenue will strike deals with content providers that will favour those websites prepared to pay up. Al Franken, a Democratic senator, spelled out his nightmare scenario in a speech in July: right-wing news sites loading five times faster than left-wing blogs. He and other advocates of “net neutrality” want new laws to stop networks discriminating between different types of traffic. But network operators say that could hamper innovation, and those on the right see net neutrality as a socialist plot to regulate the internet.

Thus the incentives that used to favour greater interconnection now point the other way. Suggesting that “The Web is Dead”, as Wired magazine did recently, is going a bit far. But the net is losing some of its openness and universality.

That’s not always a bad thing. The profits which Apple harvests from its walled garden have enabled it to provide services and devices that delight its customers, who may be happy to trade a little openness for greater security or ease of use; if not, they can go elsewhere. While some parents welcome Apple’s policy of blocking racy apps from its devices, for example, anyone who dislikes it can buy a Nokia or an Android phone instead. And existing antitrust laws can always be brought to bear if any company establishes and then abuses a dominant position in, say, mobile-phone operating systems or advertising platforms—something that has not happened yet.

Restrictions imposed by governments are more troubling, and harder to deal with. There is not much that outsiders can do about China’s great firewall. But Western governments can at least set a good example. Australia’s plan to build a Chinese-style firewall in an effort to block child pornography and bomb-making instructions, for instance, is daft and should be scrapped. It will be easy to evade, and traditional law-enforcement approaches are a better way to handle such problems than messing with the internet’s plumbing.

Governments inclined to censor might be swayed by arguments that focus on the economic benefits of openness. Duy Hoang, an American-based campaigner for democracy in Vietnam, has suggested that foreign critics stress the internet’s role in fostering trade, development, education and jobs. Similarly, China could be reminded how much more its scientists could achieve if they had unfettered access to information.

What about the risk that operators will fragment the internet by erecting new road-blocks or toll booths? In theory, competition between providers of internet access should prevent this from happening. Any broadband provider that tries to block particular sites or services, for example, will quickly lose customers to rival firms—provided there are plenty of them.

Why net neutrality is a distraction

But that is not the case in America. Its vitriolic net-neutrality debate is a reflection of the lack of competition in broadband access. The best solution would be to require telecoms operators to open their high-speed networks to rivals on a wholesale basis, as is the case almost everywhere in the industrialised world. America’s big network operators have long argued that being forced to share their networks would undermine their incentives to invest in new infrastructure, and thus hamper the roll-out of broadband. But that has not happened in other countries that have mandated such “open access”, and enjoy faster and cheaper broadband than America. Net neutrality is difficult to define and enforce, and efforts to do so merely address the symptom (concern about discrimination) rather than the underlying cause (lack of competition). Rivalry between access providers offers the best protection against the erection of new barriers to the flow of information online.

This newspaper has always championed free trade, open markets and vigorous competition in the physical world. The same principles should be applied on the internet as well.

Facebook a form of cyber-architecture

Architecture is usually understood as the science, or art, of designing buildings with a view to constructing them, but among its current definitions one also finds concepts such as “network architecture”, and the structural interaction, behaviour or design of a computer system or programme, down to the attributes of particular components of the system. Seen in this light, I would suggest, one could easily conceive of Facebook as a kind of cyber-architecture, where “cyber” denotes the virtual reality-environment — as opposed to the actual, or concrete reality-environment — in which it exists.

In the light of what I recently argued concerning the potential for “social control” created by the publicness of a plethora of personal information posted on Facebook — and other social networking sites like MySpace — it makes sense to comprehend such sites in terms of their “architectural” properties as defined above. All the more so, considering that architecture is the art of modulating space into place, and the kind of world opened up by computers via the entrance into the cyber-realm peculiar to it is conceived of as “virtual space”, within which all kinds of virtual places exist side by side, sometimes leading into and overlapping one another in uncanny, hyperlinked ways. In this respect the web resembles a gigantic, rhizomatically interconnected domain, somewhat like Bluebeard’s Castle, where some people have entered more rooms than others (sometimes with grave consequences), and the rooms keep on multiplying.

What strikes me about Facebook and MySpace is that, what Foucault observes in Discipline and punish regarding a certain kind of architecture that emerged in the course of the history of modernity, neatly captures, metaphorically, the overall societal function of the wide array of disciplinary techniques that has developed since then, from which one cannot exempt these virtual places:

“A whole problematic then develops: that of an architecture that is no longer built simply to be seen [as with the ostentation of palaces], or to observe the external space (cf. the geometry of fortresses), but to permit an internal, articulated and detailed control — to render visible those who are inside it; in more general terms, an architecture that would operate to transform individuals: to act on those it shelters, to provide a hold on their conduct, to carry the effects of power right to them, to make it possible to know them, to alter them. Stones can make people docile and knowable.”

