THE SECOND WORLD
Empires and Influence in the New Global Order
By Parag Khanna
Illustrated. 466 pages. Random House. $29.
harga sebelum ongkos kirim rp. 89,000
In the last few years, traditional collaboration—in a meeting room, a conference call, even a convention center—has been superceded by collaborations on an astronomical scale.
Today, encyclopedias, jetliners, operating systems, mutual funds, and many other items are being created by teams numbering in the thousands or even millions. While some leaders fear the heaving growth of these massive online communities, Wikinomics proves this fear is folly. Smart firms can harness collective capability and genius to spur innovation, growth, and success.
A brilliant primer on one of the most profound changes of our time, Wikinomics challenges our most deeply-rooted assumptions about business and will prove indispensable to anyone who wants to understand the key forces driving competitiveness in the twenty-first century.
Based on a $9 million research project led by bestselling author Don Tapscott, Wikinomics shows how the masses of people can participate in the economy like never before. They are creating TV news stories, sequencing the human genome, remixing their favorite music, designing software, finding a cure for disease, editing school texts, inventing new cosmetics, and even building motorcycles.
There are dozens of books, articles and entire consulting firms that offer a formula for “permanent corporate greatness” (or should it just be “permanence”?) Adam Hartung distinguishes himself from the pack in three significant ways. One, he looks at non-technology companies and industries as well. He relates many examples from traditional industries e.g. Dow, Pizza Hut and even Singer (of sewing machine fame!), in addition to the more familiar examples from tech companies like IBM, Microsoft, Xerox etc.
Second, he devotes fully half the book to “if corporate mortality is a reality, what can you do about it?” He details out a series of actions that leaders can take, and the pitfalls associated with each.
Third, he doesn’t shy away from saying that this is not easy, it can take multiple years, and your plans may very well fail. To become a “Phoenix Principle Organization” requires more than a change of strategy, or even a change of mindset. There are some hard actions to be taken, including changing the behaviors, structures and even cost relationships. Anyone who has ever tried to convince a senior executive to shut down a multi-million dollar business will understand how hard this is (I have some scars from one such battle).
There are several other things in the book that I heartily agree with - such as the fact that sports analogies are at best simplistic and most likely very inaccurate. Hartung also takes issue with prominent thinkers (such as Collins, Hamel, Prahald etc) who advocate focus and core competence.
All in all, a very useful read for senior executives. If you haven’t run a business - however small - or had significant interactions with those
Parag Khanna
THE SECOND WORLD
Empires and Influence in the New Global Order
By Parag Khanna
Illustrated. 466 pages. Random House. $29.
Mr. Khanna is the director of the Global Governance Initiative at the New America Foundation, a public policy institute. He strides the world in seven-league boots, armed with a powerful thesis: in the postcolonial, post-cold-war era, three superpowers have emerged with a ravenous appetite for energy and natural resources. Restlessly, they look to the second-tier economies of Latin America, the former Soviet bloc, the Middle East and Asia for partners or patsies. This argument was laid out recently in The New York Times Magazine in an excerpt it published from the book.
No shots will be fired. Instead the three imperial rivals will woo and coerce, relying on distinct styles. The United States offers military protection, along with the promise of democracy and human rights. The European Union dangles the prospect of membership in, or affiliation with, the world’s most successful economic club, provided that applicants undertake specific reforms. China talks trade, investment and infrastructure projects, with no annoying demands for political reform in its would-be client states.
“To a large extent, the future of the second world hinges on how it relates to the three superpowers,” Mr. Khanna writes, “and the future of the superpowers depends on how they manage the second world.”
Like a geopolitical tour guide, he moves at lightning speed across the scattered countries of the second world to assess the prospects of, say, Russia or Malaysia, and to see how the superpowers are faring in their courtship rituals.
Russia will be much smaller, its dwindling population “spread so thinly across a territory so vast that it no longer even makes demographic sense as a country.” The allure of European Union membership has already drawn Eastern Europe into the union’s orbit, while China controls vast swaths of Central Asia, almost by default.
