It is possible to think of the difference between George and Mitt Romney as a series of adaptive changes, in which the original moderate instincts have devolved so completely that Mitt’s response to a rising and angry conservatism resembles Nixon’s far more than his father’s. Perhaps Mitt noticed, following the 1968 campaign intently from Europe, that it was Nixon’s opportunism, his skill at exploiting fears of unsettling demographic change, that won. But it is also true that George Romney’s cherished institutions have lost their power, and the vision in which they would make a better society has collapsed. In Mitt’s politics, his father’s fervent progressivism has become instead an ideologically empty pragmatism that succumbs to whatever his audience wants to hear. What remains is the peculiar character of the current Republican nominee for president, an organization man without organizations.
George Romney for President, 1968” by Benjamin Wallace-Wells

Observe now the degeneration of a magazine that once published Henry James and Mark Twain into an elaborate loss leader-cum-demand creation mechanism for an event-planning operation whose chief selling point is the promise that you’ll never read about it in the media, where certified Thought Leaders risk the loss of their health insurance for saying anything less than ultracanned and überphony…

Of course The Atlantic is a turgid mouthpiece for the plutocracy, a repository of shallow, lazy spin, and regular host of discussion forums during which nothing is discussed. It is, in every formal trait, a CIA front.

Omniscient Gentlemen of The Atlantic,” Moe Tkacik’s beautiful dark twisted fantasy of a takedown of the magazine, lost me just after this point

The China Price, 2003-2012

jdickerson:

Why are are there so many good British comedy teams and no good American ones?

If you listen to let’s say a measure of Rachmaninoff and then a measure of Bach, you know which is which without, you know immediately. And the question is well, why do you know that? They both are following basically the same rules of harmonic, of voice leading. But what happens is that you have in your, the course of your listening, you have taught yourself - you’ve recognized that Rachmaninoff will always solve a certain problem in a certain way. You may not say that to yourself, but your ear will tell you that. And that Bach will do it in his way. And you say, oh, that sounds like Bach or that sounds like Rachmaninoff or that sounds like Stravinsky. And what you’re hearing is let’s put it this way: You’re hearing the predilection of the composer to resolve a technical problem in a highly personal way.
Philip Glass on the relationship between technique and style
When asked about [entering politics], [Anschutz Entertainment Group CEO Tim] Leiweke offered a cursory denial, but then began talking about how deeply involved he intends to be in the coming Presidential campaign. Last time, he said, he gave money to Barack Obama, but he believes that the President has engaged in class warfare. “Look, I personally came from nothing,” he said. “Someone making me look like a bad guy because I’m making money now? I resent that. I’m really upset about about the way he is positioning this now about protecting the rich. I was never rich in my life. I earned everything, built my life from the ground up, and never got one damn break in my life! I resent the fact that when my mom was sick, and my dad had to pay for her treatment, it took every dime from my dad and broke him as a human being and he was never the same. And then, after we have overcome that, now to make me look like I’m bad, I’m evil, I’m greedy, I don’t give. Terrible!” He went on, “I hugely admire Phil [Anschutz, the 39th richest man in America] for putting everything back in. This is a man that’s never pulled anything out of this campus. Double down, triple down, quadruple down. And then people take shots at him because, they say, ‘He’s a billionaire.’ He’s the most humble man I know.
Astana has been the capital of Kazakhstan only since 1997, three years after [Kazakh leader Nursultan] Nazarbayev told a stunned parliament that a prosperous, independent country like Kazakhstan ought to have its capital “in the center” of the country, rather than on the border. It seemed like a bad idea. Dubai had beaches; Brasilia, which the Brazilian government built by fiat in the nineteen-fifties, had a sunny, gentle climate. Almaty, the old capital, was pleasantly situated in the foothills of the Tian Shan Mountain range, and was famous for its apple orchards. And Astana? It was six hundred miles to the north—that is to say, toward Russia—and bitterly cold. Kazakh nomads had grazed their flocks here, until they were annihilated by Stalin, after which the vast steppe turned into what one writer has bluntly called “Stalin’s dumping ground.” It was where he sent the “punished peoples”—the hundreds of thousands of Germans, Ingush, and Chechens deported en masse in the nineteen-thirties and forties. Was the parliament now a punished person? Stalin also sent hundreds of thousands of political prisoners to Kazakhstan. A few hours east of the proposed capital lay the town of Ekibastuz, where Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn served a term in a labor camp. The old name of the proposed capital was Akmola, “the white graveyard.” This is where Nazarbayev was suggesting that everyone move from Almaty, which means “father of apples.
Keith Gessen tours Astana, Kazakhstan’s fifteen-year-old capital city and—thanks to a $400 million influx of oil royalties—home to the world’s largest tensile structure, the Khan Shatyr. 

