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Theorizing Indian Cinema as a national cinema, film studies have focused on the relationship between popular Hindi films and the Indian nation. Sumita Chakravarty's National Identity in Indian Popular Cinema: 1947–87 set the trend for a number of texts that viewed Indian popular cinema as a cultural system through which the new nation was imagined. Readings of popular Hindi films by scholars such as Ashish Rajadhyaksha, Madhava Prasad, Ravi Vasudevan and Gayatri Chatterjee have called attention to their nationalistic ideology and to their commitment to the nationalistic drive towards modernity and highlighted the role they played in the formation of the Indian citizen subject. Lately, Hindi Cinema, rechristened Bollywood, has begun to attract attention as a transnational phenomenon. Vijay Mishra, in Bollywood Cinema: Temples of Desire, was the first to draw a parallel between the collective experience of reading newspapers creating the sense of belonging to a nation on the one hand and on the other, ‘the way in which Bombay Cinema constructs an Indian diaspora of shared cultural idiom.’ Whether it was ‘a decidedly ideological form’ or whether its ‘catholicity’ was triggered by commerce or not, most studies concur that the simulacra of Hindi Cinema partially facilitated the confirmation, if not the construction, of the Indian nation and Indian modernity. As a consequence, the music of Hindi Cinema, which has evolved its distinctive idiom by blending classical and folk Indian traditions with Western, has acquired the status of national popular music.
When the first edition of this book was published 1992, the concept ‘national innovation system’ was known only by a handful of scholars and policy makers. Over a period of 15 years there has been a rapid and wide diffusion of the concept. Giving ‘Google’ the text strings ‘national innovation system(s)’ and ‘national system(s) of innovation’ you end up with almost 1.000.000 references. Going through the references you find that most of them are recent and that many of them are related to innovation policy efforts at the national level while others refer to new contributions in social science.
Using Google Scholar (May 2007) we find that more than 2000 scientific publications have referred to the different editions of this book. Economists, business economists, economic historians, sociologists, political scientists and especially economic geographers have utilized the concept to explain and understand phenomena related to innovation and competence building.
In this paper we argue that during the process of diffusion there has been a distortion of the concept as compared to the original versions as developed by Christopher Freeman and the IKE-group in Aalborg. Often policy makers and scholars have applied a narrow understanding of the concept and this has gives rise to so-called ‘innovation paradoxes’ which leave significant elements of innovation-based economic performance unexplained. Such a bias is reflected in studies of innovation that focus on science-based innovation and on the formal technological infrastructure and in policies aiming almost exclusively at stimulating R&D efforts in high-technology sectors.
‘Is it expected to rain today?’ I ask the liveried porter at our hotel. ‘I’ ‘ope not, Sir’, he replies. ‘I also hope not. But will it rain today?’ I persist, trying to find out the weather forecast. ‘Sir, that is what I am telling you, I ‘ope not.’ I abandon my meteorological quest.
His hope turns out to be true. As we step out for our first day in Lisbon the weather is gorgeous, like the Delhi winters of my student days in the early 1970s, with blue skies and an invigorating nip in the air. Lisbon lies sparkling in the sun, like an old feudal mansion, jaded, gutted, overrun by crowded homes, but still undefeated and proud of its history. Castles jut out from hilltops and splendid marble statues with chipped edges adorn the piazzas.
Our first day is spent walking aimlessly in the city. Alfama, spread along the side of a hill, is a rundown old part of Lisbon, crisscrossed by narrow lanes. There one comes across old women leaning out of windows, chatting with their neighbours across the road, raising their voices freely to counter the sound of the breeze that coasts in from the Atlantic and the flutter of clothes drying on clotheslines flung across the lanes. The lanes give way in places to stairways, where there is a particularly steep slope to negotiate, and then, spectacularly, to the miradours—marble terraces, where the passerby can stop to view the ocean.
Politics is a reason for hope and despair. Al Gore is exemplary of how the politician can disabuse a public fervently engaged in denial. That alone is reason for hope. But Al's political career is passé composé. What about the leaders du jour? With science on the side of stabilizing atmospheric carbon, a new generation can impose the necessary limits. Voters in both the North and South have expressed a strong desire for “change we can believe in.” Is the supply of leaders meeting the demand? Unfortunately, in politics there is always reason for despair. Heads of state will find resilience in the system they campaigned to change; relentlessly, the system will try to change the politicians. The first sign of system resilience is a stream of incoherent messages as the politician transitions from the campaign trail to the seat of power. Pronouncements of fossil fuel exploration and a commitment to stabilizing atmospheric carbon is the doublethink that grips both the North and South.