Malaysia’s future looks bright. Playing a shrewd second-world game, it cultivates good relations with both the United States and China (just as elusive Kazahkstan has made sure that its oil pipelines run north, south, east and west), while channeling oil revenues into diversifying its economy and building its infrastructure.
Malaysia makes a stark contrast to Indonesia, “a sprawling, waterborne golf course in which a mix of foreign companies and countries claim ownership of different holes,” Mr. Khanna writes. He has a knack for reducing a country to a phrase. Taiwan is “a stateless economic node,” with a relationship to China he describes as “mutual colonization.”
“The Second World” is rewarding simply as a primer on contemporary geopolitics. Anyone curious about the lay of the land in Algeria or Tajikistan can get answers, and a dash of local color, in Mr. Khanna’s succinct chapters, which envelop the reader in a whirlwind of facts and figures, some eye-opening, others merely perplexing.
“Elderly couples learn to tango at night by the illuminated Ming-era city walls,” Mr. Khanna observes of Beijing.
This is fascinating, or perhaps not. Like Arthur Frommer with an economics degree, Mr. Khanna loves to set a scene in 10 words or fewer, getting a few carts carrying bales of mint into the picture frame as he strolls through a Moroccan medina. He seasons the narrative with brief quotations from anonymous taxi drivers, journalists and government officials, each allowed one culturally relevant action, like the engineering student who comments on Egypt’s leadership crisis “while devouring a plate of kebabs.”
Mr. Khanna is not averse to the bland “time will tell” summation either, and on occasion the crystal ball becomes cloudy. “It is hard to overestimate the fluidity of the early-21st-century landscape,” Mr. Khanna writes sagely.harga sebelum ongkos kirim: rp 206,500
This extraordinary book explains the engine that has catapulted the Internet from backwater to ubiquity—and reveals that it is sputtering precisely because of its runaway success. With the unwitting help of its users, the generative Internet is on a path to a lockdown, ending its cycle of innovation—and facilitating unsettling new kinds of control.
IPods, iPhones, Xboxes, and TiVos represent the first wave of Internet-centered products that can’t be easily modified by anyone except their vendors or selected partners. These “tethered appliances” have already been used in remarkable but little-known ways: car GPS systems have been reconfigured at the demand of law enforcement to eavesdrop on the occupants at all times, and digital video recorders have been ordered to self-destruct thanks to a lawsuit against the manufacturer thousands of miles away. New Web 2.0 platforms like Google mash-ups and Facebook are rightly touted—but their applications can be similarly monitored and eliminated from a central source. As tethered appliances and applications eclipse the PC, the very nature of the Internet—its “generativity,” or innovative character—is at risk.
The Internet’s current trajectory is one of lost opportunity. Its salvation, Zittrain argues, lies in the hands of its millions of users. Drawing on generative technologies like Wikipedia that have so far survived their own successes, this book shows how to develop new technologies and social structures that allow users to work creatively and collaboratively, participate in solutions, and become true “netizens.”
Harga sebelum ongkos kirim: rp. 176,000
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2008/oct/25/politics1
At a time when a crisis is unfolding that will deflate American power irreversibly, the next US administration could be elected on the back of voters for whom denying women abortion choice and promoting creationism in schools are more important than the state of the world at large. To be sure, the financial crisis may allow American voters to overcome the drag of racism and elect Obama, despite his obvious intellectual superiority. But whatever the outcome, the leadership of the world's largest liberal democracy is not going to be decided by anything like rational argument, or by concern for problems that lie beyond America's shores.

The upcoming American election kept coming to mind as I read Chris Patten's What Next?. In many ways this is an extremely impressive book. It is a very long time since a leading British politician produced anything so ambitious, or as well written. The subject is nothing less than the global condition at the start of this century. Nuclear proliferation, global warming, oil production and the energy crisis, world poverty and the "bottom billion", the illegal drugs trade, immigration and human trafficking and the spread of epidemic diseases are all examined, with asides on Russia, China and practically every important development in world history since the Renaissance.
