In a recent blog post, my Forrester colleague Navi Radjou argues that India must declare “interderdependence.” To sustain continued tech innovation and economic growth, India needs to connect with the West, not compete with it.
Here’s the comment I left on Navi's blog:
Navi, great piece here. I think there is an interesting parallel to China, which like India is a “BRIC” country going through a currently-unfolding “economic miracle.” In China’s case, the story of interdependence factors in strongly -- as a key proximate driver of China’s oft-misunderstood ascendancy as an economic powerhouse.
For over a decade, there has been an implicit “Grand Bargain” between the West (especially the US) and China—something of a gentleman’s-agreement-writ-large. It started in the 1980s when Deng Xiaoping’s economic reforms began to transform China internally. Along the way, China began to require Western investment money and technology transfer to successfully bootstrap out of the ashes of an incredibly turbulent 20th century marked by civil war and widespread social unrest. At the same time, the US needed something that complemented China’s needs almost hand-in-glove. Essentially, the US economy needed both cheaper labor and new product “growth markets” to avoid eating its own tail. And so evolved a marvelous case of broad macroeconomic interdependence -- in the 1990s, consumer prices dropped in the US, the economy soared and wealth grew, while in China investment and trade surplus increased, the economy soared, and wealth grew. It was a very strong win-win for both countries.
Now, however, times have changed. China’s wages are rising (as they should when the economy soars and wealth grows) and the US is having trouble sustaining indefinitely low prices (which is also to be expected). Thus, the nature of US-China interdependence is morphing, which also is to be expected: to turn an old idiom on its head, “the more things stay the same, the more they change.”
For China-US interdependence, I think the trick will be whether both sides can adapt to the reality of these changing circumstances. This will be tricky to say the least, and importantly, it will be very challenging for leaders in both countries. In the US, there are longstanding public outcries against shoddy products (think Mattel), lost jobs overseas, and generally a newly-imagined form of “Red Scare.” In China, there is growing nationalism in the population, and although pride in one’s country is wonderful, Americans know all too well what happens when pride turns into a dangerously arrogant sense of entitlement.
For both countries, these attitudes were once useful and understandable. However, today they are increasingly quaint, and more to the point they are becoming actively maladaptive to achieving sustained success and prosperity in the two countries. Unfortunately, public opinion can be very strong and persistent. A mother whose child was poisoned by a China-manufactured doll is not likely to “see the forest for the trees,” nor is the Chinese factory worker who slaved for 18-hour days only to be blamed for shoddy products purchased cheaply by rich American consumers. Unfortunately, when the issues get personal, reason and forbearance can vanish swiftly and sometimes irreversibly.
My feeling is that if both the US and China as societies can adapt to these changing times, the interdependence will deepen and great things will happen for the people in both countries. However, if Americans react defensively, and/or China adopts too much braggadocio in its geopolitics, then we’re headed for tumult rather than prosperity. It may take two to tango, but it only takes one to start a fight.
I’m eager to read more about the US-India story in your subsequent posts -- I imagine it’s equally fascinating and important as the US-China story.
A fascinating conversation developed this past Saturday. I was out eating Indian brunch with college blockmates, catching up with each other according to our group's long-established tradition. We got to talking about the Olympics, and a very interesting thought experiment took shape.
It started when “Ken” (real name protected for privacy) posed the question: “Could I beat Michael Phelps in a race — in which he’s swimming and I’m running?” To which “Steve” responded: “I’ll give you two-to-one odds that you would beat him. Wanna put up $5 against my $10?”
Although they didn’t shake on the wager, “Steve” decided to calculate the numbers the next day. It turns out that, at his fastest, Michael Phelps can swim at slightly less than 4 miles per hour — which is merely a brisk walking pace for most of us. Therefore, if he’s allowed to run rather than swim, “Ken” would easily win a race against Michael Phelps’ freestyle.
“Ken” responded by taking the thought experiment one step further. And this is where it gets really interesting: He proposed an entirely new competitive format for the Olympic Games.
