Coca Cola is frequently used to signal the large-scale transformation from socialism to capitalism in eastern and middle Europe, which began in East Germany in the autumn of 1989. In the famous German Wende-movie Goodbye Lenin, the caffeinated drink figures prominently. The main character in this movie is a middle-aged woman who has fallen into coma during one of the mass demonstrations in Berlin, in November 1989. When she finally wakes up, about one year later, her country no longer exists. Her children successfully hide this fact from her, surrounding her with the material remnants of the past. One day, when she gets out of bed, she sees people attaching a huge banner of Coca Cola to the large flat in front of her apartment bloc. The scene marks the beginning of her awareness that the world in which she used to live is definitively gone.

On May 29, 1945, Charles F. Calhoun, a vice president of the Permanente Metals Corporation (PMC), composed a telegram to his fellow company officers that celebrated a long-awaited triumph. “This is to confirm delivery to Tokyo, May 26th, during high wind, of large Permanente shipment by way Marion, Ohio, and B-29 express,” Calhoun began. “It is reported there was no loss of goods in transit but that considerable damage resulted from cargo being jettisoned within Tokyo city limits.” He could not resist adding, tongue firmly in cheek, “All ... claims of property damage will be forwarded to Permanente claims adjustment department.”

Statistical representations are usually the result of negotiations and conventions with regard to what should be counted, and how it should be counted. A wide literature has shown that this has been the case for almost any kind of statistical data collected in the last few centuries, from censuses to demographic, social, and economic surveys and time series.

Foreign direct investment entered into the Ottoman Empire to support and develop foreign trade. Europeans who wanted to sell their manufactured products and acquire raw materials were instrumental in the construction of trade-related infrastructure in this country. Therefore, the first French investments, like those of other countries, were made for constructing railways and ports. The growth of raw material production in primary commodities, finally led to an increase in the number of foreign service companies such as banks and insurance providers that served these transport and production facilities. The initial motivations of French investors were mainly economic as they tried to find new markets and secure a viable share in these markets before their international competitors. Motives gradually became political as the opinion about the disintegration of the Ottoman Empire got stronger by the end of the nineteenth century. The French government assisted its investors in obtaining important concessions for investments in Anatolia, the Balkans, and the Arab provinces of the Empire.

The Science of Difference examines life insurance companies' significant impact on the development of systems of human classification and discrimination in modern America. It pays closest attention to the tools employed by life insurance companies to enable and justify their discriminatory practices, tracing their evolution over the course of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Companies used life tables to think about sectional difference prior to the civil war; they collected statistics to defend the propriety of racial discrimination; and they revolutionized risk by inventing the medical “impairment.” Drawing on company archives and personal papers, as well as a wide range of publications, the dissertation describes corporate research in the financial industry, argues for the importance of cultural factors in tracing business history, and shows how the industry built a national statistical community with tools designed to measure and price human difference.

In his Farewell Address, President Eisenhower warned that the military-industrial complex (MIC) threatened to dominate American research, crowding out commercial innovation. Ironically, a number of analysts point to spin-off benefits of the 1950s' military effort as a crucial source of American high-tech competitiveness, often citing the key example of the relationship between military jet aircraft and the Boeing's 707. But the huge military investment in jet aviation had both benefits and costs for the commercial industry. This article compares the development of the Boeing 707 and its relationship to military projects like the KC-135 tanker to the contemporary development of commercial jet aircraft by other companies that were also integral parts of the military-industrial complex (MIC), including Douglas Aircraft and its commercial DC-8 and Convair and its commercial 880 and 990. Using evidence from archives, interviews with retired company executives, contemporary trade press, and academic studies, the article concludes that membership in the MIC did not offer firms a leg up in commercial markets. President Eisenhower was generally right about the costs of the military effort, but military spending remained low enough to allow commercial industry to thrive in parallel to the defense industry.

By World War I, the public (and later, many historians) had come to believe that teams of anonymous scientists in corporate research and development (R&D) laboratories had displaced “heroic” individual inventors like Thomas Edison and Alexander Graham Bell as the wellspring of innovation. However, the first half of the twentieth century was actually a long transitional period when lesser known independents like Chester Carlson (Xerox copier), Earl Tupper (Tupperware), Samuel Ruben (Duracell batteries), and Edwin Land (Polaroid camera) continued to make notable contributions to the overall context of innovation. Accordingly, my dissertation considers the changing fortunes of American independent inventors from approximately 1900 to 1950, a period of expanding corporate R&D, the Great Depression, and two world wars. Contrary to most interpretations of this period, I argue that individual, “post-heroic” inventors remained an important, though less visible, source of inventions in the early twentieth century.

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.

On January 31, 1957, about five weeks before the Gold Coast gained political independence from Britain, the country's first Prime Minister Kwame Nkrumah inaugurated the opening of Kingsway, Accra, the country's largest department store. Owned and operated by the United Africa Company (UAC), a subsidiary of the Anglo-Dutch multinational Unilever, Kingsway Stores were well known throughout British West Africa as a chain of urban retail outlets. Although Kingsway Stores originally targeted the needs of European colonials and their families, they increasingly attracted elite and emerging middle-class African shoppers. Equipped with an elevator, a modern car park, and three floors of retail space, the new state-of-the-art Kingsway building would be the first of its kind in all of West Africa. Invited to give the inaugural speech at the store's grand opening, Nkrumah stated: “It is idle to pretend that the people of the Gold Coast . . . [have] always been on the friendliest terms with such a mighty financial power as Unilever. But . . . my government like myself and the people of the Gold Coast, does prefer the devil it knows to the devil it does not know.”