Patten is rightly scornful of some aspects of current political discourse: "You do not need to be a grammarian," he writes, "to know that you do not fight wars against common nouns but against personal ones. You fight a war against this or that country or enemy. Wars on drugs, wars on poverty, wars on waste - all these things are idle if grandiose ways of describing doomed political ventures." It is a crucial point, elegantly stated. But whoever wins the presidential election, the next administration is sure to want to ramp up America's bungling "war on terror", most likely by taking the failed Afghan campaign into Pakistan. Maybe the war on terror will simply implode, along with the American financial system. Certainly, the vast levels of military
expenditure of the past 20 years cannot be sustained. But it is hard to see the US, which alone among the countries engaged in Afghanistan still believes the war can be won, quietly departing the scene. A political solution is nowhere on the agenda. Even Obama has urged that US forces hunt down the Taliban by following them into Pakistan. If this happens America will have mired itself and the world in another intractable conflict, this time in an increasingly unstable state that is also nuclear.
Throughout his conspectus of global issues Patten is supremely confident that he knows what needs to be done. Despite occasional swipes at recent policies, What Next? is conventional wisdom of the most elevated kind and, like all versions of the genre, it avoids unmentionable realities. For example, while he discusses population growth in passing on several occasions - mostly in conjunction with a dismissive reference to Thomas Malthus - Patten at no point confronts the vast problems posed by the fact that human numbers will rise by around another 50% over the next half-century. Informing the reader that in the second millennium "the world's population increased 22-fold, while global domestic product went up 13 times as fast," he shows no hint of doubt that, as long as globalisation continues, this trend will also continue.
In failing to consider the possibility that there may be a human population problem Patten has plenty of company. He is at one with Marx, Hayek, Mao, the Pope, the Bush administration and many development economists. But is this near-universal denial of natural limits on human expansion well-founded? Or is it no more than a silly orthodoxy, like the faith of an earlier generation of bien pensants that central planning would create an economy of abundance?
An integral part of conventional wisdom is the conviction that all reasonable people subscribe to it, and this faith lies at the heart of Patten's view of the world. Stung by a rightwing commentator who, in response to his rather modest criticisms of the Iraq war, described him as a "liberal internationalist", Patten writes: "To my mind there is nothing else for a sensible person to be". Evidently, Patten thinks the same is true of most of the opinions aired in the book. At times - in his analysis of the Iraq war, for example - he is plainly right. What is questionable is his assumption that the thinking that led to the Iraq war will prove to be an aberration.
Patten begins What Next? by citing approvingly Margaret Thatcher's remark at her last cabinet meeting, "It's a funny old world." By the end of the book, however, it is clear that he sees the past eight years as a blip on the screen of history. Along with liberals across the world, he is confident that, with a new incumbent in the White House, what could be considered normal service will be resumed. "To live in a better world," he writes, "requires a more democratic citizenry, a sentiment inherent in Senator Obama's presidential campaign oratory." But what if the debacle on Wall Street leaves America fear-ridden, resentful and more stridently fundamentalist - whoever becomes president? It looks as if the future of the world is going to be funnier than Patten imagines.
http://www.thomaslfriedman.com/bookshelf/hot-flat-and-crowded
Thomas L. Friedman's no. 1 bestseller The World Is Flat has helped millions of readers to see globalization in a new way. Now Friedman brings a fresh outlook to the crises of destabilizing climate change and rising competition for energy—both of which could poison our world if we do not act quickly and collectively. His argument speaks to all of us who are concerned about the state of America in the global future.
Friedman proposes that an ambitious national strategy—which he calls "Geo-Greenism"—is not only what we need to save the planet from overheating; it is what we need to make America healthier, richer, more innovative, more productive, and more secure.