Balzac supposedly wrote that “behind every great fortune lies a great crime”. It would be truer to say that behind every great fortune there is a psychological aberration. Henry Ford hated Jews. George Eastman sanctioned industrial espionage. Thomas Watson turned IBM into a personality cult, complete with company songs about “our friend and guiding hand”, a man whose “courage none can stem”. Michael Milken, the inventor of junk bonds, was jailed. Richard Tedlow of Harvard Business School argues that many “giants of enterprise” suffer from what Norwegians call stormannsgalskap, the madness of great men…

The ugly side of these entrepreneurs is often just as important to their success as their admirable side. You cannot reshape an industry without extraordinary confidence in your own rightness. And it is hard to build a great company from scratch without what Mr Tedlow dubs “the imperialism of the soul”. But these negative qualities often end up undermining the empires that they helped to create. Ford’s stubbornness led him to mass-produce cars before there were many roads for people to drive them on. But it later blinded him to the fact that General Motors was beating him by giving consumers more choice. Mr Milken’s scorn for the way things had always been done allowed him to revolutionise financial markets. Yet it also blinded him to the fact that he was breaking the law. The bad side of great bad businessmen usually gets worse with age. They surround themselves with yes-men and family members (Mr Murdoch currently has two children working for his company). They become fixated on their earlier successes. Many start to believe that they are invulnerable even as their mortal powers begin to fade.

Adrian Wooldridge on business tycoons’ feet of clay

Writing in Bloomberg Businessweek, Charles Kenny pokes multiple holes in the canards the small businesses are engines of economic growth and that entrepreneurialism for its own sake is always and everywhere a virtuous and just pursuit:

A cross-country analysis of business surveys by economists Rafael La Porta of Dartmouth College and Harvard University’s Andrei Schleifer reveals that a society’s wealth is inversely proportional to the number of people who earn their livings from small businesses. Among the poorest quarter of the world’s economies, the proportion of people who are self-employed is 46 percent, compared with 13 percent in the richest quarter. The higher you go up the national-wealth ladder, the lower the number of small enterprises.

Why is that? La Porta and Schleifer’s data show that in developing countries, large companies are far more productive—with value added per worker an average of 59 percent higher. The productivity gap between small enterprises with an average of around eight employees and microenterprises with as few as one employee was even greater—more than 100 percent. That’s in part because the managers in larger companies are significantly better educated. Around a third of small enterprises were run by someone with a college education, compared with 85 percent of large companies. La Porta and Schleifer conclude that the “hope of economic development lies in the creation of large registered firms, run by educated managers and utilizing modern practices.”

Although often celebrated by development specialists, microenterprises run by poor people in the developing world are usually the result of an absence of other opportunities rather than an abundance of entrepreneurial zeal. Massachusetts Institute of Technology economists Abhijit Banerjee and Esther Duflo note that the majority of enterprises run by the world’s poor are shops making a few sales a day. They estimate that profit at the average shop in India amounts to the princely sum of $133 a year. What poor people consistently say is that they’d rather work for a stable employer. Finding such employment, argue Banerjee and Duflo, is the way rural people in India have been making their way out of poverty over the past couple of decades. What Case Western’s Shane concludes for the West is true worldwide: “Because the average existing firm is more productive than the average new firm, we would be better off economically if we got rid of policies that encouraged a lot of people to start businesses instead of taking jobs working for others.”