The saving grace is humor, the scarcest of all resources. A clever turn of phrase can pierce the cold indifference of denial and expose the beguiling incoherencies. By the mid-1970s, the economist and polymath Nicholas Georgescu-Roegen had already surmised the fate of business-as-usual:
Perhaps the destiny of man is to have a short but fiery, exciting, and extravagant life rather than a long, uneventful, and vegetative existence. […]
Bollywood, or Bombay Cinema, or Indian Entertainment Cinema went global in 1995, with Aditya Chopra's Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge (The True of Heart Will Win the Bride). DDLJ, as the film came to be called (in the 1990s' style of abbreviating long Bollywood titles), outperformed Maine Pyaar Kiyaa (I Have Loved, 1989) in the box office which in its day had outperformed the long-time record-holder Sholay (Flames, 1975). In DDLJ, the Non Resident Indian (the NRI), hitherto portrayed in Hindi films as the marginal outsider with affected speech and behavior was redeemed and validated as not just a possible Indian national subject, but possibly one of the best. This film had a storyline highly unusual for its time. Baldev Singh, a Punjabi storeowner in England returned to India to marry off her daughter Simran to a native Indian Punjabi. The daughter had already had a brief romantic encounter with a Punjabi British man named Raj, and was determined to marry him. But Raj, who then followed Simran and her family to India, would marry Simran only if she was ‘given away’ in the ‘traditional Indian way,’ by her father Baldev Singh. Baldev's impression of Raj from a brief encounter was that of an irresponsible individual with no sense of ‘tradition,” someone who was just not ‘Indian enough’. But as the narrative unfolded, Raj proved his ‘worth’ and Indian-ness to Baldev, ‘won’ the bride, and the film ended with the newly-weds returning to England, as Indians as they ever were.
On the 5th of March 2009 I signed a contract with the United Nations Development Programme to be the general evaluator of the Yasuní-ITT Initiative. Yasuní is a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve and a National Park in the Ecuadorian Amazon. Within the park live two indigenous communities who have chosen voluntary isolation, the Tagaere and Taromenane. Below the Park lie the oil fields Isphingo, Tambococha and Tiputini, abbreviated as ITT. Upon learning of just these bare bone facts, I quickly realized that I have been thinking about the economics that justifies the Initiative for almost my entire professional career – long before I knew where Yasuní is and what it will mean for humanity. Drawing on my previous trajectory in the areas of non-equilibrium thermodynamics, biodiversity, and ecocriticism, I offer this short book as the “product” of the consultancy. However, I hope that it will also be an invitation to delve deeper into the arguments referenced in the notes and filmography.
Because climate change is the leading issue of our day, the book is contextualized in the events that transpired from the first of March 2009 to the first of July 2009. These include the G-20 Summit in London, the passage of the “Clean Energy and Security Act of 2009,” the Fifth Summit of the Americas in Trinidad and Tobago, the negotiating session in Bonn of the Fifteenth Conference of the Parties to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, the formal US recognition of greenhouse gases as pollutants, and the passage of the American Clean Energy and Security Act.
A philosopher I admire greatly is Pyrrho of Elis, c. 360–270 BC, arguably the father of scepticism. Can we ever completely trust what we perceive? Since all that we perceive and learn we do through our own senses, is it not an act of foolish arrogance to have so much confidence in the senses? A good philosopher must, therefore, always entertain doubt: so argued Pyrrho. And he tried to live by his philosophy. Diogenes Laertius, the third-century writer famous for having written the world's first scissors-and-paste textbook, records how, when a ship in which Pyrrho was travelling was caught in a big storm, only two creatures aboard were completely at peace—a pig and Pyrrho. Presumably, the former saw no reason to expect calamity from the fact of a stormtossed ship. Indeed, Diogenes Laertius suggests, Pyrrho may even have been a bit envious of the pig, for the pig was not just calm: unlike Pyrrho, it continued to eat.
Given his scepticism, Pyrrho wrote nothing during his ninety long years, for he deemed nothing fit to be immortalized by ink. His philosophy was spread entirely through what he spoke. It is believed that he went to India with Alexander's army and there met some Indian sages who not only believed in writing nothing but had taken a vow against speaking too. Pyrrho came back chastened by the realization that there were others ahead of him in the practice of scepticism.
