In the 1960s and 1970s, the largest U.S. chemical firm, E.I. du Pont de Nemours & Company, established an international presence in synthetic fibers by building plants to make nylon, polyester, and acrylic in Latin America and Europe. DuPont managers also looked to the Middle East, specifically to Iran, which was fast industrializing under Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi. The Shah's pro-Western stance and his country's rich oil fields made Iran appealing to a petrochemical giant like DuPont, which used petroleum feed stocks to make fibers and other products. In the 1970s, DuPont partnered with the Behshahr Industrial Group, a conglomerate run by the Ledjavardi clan, one of Iran's leading families, to build a high-tech fiber facility that would help modernize the Iranian textile industry. The story of this short-lived joint venture, a victim of the Islamic Revolution, demonstrates the challenges to multinationals operating in imperial Iran, and shows how the daily experience of dealing with cultural differences often masked larger political and economic troubles.

The geometric pattern of Amsterdam's canals was iconic of its nineteenth-century social order. The spider's web of canals fanned out along the Amstel river in concentric rings, its barge traffic linking the city to its hinterland, the province of Holland, and to the wider Netherlands of which it is the nominal capital. These canals divided the “Venice of the North” into ninety islands linked by more than a thousand bridges. Imposing aristocratic and merchant houses stretched along the innermost canal ring, the Golden Curve of the Gentleman's Canal. At the center of the web lay de Dam, the 200 m long market square built on the first medieval dike protecting the city from the encroaching sea. The three pillars of the Dutch state framed the market square: the Royal Palace of the Merchant King, the Dutch Reformed New Church, and in the nineteenth century, the Amsterdam stock market, the world's oldest exchange.

The commercial traveler, or traveling salesman, was an agent of commercialism and modernization as well as a stock character in British popular culture. To C. Wright Mills, salesmen faced particularly challenging demands to conform to managerial direction. This article examines how British salesmen negotiated their occupational identity during the twentieth century. Developments in marketing, corporate growth, and periods of war and recession all challenged salesmen’s status and autonomy. These influences prompted a lengthy and recurring debate about how best to present, defend, and justify their work and identity. New marketing techniques and management systems evolved steadily, rather than producing sudden or uniform changes in the ways in which salesmen worked. Their culture of enterprise and individualism persisted, in part as it was shared by employers and managers. The impact of new marketing methods proved greatest in confectionery, tobacco, and other consumer goods trades as sales of branded, packaged goods expanded. Even then, salesmen contributed to shaping their work and occupational identity, proving unable to establish professional credentials and dividing over whether adopting trade union methods could improve their position.

This paper discusses the origins of rating in the second half of the nineteenth century. We review and criticize existing narratives, which—echoing a story told by lawyers favorable to (or employed by) the agencies—have alleged that a cultural shift in normative views, evidenced in an evolution of court decisions, provided legal protection (against libel) to agencies, and permitted the development of printed credit reports. Such a view is inconsistent with evidence from actual judicial decisions and from our exploration of archival material. Looking at both litigated and settled cases, we show that the rise of mercantile agencies in the late nineteenth century was the product of a farsighted corporate strategy applied ruthlessly to a legal system that was still very reluctant to permit the agencies to “commoditize” credit.

In many countries governments and labor unions have contested the post-war rise of temporary agency work, arguing that this innovation infringed on workers' rights and security. We investigate the rhetorical strategies used by Dutch temporary work agencies (TWAs) to gain legitimacy for their business between 1961 and 1996. Our conclusion is that the TWAs' trade association ABU developed a sophisticated rhetoric of “self-restraint” to legitimize the deployment of a non-standard labor arrangement. The core message was that – if applied properly - agency work did not threaten permanent employment. The complexity of the inclusive nature of this rhetorical approach, aiming to acknowledge the concerns of multiple stakeholders, was reflected in ABU's difficulty in aligning its claims of socially responsible behavior with an effective defense of the sector's economic interests. Still, the consistent focus on restraint lent credibility to the claimed function of “allocating” workers to their jobs that eventually gained the TWA industry fundamental acceptance as a responsible labor market actor.