It works like this: Although each competing nation can select its own athletes to compete in the Games, the home country cannot select the specific events in which its athletes will compete — a task reserved for the other competing nations. In other words, when the athletes arrive at the Olympic Village, the countries all get together and decide which athletes will represent each country in each event. So, each nation has a voice in the events assigned to a particular athlete...except for the athlete's home country, which must await the decision of its competitors.
Breaking it down, it quickly becomes clear that the competitive dynamics of the Olympics would change dramatically. Countries would approach training and recruiting in a new way; different kinds of athletes might make the team; and so forth. Suddenly, it’s possible that all of the top ten sprinters in the US would make the team; and that none of the top contenders in other events would qualify. Athletes who train for very narrow and specific skills (such as archery or equestrian) would never make the team — their athletic skills are not transferable enough. Only athletes who are generally athletic — well-rounded in strength, balance, speed, and endurance — would be suitable, because they would have the ability to compete well in a wide variety of events. Athletes would train to eliminate weaknesses, rather than to build freakish and unbalanced strengths.
This setup would accomplish several worthwhile goals. First and most important, it would encourage athletes to develop their bodies in a well-rounded manner, rather than developing narrow skills suited only for a specific event. It would thus keep athletes healthier in most cases — for instance, gymnasts wouldn’t develop the stress fractures that can result from intensive training in the repetitive motions needed only for gymnastics.
Second, it would make the Olympics more freely competitive, less predictable, and therefore much more interesting. Think about it: Almost everyone knew that Michael Phelps would sweep the swimming medals in Beijing. But imagine how the Games in London 2012 would be if Michael Phelps had to instead compete in the 110m hurdles…against one of the world’s best pole vaulters. Or, maybe he would compete against his archrival, but in archery, not swimming. And best of all, no one would know which athletes would compete in which events until the they had all arrived in the Olympic Village and have received their competition assignments.
The effect would be a much greater sense of open competition at the Olympics, rather than a sense that many of the results were pre-ordained. This applies both to individuals and to countries. Regarding countries, for instance, everyone knew beforehand that China and the US would lead the final medals tally. However, if in London 2012 a small part of the competitive interest lies in chess-like strategy — i.e., which athletes to assign to which events for the other nations — then there’s a much greater element of uncertainty. No one knows what might happen until the whole spectacle actually plays out in real-time.
This would bring an added element of political intrigue and gossip that has been completely (and very boringly) missing from the modern Olympics thus far. Rather than the cloying and mawkish nature of today’s TV coverage, there would be a real sense of suspense at the Games. Nations might integrate their Olympic training programs more meaningfully into geopolitical strategy (something which already happened in the Cold War, and again with China’s opening ceremony...but not quite as seriously as it could in this new format). The competition — both between individuals and the countries they represent — could become both much more interesting and significantly more fun. As a beneficial byproduct, it might also provide a bigger cultural incentive for Americans to stop being so damn lazy and actually exercise regularly.
On the other hand, there are some practical drawbacks to this new format. Consider the marketing campaigns that lurk behind the Games: With the new format, athletes might lose the potential to parlay their athletic skills into sustainable careers. From a marketing perspective, it’s hard to sponsor someone if you don’t know the events in which they will compete. Imagine Kobe Bryant posing on billboards without a basketball. Or, imagine Kobe Bryant posing not just with a basketball, but also with a badminton racquet, swimming goggles, and a javelin. The business of the Olympics has already evolved to fully support the current format of the Games; changing this format would be a wrenching and potentially devastating shift for athletes, sports fans, and business interests alike.
Further, it would be tricky to set the parameters correctly for the new format. With 200-odd countries competing in the Games, how would these countries agree on which event to assign to each athlete? The likely outcome would be an operating environment with more squabbles, deadlocks, and fillibusters than even the US Senate or the UN Security Council could produce. And even if perfect agreement existed among the nations regarding athlete assignments, simply going through the assignment process for thousands of athletes would take a very long time. It would also create significant additional bureaucratic overhead.
Also, many of today’s Olympic sports are different enough to be essentially incompatible with each other. For instance, if an athlete trains to be a good weightlifter, he/she will probably be a slower sprinter, and certainly a worse pole-vaulter. The small bodies that are best for gymnastics will never work well for the high jump or the hurdles. And then there’s table tennis. How could you train your reflexes for table tennis without sacrificing skills in, well, almost every other event?