Joseph Stiglitz's book, Globalization and Its Discontents (2002) defies easy categorization. It is, in part, an academic monograph meant to be read by professional economists and the serious graduate student; but it is also, in part, a diatribe against the injustices of global finance and politics. It is written at times from the ivory tower, contemplating the vast panorama of international economic relations with a researcher's trained but distant vision; but it also reads in places like a rabble-rousing call from an activist who has no time for the niceties of models and regressions. With a title that rhymes with Sigmund Freud's classic monograph, this is also a book where an academic, who has done pioneering work in his field, cuts loose from the binds of his discipline and assesses the world with passion, concern, and also disappointment.
It is the disappointment that makes this such a compelling book. Stiglitz has seen it all. In 1993 he moved out of the groves of academe to join President Clinton's Council of Economic Advisors. From there he went to the World Bank as Senior Vice President and Chief Economist. Popular globally for championing the cause of the disadvantaged and dispossessed and for not holding back on criticizing the US Department of Treasury and the IMF, he became unpopular in the bastions of power in Washington for these very reasons.
As argued by Johnson in chapter 2 of this volume, learning ‘is the basic force behind technical innovation’. Learning is moulded by the operation of institutions reflected in the regularities of behaviour, which can be observed at different levels of aggregation within the economic system. This chapter focuses on the process of learning at the micro level with reference to the relationship between learning and work organisation and argues that the processes of intra-firm learning are contingent upon the type of work organisation in which learning takes place.
In order to evaluate the validity of this argument, one must ask: What are the institutional configurations of the type of work organisation in question, and to which type of learning do they relate in a contingent manner? Exploring the answer to this question is not at trivial matter, neither theoretically, nor empirically. Firstly, the answer cannot be obtained solely on the basis of the conceptual framework developed in part I of this volume, because the question touches upon issues requiring the application of organisation theory. However, this is not a problem, but an opportunity of inter-disciplinary cross-fertilisation, which will penetrate the discussion in this chapter. Secondly, the answer depends, obviously, upon the character of the specific case we are investigating. And thirdly, the question can be posed at several levels of aggregation, and the perspective need not be restricted to an individual firm or an operating unit, but may easily incorporate the most common principles of work organisation within an industry, a production system, or even a national system of innovation.
One of the most important institutional conditions for the process of innovation is the possibility of financing the process. This is not just a question of getting finance cheaper in one country compared to another. Rather there are some national, institutional factors in financial systems, which are important to firms, when they need to obtain finance for their investments in new technology. One might argue that the concept of a national financial system has apparently become less and less relevant due to internationalisation, deregulation and globalisation of financial markets in recent years. However, in spite of these trends there are still differences in the financial systems which are crucial to take into account.
Risky investments in innovations are often initially financed internally. This goes especially for large companies, whereas small and medium sized firms may have less possibilities for self financing. However large companies also increasingly tend to use external finance. Higher R&D costs and shorter life cycles for most high technology product, make technology based firms more dependent on external finance. Underneath this very general statement however there are important differences, not only between the financial strength of firms, but also between countries. In some countries there is a stronger tendency to finance investments internally, and this makes firms less dependent on external finance.
In the following discussion the focus will mainly be on external finance. My main purpose is to show that institutional differences between national financial systems are important to financing innovation.
Nineteen Eighty-Four should be required reading for anyone who votes. Through a tale of totalitarian dystopia, George Orwell shows how the State can distort language for its ever shifting purposes. “Doublespeak” is one of the neologisms of the novel that has entered the vernacular. What exactly is it? According to William Lutz, professor of English:
Doublespeak is a language which pretends to communicate but really doesn't. It is language which makes the bad seem good, the negative appear positive, the unpleasant appear attractive, or at least tolerable. It is language which avoids or shifts responsibility, language which is at variance with its real or purported meaning. It is language which conceals or prevents thought. Doublespeak is the language which does not extend thought but limits it.
Despite the gravity of the phenomenon, humorous examples abound. For example, The Quarterly Journal of Doublespeak reports a vote by the Minnesota Board of Education “…to consider requiring all students do some ‘volunteer work’ as a prerequisite for High School graduation.” We can all laugh. But there is nothing laughable when, say, the US government refers to the drowning of prisoners denied habeas corpus as the “waterboarding” of “detainees.” Doctors were on duty to perform tracheotomies if necessary.