I would like to add: Not only stones, but virtual visibility, too. Facebook and MySpace represent the cyber-counterpart of such architecture, and ultimately participates in its panoptical, disciplinary function. Evidently, judging by the cases referred to by Jeffrey Rosen in his New York Times-article on Facebook and MySpace (referred to by Mistral in my previous post), people are learning the hard lesson, that using, or “virtually inhabiting” these cyberspaces, unavoidably places them in the glare of virtual surveillance, with the same kind of consequences as those that prisoners in a panoptical prison experience when they engage in inadmissible activities in full view of warders.

An innocently intended photograph, or letter, published on one’s personal site on Facebook or MySpace, provides the means for (perhaps unexpected) censure or persecution by government agencies, educational, medical, or a host of professional authorities. Seen in this light, these communicational technologies comprise an extension of the disciplinary practices identified by Foucault, with the surprising twist, that participants in these social, communicational exchanges do not do so under duress, but voluntarily, with the supposed intention of sharing their personal experiences with others of their choosing. As already indicated, however, these “others” probably include individuals and representatives of agencies never counted in the circle of “friends” selected by users.

There is another side to this, too, however, although it cannot be separated from the panoptical side, and it, too, has to do with architecture. Historians of architecture usually distinguish between “non-pedigreed” (or “vernacular”) and “pedigreed architecture”, and Karsten Harries has drawn attention to the fact that most architectural histories turn out to be those of “architecture” such as sacred architecture (churches, temples), state architecture (houses of Parliament, town halls, law courts, libraries), other instances of public architecture (theatres and museums), corporate buildings (Mies’s Seagram Building, for instance) and the exceptional ones among private residences (like those designed by Frank Lloyd Wright).

It is not difficult to see in this list the implicit historical privileging of different kinds of society: sacred buildings (which predominated in architectural history until the 18th-century European Enlightenment) signify premodern, religion-oriented societies; the predominance of public, state buildings correspond with the nation state-oriented modern epoch, and today, the predominance of corporate buildings is symptomatic of the economically-oriented, postmodern society.

There is one big difference between the first two kinds of society and the last: Harries points out that, when sacred buildings like temples and churches predominated, and also when the public buildings signifying the centrality of the state preponderated, these architectural works were linked with a sense of community. In Harries’s words (in ‘The ethical function of architecture’):

“The ethical function of architecture is inevitably also a public function. Sacred and public architecture provides the community with a center or centers. Individuals gain their sense of place in a history, in a community, by relating their dwelling to that center.”

It is significant that “centre” is here understood in both a spatial and a cosmological sense — the church or temple occupied a politically important geographic place in the city, and also signified a symbolically crucial “place” or beacon in the religious or cosmological beliefs of these people (that is, regarding their spiritual “place” in the universe). This is why it was significant in promoting a sense of community. In the postmodern world, where economic considerations dominate, this sense of community is not entirely absent, but exists only in a fragmentary manner, and although, as Joel Bakan has observed, corporations structure our lives today, corporate culture does not promote a sense of community beyond the fragile one that adheres to brand or product loyalty.

But where does Facebook fit into all of this? It has to do with the fragmented, non-centred structure of postmodern society, from which, by all accounts, many (especially young) people feel alienated. Sherry Turkle (in Life on the screen) discusses several instances of young people who, not being able to secure a fulfilling job, having to settle for something arbitrary in the end (just to have an income), increasingly find personal and social fulfilment on the internet, in MUDs and social networking groups — surprisingly, even to the extent that they report “political involvement” (of a virtual kind) in online community organisations, while simultaneously professing complete lack of interest in “real world” politics.

Similar signs of virtual community-feeling are evident in online game-spaces, especially that of World of Warcraft, which boasts millions of users worldwide. Several surveys have found that players get so involved in this gaming cyberscape that they neglect their concrete lives to the point of losing their families, homes and incomes. But the message is the same as that transmitted by indications of the many hours that some Facebook users spend on the site: in the absence of the sense of community signified by the architectural-historical role of churches and public buildings, and because corporate architecture lacks the capacity to impart such a sense (like that in Houston, Texas, which Harries describes as signalling a “sense of nonplace”), many people are in the process of looking for the lost community online, on social networking sites and in the virtual spaces of online games. Such sites therefore seem, in this respect, to function like architecture has historically, and one may wonder what this augurs for the future of human communities.