Jardine Matheson & Company, a Hong Kong conglomerate founded in 1832, has survived political upheaval and global and regional economic crises, transforming itself several times. From their beginnings in the commission business, William Jardine and James Matheson developed a reputation for sound financial management that furthered their trading relationships and supported their firm's expansion from agency house to managing agent to investment house between 1832 and 1885. Fundamental to Jardine Matheson's success was the strategic decision to eschew speculation and to concentrate on building a pattern of relationships within and outside the business that would foster the flow of information, the knowledge with which to interpret it, the ability to influence others, and a reputation for probity that would attract and retain trading partners.

Alfred D. Chandler entered my professional life incrementally rather than dramatically.As a student of economic history at CambridgeUniversity in Britain in the early 1970s, I barely encountered his name. British universities had their own long traditions in business and economic history, including a strong interest in entrepreneurship and in government policies toward industry. Most British scholars were not especially enthusiastic about ideas from across the Atlantic, whether the methodological approach of the new economic history of Robert Fogel, or Chandler's organizational synthesis. Cambridge was an especially closed academic world, with a strong assumption that little that happened outside its delightful campus could be really important. It was not until 1979, when I was recruited by the Business History Unit at the London School of Economics (LSE), headed by Chandler's (then) acolyte Leslie Hannah, that I read Strategy and Structure, nearly two decades after it was published.

In 1906, a writer declared that it remained an “unsolved problem whether the automobile is to prove a fad like the bicycle, or a lasting factor in the industry of the country.” A few years later, concerned with the possibility of overproduction and market saturation, auto executives and other commentators were writing articles for the advertising trade press with titles like “Why Auto Production Must Be Curtailed” and “The Fading of the Automobile Rainbow.” Considering that by the early twenty-first century, the United States had a population of nearly 300 million people and an average of 2.1 registered motor vehicles per household, it is difficult to appreciate how uncertain the industry’s status seemed in its early years. Yet although contemporary observers may not have known it, in many ways by the end of 1908 the foundation stoneswere already in place for a hundred years of automotive economic and cultural preeminence in the United States. Two events from that year are well known as harbingers of the industry’s future. In September, General Motors was established, and in October, Ford introduced its Model T to the nation's auto dealers. In time, these developments had a profound impact on American automobile manufacture and management.

There have been calls in recent literature for researchers to open up the “black box” of business schools to explore their dynamics and behaviors in-depth for a context-sensitive understanding of their evolution. Drawing on the case of ESCP, a leading business school in France, this article shows how European business schools’ curricula have evolved since the late 1960s in response to a combination of powerful actors’ demands and the emergence of new processes in the educational domain. This article finds that while European business schools’ curricula reflect the influence of internal and external forces, they do not converge to a common type, because of the different markets and political and cultural contexts in which they operate. It also finds that business schools in Europe purposefully do not imitate those in United States.

In the 1950s, part-time work gradually became an element of labor policy to activate women to participate in the labor market that could be transferred from one country to another. Support of part-time employment in the Dutch labor market, however, was initially not endorsed as a solution to the problem of low female labor force participation but was the outcome of a more complex set of deliberations, in which the moral economy of employers’ organizations conflicted with broader demands for increased productivity. The article contrasts the initial concerns of Dutch employers about increasing women’s labor force participation with the country’s later international role in advocating part-time work for married women on an international scale. The Netherlands thereby serves as a case study of how employers’ organizations instrumentalized part-time employment for their own moral economy based in the breadwinner ideology.

This article examines the formation in 1890 of the United Alkali Company in order to explore new perspectives on the transition to a corporate economy. Its starting point is the process of transition itself, highlighting the role played by networks. This perspective promotes an emphasis on institutional environments and on patterns of relationships and behavior, as opposed to those of formal structure. Thus, the archives of the company are probed for evidence of how key agents conceived of the firm. Finally, governance systems are seen as interacting in a dynamic fashion with the institutional environment, and in particular with the balance of internal and external economies.

Privatization is closely associated with the ideological turn to neoliberalism and regarded as a cornerstone of Britain’s “Thatcherite project.” Margaret Thatcher’s Conservative government did not undertake its major privatizations of state-owned businesses until its second term began in 1983. We argue in this article, however, that the 1980 disposal by the National Enterprise Board of its controlling interest in the engineering and electronics company Ferranti offers significant insights into the development of privatization policy and practice, as well as the changing role of the state in British business. This disposal reflected the early caution of some of the Thatcher government’s actions but contributed to fulfillment of an electoral commitment and provided valuable privatization experience in addressing difficult financial, industrial, and political issues.