Possible solution to these concerns would involve carefully designing the most suitable structural details for the new Games format.
For example, to solve the administrative complexities, perhaps each country could nominate two delegates to serve on an “athletic steering committee” that could debate and then assign each athlete to specific events. Perhaps, you could even structure the system such that each region of the world (or some other pre-determined system for assigning nations into blocs) nominates two delegates — thus serving two simultaneous goals of 1) keeping the steering committee’s size at a practical level; 2) incenting different nations to work together in alliances of competitive strategy. Of course, this could quickly lead to serious geopolitical bickering — perhaps the first military war started over the rules of an athletic competition?
To solve the problem of athletic incompatibility among different events, the IOC could group them into functional categories based on broad skill sets. For instance, swimming and much of track & field could go together in the “speed” category. Weightlifting, discus throw, javelin, etc. could go into the “strength” category. Judo, boxing, taekwondo, etc. could go into the “martial arts” category. Equestrian and water polo events could be in the “riding” category. And gymnastics, diving, etc. into the “balance and coordination” category.
Ultimately, in the capitalist spirit of competition, I’d place my bets along the lines of Clayton Christensen. The Olympic Games will likely never morph (or be forced to morph) into this new format. Instead, the format would find a home with an upstart challenger to the Olympic Games’ monopoly with nothing to lose (e.g., the Pan-Am Games).
To get the ball rolling, “Ken,” “Steve,” and I have made a decision. Next month, we’ll hold our first “Ken-athlon,” featuring our favorite three sports: frisbee golf, rock climbing, and beer die (don’t ask). We each get to bring three friends as “ringers” to compete for our respective “teams.” Then, on game-day, we each get to choose which “ringers” from the other two teams will compete in each event.
I’ll let you know how it goes. And perhaps I will also explain why some thought experiments are better left as just thoughts and experiments, and nothing more.
Several questions are worth addressing in my first blog post. They are probably questions that every new blogger ponders: "Why have I started blogging? What’s my purpose? And why now?"
For quite awhile, I was a holdout, resistant to joining the fray. Although still not uniformly thrilled to join the blogger ranks, I have been reconsidering my resistance. In my first post, it’s worth reflecting on this change of heart.
Privacy — “pro.” As a (new) blogger, privacy and personal security do not worry me much. In fact, if anything, they’re tipping me to embrace blogging — I am rather exhibitionist by nature. Most days I make a conscious effort to keep my mouth shut, and to avoid dominating conversations unfairly. My main difficulties around privacy are when I fail to keep my own personal affairs private, even when doing so is in my best interests.
Information overload — strongly “con.” Rather than privacy, the primary reservation about blogging has been my desire to avoid the syndrome of "information overload" in my life. I always pictured blogging as the cause of neurotic habits cropping up in my life such as: checking the news obsessively; caring far too passionately about the smallest of trivialities; and perhaps shunning my flesh-and-bones friends for the addictive comfort of a blinking laptop screen. Dedicated blogging might also interfere with my most cherished physical-world hobbies: ski mountaineering, rock/ice climbing, travel to faraway places, contemplative reading, and cooking/entertaining.
Triviality — “con.” Vast amounts of crap float around the Internet, and I have no desire to add to the trash pile. All too often, the blogosphere feels to me like thousands of people each trying to shout louder than the others. If, by blogging, I must reduce my thoughts to the trivial, pithy, desperate, or otherwise shabby, then I’ll quit. This is a promise, both to you and to myself. For blogging to be worthwhile, I need people to actually read what I write. But if my writing doesn't reflect me or my real opinions, then the joke's on me, no matter how popular the blog becomes.
Opportunity — strongly “pro.” In the end, the promise of opportunity has finally convinced me to start blogging. If the thought-garbage littering the Internet makes me feel adrift and isolated from others, then failing to make things better makes me feel irrelevant and useless. Lately, it’s felt difficult for me to justify staying on the sidelines. Blogging is clearly the best way to engage in serious discourse in today’s Digital Age. For better or worse, it’s high time that I emerge from the cave, feel the warm sun on my back, and breathe fresh air into my lungs.
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