The Experience Curve

The more experience a firm has in producing a particular product, the lower its costs

The experience curve is an idea developed by the Boston Consulting Group (BCG) in the mid-1960s. Working with a leading manufacturer of semiconductors, the consultants noticed that the company’s unit cost of manufacturing fell by about 25% for each doubling of the volume that it produced. This relationship they called the experience curve: the more experience a firm has in producing a particular product, the lower are its costs. Bruce Henderson, the founder of BCG, put it as follows:

Costs characteristically decline by 20-30% in real terms each time accumulated experience doubles. This means that when inflation is factored out, costs should always decline. The decline is fast if growth is fast and slow if growth is slow.

There is no fundamental economic law that can predict the existence of the experience curve, even though it has been shown to apply to industries across the board. Its truth has been proven inductively, not deductively. And if it is true in service industries such as investment banking or legal advice, the lower costs are clearly not passed on to customers.

By itself, the curve is not particularly earth shattering. Even when BCG first expounded the relationship, it had been known since the second world war that it applied to direct labour costs. Less labour was needed for a given output depending on the experience of that labour. In aircraft production, for instance, labour input decreased by some 10–15% for every doubling of that labour’s experience.

The strategic implications of the experience curve came closer to shattering earth. For if costs fell (fairly predictably) with experience, and if experience was closely related to market share (as it seemed it must be), then the competitor with the biggest market share was going to have a big cost advantage over its rivals. QED: being market leader is a valuable asset that a firm relinquishes at its peril.

This was the logical underpinning of the idea of the growth share matrix (seearticle). The experience curve justified allocating financial resources to those businesses (out of a firm’s portfolio of businesses) that were (or were going to be) market leaders in their particular sectors. This, of course, implied starvation for those businesses that were not and never would be market leaders.

Over time, managers came to find the experience curve too imprecise to help them much with specific business plans. Inconveniently, different products had curves of a different slope and different sources of cost reduction. They did not, for instance, all have the same downward gradient as the semiconductor industry, where BCG had first identified the phenomenon. A study by the Rand Corporation found that “a doubling in the number of [nuclear] reactors [built by an architect–engineer] results in a 5% reduction in both construction time and capital cost”.

Part of the explanation for this discrepancy was that different products provided different opportunities to gain experience. Large products (such as nuclear reactors) are inherently bound to be produced in smaller volumes than small products (such as semiconductors). It is not easy for a firm to double the volume of production of something that it takes over five years to build, and whose total market may never be more than a few hundred units.

In theory, the experience curve should make it difficult for new entrants to challenge firms with a substantial market share. In practice, new firms enter old industries all the time, and before long many of them become major players in their markets. This is often because they have found ways of bypassing what might seem like the remorseless inevitability of the curve and its slope. For example, experience can be gained not only first-hand, by actually doing the production and finding out for yourself, but also second-hand, by reading about it and by being trained by people who have first-hand experience. Furthermore, firms can leapfrog over the experience curve by means of innovation and invention. All the experience in the world in making black and white television sets is worthless if everyone wants to buy colour ones.

Further reading

De Bono, E., “Practical Thinking”, Cape, 1971; Penguin, 1976

Ghemawat, P., “Building Strategy on the Experience Curve”, Harvard Business Review, March–April 1985

Gottfredson, M. and Schaubert, S., “The Breakthrough Imperative”, HarperCollins, 2008

Henderson, B.D., “The Logic of Business Strategy”, Ballinger Publishing, 1984

Sallenare, J.P., “The Uses and Abuses of Experience Curves”, Long Range Planning, Vol. 18, No. 1, 1985

Stern, C.W. and Stalk, G. Jr (eds), “Perspectives on Strategy: From the Boston Consulting Group”, John Wiley & Sons, 1998

Offshoring

Economists argue that offshoring is a win-win phenomenon

Offshoring—the wholesale shifting of corporate functions and jobs (particularly those of back-office workers in it and accounting-type roles) to overseas territories—is what gave outsourcing a bad name. It is important, however, to note a crucial distinction between the two:

• Outsourcing need not necessarily result in job losses in a particular territory or country. A job can simply be handed over to another organisation of the same nationality and geographical location where (the company handing it over hopes) it can be carried out more efficiently. Sometimes that other organisation may be in another country, but more often than not it is not.

• Offshoring, however, does involve shifting jobs to another country, but it may not involve transferring jobs to another organisation. For example, a company may simply decide to move its local customer services operation to one of its own subsidiaries abroad. That is offshoring, but it is not outsourcing.