As in The World Is Flat, he explains a new era—the Energy-Climate era—through an illuminating account of recent events. He shows how 9/11, Hurricane Katrina, and the flattening of the world by the Internet (which brought 3 billion new consumers onto the world stage) have combined to bring climate and energy issues to Main Street. But they have not gone very far down Main Street; the much-touted "green revolution" has hardly begun. With all that in mind, Friedman sets out the clean-technology breakthroughs we, and the world, will need; he shows that the ET (Energy Technology) revolution will be both transformative and disruptive; and he explains why America must lead this revolution—with the first Green President and a Green New Deal, spurred by the Greenest Generation.
Hot, Flat, and Crowded is classic Thomas L. Friedman—fearless, incisive, forward-looking, and rich in surprising common sense about the world we live in today.
Harga Sebelum Ongkos Kirim: rp. 279,500
http://search.barnesandnoble.com/The-Partnership/Charles-D-Ellis/e/9781594201899
The inside story of one of the world's most powerful financial Institutions
Now with a new foreword and final chapter, The Partnership chronicles the most important periods in Goldman Sachs's history and the individuals who built one of the world's largest investment banks. Charles D. Ellis, who worked as a strategy consultant to Goldman Sachs for more than thirty years, reveals the secrets behind the firm's continued success through many life-threatening changes. Disgraced and nearly destroyed in 1929, Goldman Sachs limped along as a break-even operation through the Depression and WWII. But with only one special service and one improbable banker, it began the stage-by-stage rise that took the firm to global leadership, even in the face of the world-wide credit crisis.
In this history of investment bank Goldman Sachs, Ellis (Winning the Loser's Game) covers the same ground as Lisa Endlich's Goldman Sachs: The Culture of Success-with notable stylistic differences. From Marcus Goldman's purchase of his first commercial paper in 1869 to the firm's current success, Ellis's account is lively and engaging where Endlich's is accurate but dry. Ellis sheds light on events through dialogue and detailed descriptions of people's thoughts and feelings, embellishments that the author terms "recreations" in his epilogue. The effect of infusing such narrative techniques into the history of Goldman Sachs is entertaining, but it pushes the envelope of nonfiction, especially since the author appears to have interviewed only former partners of the firm. More damagingly, Ellis fails to report much about actual business, and attempts to do so-such as a chapter on Rockefeller Center financing-require lengthy digressions and are incomprehensible due to the complexities of the transactions. Without links to business, boardroom conflicts take on the air of petty squabbles. More a composite memoir of senior Goldman partners than a traditional history, this book will satisfy readers curious about the philosophies and personalities of the firm.
In 1944 a draft board in downtown Manhattan rejected Alan Greenspan, then a recent high school graduate, for military service because he had a spot on his lung that looked like it might be tuberculosis. So Mr. Greenspan, suddenly without a plan for the future, auditioned to play clarinet for the trumpeter Henry Jerome’s traveling big band.
Alan Greenspan
By
Illustrated. 531 pages. The Penguin Press. $35.
He got the job, but he was never a star. He was a sideman rather than a soloist. Among his fellow musicians he became known as the band’s resident intellectual, the clarinetist who could also fill out his bandmates’ income tax forms for them. Between sets, when they disappeared into the green room — “which would quickly fill with the smell of tobacco and pot,” Mr. Greenspan recalls — he read books about business.
The pattern repeated itself, albeit in a more sober form, after the war ended and he began studying economics at New York University. Many of his classmates were swept up by grand questions relating to the new economic order, but Mr. Greenspan was more interested in numbers and equations. “I still had the sideman psychology,” he writes in his memoir, “The Age of Turbulence.” “I preferred to focus on technical challenges and did not have a macro view.”
His macro view wouldn’t come until the 1950s, when his first wife introduced him to Ayn Rand’s New York salon. Rand — whom he calls “quite plain to look at” but “a stabilizing force in my life” — pushed him to think beyond mathematics and helped turn him into a libertarian.
By the time President Ronald Reagan named Mr. Greenspan to run the Federal Reserve in 1987, he had already a lived a full, fascinating, Zelig-like life. For years he was the quietly influential man off to the side. With his book he finally lets us know what he was thinking.