From a 2003 New York Times Magazine piece on the iPod, “The Guts of a New Machine:”

Looking back at my notes, I found it remarkable how many of [Steve Jobs’] answers begin with some variation of ”No,” as if my questions were out of sync with what he wanted to say. (Before I could finish a question about the significance of Apple’s pitching a product to Windows users, for instance, he corrected me: ”We’re not pitching the Windows user. We’re pitching the music lover.”) After half an hour of this, my inquiries really did start to fall apart, so I didn’t expect much when I resorted to asking, in so many words, whether he thinks consciously about innovation.

”No,” he said, peevishly. ”We consciously think about making great products. We don’t think, ‘Let’s be innovative!”’ He waved his hands for effect. ”’Let’s take a class! Here are the five rules of innovation, let’s put them up all over the company!”’

Well, I said defensively, there are people who do just that.

”Of course they do.” I felt his annoyance shift elsewhere. ”And it’s like … somebody who’s not cool trying to be cool. It’s painful to watch. You know what I mean?” He looked at me for a while, and I started to think he was trying to tell me something. Then he said, ”It’s like … watching Michael Dell try to dance.” The P.R. minder guffawed. ”Painful,” Jobs summarized.

What I had been hoping to do was catch a glimpse of what’s there when you pull back all those layers — when you penetrate the aura, strip off the surface, clear away the guts. What’s under there is innovation, but where does it come from? I had given up on getting an answer to this question when I made a jokey observation that before long somebody would probably start making white headphones so that people carrying knockoffs and tape players could fool the world into thinking they had trendy iPods.

Jobs shook his head. ”But then you meet the girl, and she says, ‘Let me see what’s on your iPod.’ You pull out a tape player, and she walks away.” This was an unanticipated, and surprisingly persuasive, response. That’s thinking long-term, I said. ”No,” said Steve Jobs. ”That’s being an optimist.”

Stay hungry. Stay foolish.  

As a follow-up to that Economist chart on the world’s largest employers, check out this interview with Dan Breznitz, author of a new book on China’s push towards innovation called Run of the Red Queen. I easily forgot how large scale everything is in China, but consider how much more efficiently a Chinese company like Foxconn can mobilize 200,000 of its workers than can an American institution like the military:

China’s companies are extremely efficient at creating new versions, often simpler, cheaper and more efficient, of technologies and products shortly after they are invented and marketed elsewhere in the world. For instance, I can’t think of any company in the world that can have over 200,000 people in one location producing a wide array of electronic gadgets for multiple companies other than Foxconn in China.

The American military, the best fighting machine in the world, can hardly move 200,000 people into the exact locations it wants them in months, but this company moves engineers and production workers from line to line and product to product with amazing efficiency. This is production innovation. China does innovate.

In novel-product innovation, China is very weak. There’s no way around it. The central government is the main antagonist in the process. The political economic institutions and system in China make it so entrepreneurs can’t make profit by developing novel innovation. But this same system makes process and second-generation innovation very profitable and successful.

Today’s daily chart from The Economist looks at the world’s largest employers. What’s striking is how many of them are government provided:

[O]f the ten biggest global employers, below, seven are government-run. America’s defence department had 3.2m people on its payroll last year, equivalent to 1% of the country’s population. China, the world’s most populous nation and a big military spender, employs 2.3m people in its armed forces. And the number of people working for the National Health Service in England is equivalent to over 2.5% of the country’s population.

Most US job growth since the 1990s has been in three sectors: health, education and government. Nine of the 10 largest occupations earn less than the mean hourly wage. Those with the fastest growth are nurses, home health aides and customer service clerks. Middle-skill jobs with decent wages have disappeared, while downward mobility and unskilled immigration has swollen the low-wage domestic service sector.