In the spectrum of doublespeak, I am tempted to locate the “market failure” of economic theory somewhere between the “volunteer work” mandated by the Minnesota Board of Education and the “waterboards” authorized in the Bush Administration Torture Memos.
The end of country quotas on textile exports marks one of the most major events of the world economy—one that can cause tectonic shifts in the global economic landscape.
The Multi-Fibre Agreement (MFA), under which these quotas were organized, was put in place in 1974 to protect the textile industries in the US and in Europe. The MFA expired in 1994, but the quotas were continued and managed by the WTO, with the understanding that these would be terminated at the start of 2005.
That has happened now and the winds of change are palpable. The US is expected to lose a large number of jobs in this sector, which has anyway dwindled over the last decades. In 1974 there were 2.4 million workers in the textile sector in the US. By 2000, 40 per cent of these jobs were gone.
What is more worrying is that there are many poor countries that could lose out. Anticipating the end of quotas, exports from El Salvador collapsed by 30 per cent last November. It is expected that the apparel sector of the Dominican Republic will lose up to 40 per cent jobs.
Currently, global textile and apparel exports are just short of $500 billion per annum. To put this in perspective, India's national income is just over $500 billion; Bangladesh's and China's close to $50 billion and $1300 billion.
The becoming cultural of the economic, and the becoming economic of the cultural, has often been identified as one of the features that characterizes what is now widely known as postmodernity. In any case, it has fundamental consequences for the status of mass culture as such.
In the battle between love and fear, fear will always win.
India's socio-economic and political arenas underwent unprecedented transformations over the course of the 1990s. In fact, the national public sphere went through changes that altered the fabric of the nation and state in ways that were radical and irreversible. The most salient and powerful transformations were tethered to two processes: the advent of economic liberalization and the concomitant and meteoric rise of Hindu nationalism. Despite the suddenness with which the two phenomena appeared to annex the affective and political energies of the nation, their genesis was in fact in the making for several decades. For my purposes, however, the break that characterized the 1990s to the present is most crucial to underscore.
In July 1991, after a few decades of tentative pro-liberalization rhetoric and under heavy pressures from international lending agencies such as the International Monetary Fund, the Congress government under Prime Minister P V Narsimha Rao undertook concrete steps to liberalize the Indian economy.
The Kargil War marks the start of a new era for India's international relations. Never before has a third world government been quoted so widely by the world press on the facts and figures of a war in which the government itself was involved. This is partly a consequence of India's democracy, which makes it easy for independent observers to verify the government's pronouncements, thereby making it costly for the government to deviate too much from the truth. But it is also in part a reflection of improving Indo–US relations.
During John F. Kennedy's tenure the US had moved to make India its ally in the region. The compulsions of world politics and a succession of hawkish regimes in the US prevented this from happpening. Now, with the Cold War over, the US concern shifting from war to terrorism, and increasing reports of terrorist groups operating out of Pakistan, America's new India tilt is not surprising. This presents an opportunity for India not just in regional politics, but in shaping a more dynamic economy.
Kargil also shows us that conventional wars between India and Pakistan will never be the same again. The knowledge that both countries possess the nuclear bomb has changed the rules of the game. One reason why India could not retaliate with more air power across the Line of Control (which would mean smaller casualties) was the fear that Pakistan would respond with a nuclear attack.
Throughout history, ‘wars of religion’ have served to obscure the economic and strategic interests behind the conquest and invasion of foreign lands. ‘Wars of religion’ were invariably fought to secure control over trading routes and natural resources. Islam has always remained in the eyes of the West as a totally strange culture. Similarly, the ‘war on terrorism’ purports to defend the American homeland and protect the ‘civilized world’. But, in fact, it attempts to secure control and corporate ownership over the region's extensive oil wealth, while also bringing it under the helm of the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank (Michel Chossoudovsky 2007).
Arabs themselves have perpetuated the idea of unilateral cultural import. Such preserved original identity can only exist within an impermeable cultural environment that is cut off from foreign influences – an idea that still exits among Arabs today and can explain many of the phobias related to globalization. This complicated situation has caused two parallel wars to be going on in the Middle East.
One is the military conflict and the other is the media mobilization affair. While the media covers falling bombs and fleeing civilians and from time to time puts a human face on the agony of a war so far directed mostly at civilians, it rarely covers its own reporting with anything like a self-critical eye.