Economists argue that offshoring is a win-win phenomenon: the country that sends the work abroad gains from lower costs, and the country that gains the work gets extra jobs. But countries sometimes panic about the scale of offshoring. When production jobs moved en masse to China and other cheap labour destinations, rich-world governments did not worry unduly because they thought that their workers could glide painlessly from manufacturing jobs to service jobs. Who, they thought, would begrudge giving up a lifetime on the factory floor for a lifetime in a clean, antiseptic office?

The real problem arose when the service jobs also started to go abroad, when every other service company’s call centre suddenly seemed to be based in Bangalore, in the middle of India, not Indiana. What were western workers going to move on to this time, once they had been priced out of the services sector?

At one stage, Americans became almost hysterical about the issue. A 2004 report by Forrester Research, a highly reputable firm, estimated that 3.3m American jobs would have gone offshore by 2015. This was immediately taken as a known fact. But the author of the report subsequently told the Wall Street Journal that his estimates were no more than “educated guesses”. As one commentator said: “The public’s intense desire to understand the scope of the problem has bred a reliance on statistics that even [Forrester] admits are based heavily on guesswork.”

In practice, the hysteria died down, even as the benefits of offshoring were being questioned more and more. Managers found it increasingly difficult to manage far-flung service operations in cultures they did not understand, and firms began to bring some functions back to their home base—especially call centres, where customers often found it difficult to explain localised problems to someone working in a totally different climate in a totally different time zone. Indeed, in 2006 an Indian call-centre operator opened a new centre in Northern Ireland.

Closely allied to offshoring is the concept of nearshoring, a phenomenon whereby companies shift operations, often IT-related ones, to foreign countries that are close to their own, but where they can still gain a labour-cost advantage—from the United States, for example, where Spanish is the second language, to Mexico; or from Japan to the Chinese city of Dalian, which was occupied by the Japanese for many years and where there are Japanese-speakers. Nearby countries are more likely to speak the same language as the country of the corporation doing the offshoring; they are more easily accessible at short notice; and they are unlikely to leave the short-stay visitor with jet lag.

Further reading

Kobayashi-Hillary, M. (ed.), “Building a Future with BRICs: The Next Decade for Offshoring”, Springer, 2008

“Offshoring: Is It a Win-Win Game?”, McKinsey Global Institute, August 2003

OPERATIONS RESEARCH

The use of computer modelling and the simulation of business processes as a means of coming up with improvements in the way that things are done within an organisation

At the heart of operations research (OR) is the use of computer modelling and the simulation of business processes as a means of coming up with improvements in the way that things are done within an organisation. The tasks that OR examines are complex and involve many variables. They include things like designing an optimal telecommunications network in a situation where future demand is uncertain, or automating a paper-based bank clearing system.

According to the Operational Research Society:

Operational Research (OR), also known as Operations Research or Management Science (OR/MS), looks at an organisation’s operations and uses mathematical or computer models, or other analytical approaches, to find better ways of doing them.

The term “operational research” is generally used in the UK; the United States favours “operations research” or “management science”. Information technology is central to the skill of an operational researcher. But OR also draws on mathematics, engineering, physics and economics.

The heyday of OR was the 1950s and 1960s when, as Russell Ackoff, an OR academic, once put it, “use of quantitative methods became an ‘idea in good currency’”. By the 1990s, though, Ackoff found that OR had been pushed into “the bowels of the organisation not the head. When it could no longer be pushed down, it was pushed out”. This, he believed, was because OR had been “equated by managers to mathematical masturbation and to the absence of any substantive knowledge or understanding of organisations, institutions or their management”. Ackoff also claimed that there was a more fundamental flaw to OR. It is, he said, designed to “prepare perfectly for an imperfectly predicted future”, and it “helps us little and may harm us much”.

Igor Ansoff, author of the classic “Corporate Strategy”, was heavily influenced by the time he spent working on sophisticated operational research for the Rand Foundation in the early 1950s. Among other things, he analysed the extent of the exposure of NATO air forces to enemy attack.

OR was given a big boost by the second world war when researchers applied the principles of physics and engineering to military operations. After the war, military personnel took these practices with them to civvy street, and to the companies that they then went to work for. OR was often the entry point for engineers, like Ansoff, to come into general management. Many management gurus, including Frederick Taylor, W. Edwards Deming (the founder of the quality movement), Henry Mintzberg and Bruce Henderson (the man behind the experience curve), were trained first as engineers.

Further reading

Ackoff, R.L., “Redesigning the Future: A Systems Approach to Societal Problems”, John Wiley & Sons, 1974

Kirby, M., “Operational Research in War and Peace: The British Experience from the 1930s to 1970”, Imperial College Press, 2003

Taha, H.A., “Operations Research: an Introduction”, 8th edn, Prentice Hall, 2007

Journal of the Operational Research Society