America’s struggling workforce faces mass unemployment, low pay, inadequate benefits and highly regressive taxation. The centre-right’s ownership society and the centre-left’s knowledge economy are irrelevant to these problems. It is an insult to tell struggling health aides and store clerks to supplement their income by investing in stocks. It is a cruel joke to tell most of them that they should go to college, become entrepreneurs and found start-ups.

New America’s Michael Lind writing in the FT about the intellectual collapse of the “ownership society” and the “knowledge economy,” the modern governing philosophies of the center-right and center-left, respectively.  

Back in May, IMAX CEO Rich Gelfond had this to say to Bloomberg Businessweek about Hollywood’s summer slate:

It really is an embarrassment of riches…  You’d like to have a little more time.

Now, keep in mind this is a summer slate that included, in the words of Mark Harris writing in GQ

four adaptations of comic books. One prequel to an adaptation of a comic book. One sequel to a sequel to a movie based on a toy. One sequel to a sequel to a sequel to a movie based on an amusement-park ride. One prequel to a remake. Two sequels to cartoons. One sequel to a comedy. An adaptation of a children’s book. An adaptation of a Saturday-morning cartoon. One sequel with a 4 in the title. Two sequels with a 5 in the title. One sequel that, if it were inclined to use numbers, would have to have a 7 1/2 in the title.

Well, now that Labor Day has passed, we can evaluate Gelfond’s cheerfulness against the season’s total ticket tally.  The results: this summer’s “embarrassment of riches” is really just an embarrassment

From the first weekend in May to Labor Day, a period that typically accounts for 40 percent of the film industry’s annual ticket sales, domestic box-office revenue is projected to total $4.38 billion, an increase from last year of less than 1 percent, according to Hollywood.com, which compiles box-office data.

The bad news: higher ticket prices, especially for the 18 films released in 3-D (up from seven last summer), drove the increase. Attendance for the period is projected to total about 543 million, the lowest tally since the summer of 1997, when 540 million people turned up.

Hollywood has now experienced four consecutive summers of eroding attendance, a cause for alarm for both studios and the publicly traded theater chains. One or two soft years can be dismissed as an aberration; four signal real trouble.

That’s Brook Barnes writing in Monday’s New York Times. She tries to salvage a silver lining from these woeful numbers and settles on the good omens for old-fashioned, adult-oriented fare:

Amid all of the special effects and computer animation, two old-fashioned films aimed at adults turned in impressive results. “The Help,” a DreamWorks Studios adaptation of a best-selling novel, has ridden strong reviews to $122 million in ticket sales and counting. Earlier in the summer, “Midnight in Paris,” distributed by Sony Pictures Classics, became an outsize hit for Woody Allen, selling $53 million in tickets.

“It’s always kind of funny to see Hollywood surprised that movies aimed at adults succeed in the summer,” said Mr. Contrino of BoxOffice.com. “If you don’t feed them garbage — surprise — they buy tickets.”

It’d be great if this were true, but something tells me that less than $200 million in domestic ticket sales against a total summer take of nearly $4.5 billion is not about to cause a paradigm shift in Tinseltown, especially when you hear nonsense like this from a studio head:  

Efforts by 20th Century Fox, owned by the News Corporation, to restart its “X-Men” and “Planet of the Apes” franchises were particularly impressive. Fox took creative risks with “X-Men: First Class” and “Rise of the Planet of the Apes,” and it was rewarded with hits that will spawn sequels.

“The lesson for us is that different and original is always hard and always a risk but has great upside,” said Tom Rothman, co-chairman of Fox Filmed Entertainment. “While both of those films had genetic material in common with their original franchises, both were very, very original pieces.” Notably, “First Class” and “Rise” received some of the summer’s best reviews.

No, Tim, prequels are inherently derivative. Your creative strategy is adrift when you find yourself following the advice of that auteur Homer Simpson:

Homer: How did the country lose its way, Mel? When did we stop rooting for the man with a flame-thrower or an acid-spraying gun of some kind?

Gibson: I blame the internet. And the return of swing music.

Homer: Well, whatever it is, we gotta get rolling on our next picture. Hey, what about a prequel of something? Everybody loves prequels.