Between the late 1940s and mid-1960s, American organized labor emerged among the most enthusiastic supporters of the military–industrial complex. This study examines that emerging relationship, focusing on the efforts of a group of unionists to mold defense spending into a vehicle for promoting employment and addressing social and economic problems.

During the Korean War, labor representatives drafted, lobbied for, and helped administration Defense Manpower Policy #4, a policy channeling defense spending to areas suffering high rates of unemployment. With the advent of the Eisenhower administration, preferential policies fell by the wayside, but organized labor continued to press, with some success for defense spending as a general antidote to economic downturns. Late in the 1950s, the Construction Trades Department of Congress of Industrial Organizations and the American Federation of Labor (AFL-CIO), reacting to double-digit unemployment in their ranks, became an active promoter of fallout shelter construction.

Despite some initial success in reimplementing preferential policies during the early months of the Kennedy administration, organized labor's defense agenda quickly ran afoul of Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara's plans to systematize and rationalize the defense sector.

In the end, resistance from military and business leaders greatly impeded labor's progress. At the very least, however, labor's defense agenda reflects a larger social vision and also suggests the very real attraction to many unionists of the military–industrial complex, a malleable economic realm, open to political influence and somewhat removed from the harsh forces of the market.

This paper analyzes the emergence of Japanese specialized industry, taking the production of Seiko watches at Hattori & Co. in the first half of the twentieth century as an example. It shows that the competitiveness of this industry, which established itself on the world market during the 1960s, was due to a process of technological hybridization between the American mass production system and the Swiss specialized production system. Starting in the 1910s and 1920s, Hattori selected a few high-precision Swiss watches and set itself the goal of producing them in mass using imported machine tools. Yet this hybrid production system ran into problems because parts were not interchangeable, as a result of which assembly continued along traditional lines until the end of the Second World War. It was only when the company hired many production engineers who had graduated from Japanese engineering faculties and when it began to work with outside research institutions, such as the Department of Precision Engineering of the University of Tokyo, that Hattori was able to implement fully a hybrid production system in the 1950s.

Although medieval pilgrimage has been the subject of extensive historical research, the economic and financial dimension has been somewhat neglected. This paper is an attempt to provide a synthesis of published and unpublished work on pilgrimage, focusing on the business management and promotional aspects of pilgrimage shrines. From the literature reviewed, it is clear that many ‘modern’ business practices were being widely used by pilgrimage centers throughout Europe in the middle ages. Examples can be found of active brand management and promotional techniques adopted by shrines operating within a highly competitive market for pilgrimage services.

My dissertation traces the invention and development of a new form of banking, body banking. Today, the body bank as an institution that collects, stores, processes, and distributes a human body product is a taken-for-granted aspect of medicine in the United States. We donate to blood banks, we cherish sperm bank babies, and we contemplate many sorts of banks, including cord blood banks, gene banks, and egg banks. Such institutions have existed for the past century in the metaphorical shadow of financial banks, and like those better-studied banks have stirred considerable controversy. The driving question behind my dissertation is simply, why banks? How did we come to use “bank” to apply to bodies as well as to dollars? More intriguingly, what does this analogy show us and what is it hiding?

On January 8, 2008, executives at MacDonald, Dettwiler and Associates (MDA), a systems engineering firm centered in Vancouver, British Columbia, triggered a political firestorm by announcing that, subject to regulatory approval by the governments of Canada and the United States, shareholders had approved the sale of the firm's space business to Alliant Techsystems (ATK), an aerospace company and manufacturer of land mines, cluster bombs, and missiles headquartered in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Daniel Friedmann, MDA's chief executive since 1995, argued the sale would “allow the company to focus management and financial resources exclusively on its rapidly growing information products business,” particularly the firm's property-information systems for those “involved in real estate-related transactions such as the buying, selling, conveyancing, mortgage financing, and insurance of properties.”

This essay examines the role of working-class consumers in public debates over the public regulation of food and fuel markets in Philadelphia in the years leading up to the Panic of 1837. As price spikes in these necessities inflamed the cries for state authorities to insure fair prices for these goods and to put an end to the growing scale and scope of free market capitalism, these pleas went unfulfilled. Instead, urban residents saw many of the longstanding measures designed to protect less affluent Americans from devastating price swings—regulated marketplaces for meat, traditional fuel markets, and the bread assize, for example—had eroded as policymakers offered a vision of a free market economy that pushed aside longstanding assumptions about the role of public officials in the marketplace itself.

The 1960s have been seen as critical in the development of multinational enterprise by social scientists. Business historians have provided a context to these developments but are only now beginning to consider the 1960s in the light of access to archival material. This article analyses the nature and extent of the tension between multinational enterprise and U.S. and U.K. national governments in the 1960s caused by the tightening of controls on FDI introduced to resolve balance of payments problems. A comparative approach is adopted to illustrate that these tensions were not restricted to the U.S. The tension revolved around different conceptions of business investment decision-making and of the contribution of multinationals to the national economy. It is also suggested that the impact of these measures was at the micro-level and this highlights the value of business history approaches.