From an international perspective, the Dutch system of old age provisions stands out for its wide coverage, fixed benefits, and an overall actuarial soundness that seem to make this system more shock proof to demographic shifts and economic adversities than those in other “Western” countries. Its actual foundation is a compulsory old age insurance for all citizens, enforced by law and implemented by the state; this insurance is supplemented by fully funded pension schemes for workers and employees, operating under legal control; and finally there is a variety of additional and noncompulsory pension benefits and individual insurance arrangements. The main impetus to the genesis of this system came from employers who, with different agendas, created various pension funds; eventually it was the state, which set a decisive example with a funded pension fund for its civil servants. This became the standard to all corporate pension schemes and provoked innovations like branch funds. These initiatives were supported and regulated by legislation that made these arrangements compulsory and guaranteed their juridical independence and actuarial soundness. Only after this legally promoted maturation of private funds, the state set out to create public arrangements on a “pay-as-you-go” basis for all citizens. This delicate interplay between private and public pension arrangements is highly characteristic of the Dutch variety of capitalism in a broader context. In the polarity between liberal and coordinated market economies, as developed by Soskice and Hall, the Dutch system of old age provisions has played a prominent role in ranking this country more firmly into the latter category. However, within this range of countries the Dutch system of old age provisions is also a bit atypical: private corporate and branch arrangements were encouraged and at the same time embedded in a legal framework. The role of the state was also remarkable: a supervisor of the private funds, a collector and distributor in a universal insurance system, and an employer with an exemplary pension scheme.

In 1868, the prominent British firm, Jardine, Matheson & Co., opened the Niuzhuang Oil Mill, one of China’s earliest mechanized factories, but closed it in 1870. The mill faced no oppositions from local government officials but suffered from some technical defects. It produced better quality products that obtained higher prices. This essay argues that the mill’s failure had to do with high capital costs and low profitability.

Because most histories of military-industrial relations have rested on the examples of arms production and shipbuilding, balanced accounts of military procurement and technologies during the nineteenth century are difficult to find. In fact, weapons and ships accounted for a relatively small fraction of all the goods and services consumed by nineteenth-century armed forces. This article, which describes the tent industry in the United States during the Civil War, suggests that many military enterprises of the period were characterized by an industrial dynamic that was relatively extensive rather than intensive. In the U.S. tent industry, the leading military contractors were mercantile firms, which stood at the center of disintegrated production and distribution networks. Featuring relatively low-capital production arrangements, large numbers of women workers, and powerful mercantile intermediaries who linked manufacturers and army purchasing agents, the Civil War tent business is an example that challenges traditional accounts of the economic foundations of nineteenth-century military capability.

In the 1920s, the German government secretly supported private business activities across the German-Polish border due to revisionist political aims. Based on these aims, the (in-) famous industrialist Friedrich Flick was able to attract financial support for otherwise uneconomical activities in Upper Silesia to which the government provided “insurance.” Not even considering the possibility of moral hazard and holdup, the German government was captured in its secret cooperation with Flick, who could effectively exploit this “insurance.” Until 1931, Flick was able to gain high subsidies and to use them efficiently building up an industrial empire that comprehended the German, Polish, and Austrian iron and steel industry. The interplay of German foreign policy and private business activities in the inter-war years is analyzed as an agency problem in a specific “public-private partnership” that allowed for blackmailing the Government.

Numerous historians of deindustrialization argue that industries went into decline because established manufacturers moved production to cheaper locales to escape unions and high wages. A different pattern of decline occurred in the New England cotton textile industry, where downsizing began in the 1920s. Rather than fleeing their home area to build facilities elsewhere, most New England manufacturers were driven out of business by lower-cost competitors in the American South. Southerners founded, managed, and financed a heavy majority of the textile companies in their region. Although some New England firms did set up Southern plants, this was a defensive reaction to changing market realities. New competitors have brought about deindustrialization in other core U.S. industries. Recognizing this trend is important for a full understanding of the political economy of modern capitalism.