For a memoir from such a high-profile figure, it is surprisingly frank. Large parts of the book are downright entertaining. Its biggest failing — the reason it isn’t a great memoir — is Mr. Greenspan’s reluctance to be as forthright and penetrating about himself as he is about others.
Born in 1926, he was raised in Washington Heights, the only son of parents who soon divorced. He attended George Washington High School a few years behind Henry Kissinger (and a few decades before the baseball stars Rod Carew and Manny Ramirez, a historical oddity that Mr. Greenspan, who still remembers Joe DiMaggio’s 1936 batting average, probably appreciates). Before joining the Jerome big band, he played in the same informal ensemble as Stan Getz. At Columbia University, Arthur Burns, himself a future chairman of the Fed, became Mr. Greenspan’s graduate-school adviser.
Like his father, a stockbroker, Mr. Greenspan eventually made his way to Wall Street, where he ran a consulting business that forecast the economy. He was doing quite nicely there when Martin Anderson, another Rand acolyte, asked if Mr. Greenspan wanted to join Richard M. Nixon’s 1968 presidential campaign.
Except for Jimmy Carter, Mr. Greenspan has worked with every president since 1969, and the book offers a fairly blunt critique of each. Gerald Ford, who’s portrayed as an unusually decent politician, clearly ranks first. “He always understood what he knew and what he didn’t know,” Mr. Greenspan writes.
Despite their ideological differences, Bill Clinton seems to place second, thanks to his “consistent, disciplined focus on long-term economic growth.” At one point, with urging from Newt Gingrich, the House speaker, Mr. Greenspan called Rush Limbaugh to argue for the Clinton administration’s Mexican loan guarantees. Mr. Greenspan even shares some of the credit for his signature insight — recognizing early on that technology was transforming the economy — with Mr. Clinton.
Nixon, Reagan and George H. W. Bush each receives a mix of praise and criticism. Only the current President Bush goes without receiving credit for a single significant accomplishment.
“The Age of Turbulence” is really two books, one of which I suspect Mr. Greenspan preferred writing and one of which he understood his audience would prefer reading. The second half — the typically Greenspan half — is a series of meditations on economic issues, like income inequality and the rise of China.
The first 250-odd pages are a standard autobiography, and Mr. Greenspan confesses in the acknowledgments that learning to write in the first person was a struggle. For all of the book’s candor, this is a struggle he does not quite win. This first half of the book is utterly readable, but it lacks a narrative core. It’s telling that the book opens on Sept. 11, 2001, with Mr. Greenspan on a plane flying home from Switzerland that gets rerouted. This is supposed to serve as drama.
Mr. Greenspan also doesn’t really let readers inside his life. He laments that Nixon’s televised announcement of price controls in 1971 pre-empted “Bonanza” — “a show I loved to watch” — and he calls his wife, Andrea Mitchell, “very beautiful.” But he does not easily admit error. He does not even confess to having his own ambitions. He seems to want people to believe that he accepted his fantastic ascent with reluctance.
Yet, perhaps accidentally, he has still managed to create a lasting image of himself. He never seems happier than when poring over economic indicators that allow him to predict everything from the 1958 steel recession to the 1990s boom. “My early training was to immerse myself in extensive detail in the workings of some small part of the world and to infer from that detail the way that segment of the world behaves. That is the process I have applied throughout my career,” he writes.
He lacks the same sure footing when confronting the great political issues, and even the economic ones, of the last few decades. He provided the critically influential voice in support of the current administration’s tax cuts, for instance, but he now disowns them. He worries that the backlash to globalization could create a “truly serious economic crisis,” but his proposed remedies — like higher pay for math teachers — don’t seem up to the task.
Despite Rand’s tutoring he never quite escapes the sideman’s psychology. Now, there should be no shame in that. Mr. Greenspan may have had a better feel for the ups and downs of the postwar American economy than anyone else, and he put his talents to good use as a central banker. The question that lingers is why the rest of us allowed him to be treated as something much more.