This article focuses on the nineteenth-century fertilizer manufacturer the Pacific Guano Company, and seeks to understand how it adapted its production in response to the collapse of the Maine menhaden fishery in 1879. This collapse devastated the national market for fish scrap, the firm’s primary input. The company managed to maintain relatively consistent fertilizer output throughout this period of uncertainty by embracing new materials and by actively seeking more stable sources of these novel ingredients. Outwardly, the company gave no indications that it was dealing with supply chain disruption, even though it was, at the same time, rapidly rewriting the recipes for its core products. This disconnect demonstrates how generic categories of nature can help a firm adapt to a crisis and how an environmental change as significant as a fishery collapse can be hidden from the public.

This article uses a prosopographical methodology and new dataset of 1,558 CEOs from Britain’s largest public companies between 1900 and 2009 to analyze how the role, social background, and career pathways of corporate leaders changed. We have four main findings. First, the designation of CEO only prevailed in the 1990s. Second, the proportion of socially elite CEOs was highest before 1940, but they were not dominant. Third, most CEOs did not have a degree before the 1980s, or professional qualification until the 1990s. Fourth, liberal market reforms in the 1980s were associated with an increase in the likelihood of CEO dismissal by a factor of three.

The repeated proliferation of restraints to competition should not overshadow the agency of downstream firms when confronted with the ability of cartels to challenge the established innovation strategies of their consumers. This article explores the relations between Renault and the aluminium cartels during the first half of the twentieth century, in peace and war. Strategies were similar on both sides: the creation and maintenance of a balance of power, compromise, and the reopening of competition. Yet, when the cartel set up an automotive department and then rallied to the idea of a people’s car, it attracted the interest of broader stakeholders—engineers, other suppliers, the government, and even trade unions—but failed to persuade carmakers. Large industrial consumers can limit the impact of cartels, and destabilize them, by resorting to vertical integration. However, their underlying aim is not necessarily to destroy the cartel but rather to obtain better terms for their own business. Ultimately, their market power enables them to achieve relative stability. Who derives the main benefits from these compromises, both vertically and horizontally, as they sometimes limit or extend the scope of action of both parties?

This article challenges the prevailing narrative surrounding the Japanese manufacturing industry in the post-World War II era, which predominantly centers on large corporations and male engineers. It sheds light on the vital role played by Japanese housewives in shaping product innovation. It argues that the exclusion of consumers, particularly women, from existing industrial models carries a gendered dimension. By presenting Japanese housewives as active stakeholders who defy stereotypes and enhance their lives by expressing their opinions, we aim to offer a fresh perspective on innovation and product development. The article specifically focuses on the electric appliance industry and draws upon a diverse range of sources, including women’s magazines and corporate archives, to uncover the hidden aspects of gender within the Japanese economic miracle. It shows that housewives have played an active role in product innovation and that women’s magazines have made this possible by acting as intermediaries between women and companies.

This paper examines the transformation of Venetian commerce across the twelfth century, arguing that the strategies of Venetian merchants are best described using two distinct models. One was locally integrated and geographically decentralized, typical of merchants who settled abroad and became part of local societies, sometimes retaining few clear links to Venice. The other was far more centralized, characterized by short-term, profit-focused ventures originating in Venice that precluded deep entanglements in foreign economies. Both models were facilitated by the unstructured nature of Venetian overseas administration, which accommodated a degree of autonomy for expatriates while providing the infrastructure necessary for transient commerce. The decline of the integrated model began with the imperial sanctions of 1171 and culminated with the Fourth Crusade (1202–1204), after which the centralized model came to dominate. The subsequent importance of the “sedentary merchant” in Venetian trade was shaped as much by political as by economic factors.

The provision of pensions for Civil Servants and other employees in public office, such as the police, as well as in large private businesses, became more widespread in the second half of the nineteenth century. Such pensions, and other non-pay benefits, including sick pay, not only helped with recruitment but also provided a means of managing the retirement of workers who were deemed to be incapable of performing their roles. The rules governing eligibility to receive a pension in the Metropolitan Police in London were closely linked to the certification of poor health. Police doctors restricted the certification of sickness as a reason for retirement because it impacted the size of the force, resulted in the loss of more experienced men, and added to the cost of the pension fund. This strategy generated conflict with the workforce, resulting in industrial unrest. Piecemeal reforms failed to address workers’ concerns until 1890, when the rights to receive a pension were improved. These reforms, rather than stricter vigilance by police doctors, were an effective way of retaining experienced officers in the police force.

This study analyzes the long-term power of mercantilist firms and brands in industries characterized by high uncertainty and asset specificity. It contrasts the reputation-building and protection strategies employed in two similar industries in Portugal in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries; namely, those of Madeira and Port wine. The Portuguese crown created a collective brand for Port in 1756, the first regional appellation in the world. Madeira wine only received similar protection in the late twentieth century. This study argues that the Madeira wine industry relied on a different type of mercantilist proto-brand—a diffuse and multi-faceted “global” umbrella brand—of the British East India Company, which during its heyday more than rivaled the power of the Portuguese state as a product certifier and endorser.

This article offers a new interpretation of the coming of state ownership in aluminium-related big businesses in Norway. It shows that the Norwegian aluminium business of the late 1930s and the 1940s was undertaken by a Scandinavian business elite fully capable of filling capital requirements after the war. This elite had, however, entangled itself in the German war effort in Norway mainly by supporting the building of new aluminium plants under the German occupiers’ control. This left it morally vulnerable to the increasing emphasis during the war on aluminium as a strategic metal. The Allied war effort—especially evident in US attitudes—had come to see the cartelized aluminium industry of the 1930s as working against the national interest by impacting national production capacity in a negative way. The Allies bombed the major new plant in Norway in 1943, and after the war the US acted restrictively toward Norwegian capital assets in the US. By pursuing ownership after 1945, the Norwegian state performed strategic ownership roles in large corporations, thereby also protecting these entities from the possible wrath of the US against private owners.

This article contributes to scholarship on business history and gender in twentieth-century energy transitions. It examines Canadian electric power utility marketing plans and materials, newspaper and magazine accounts, and oral history interview records. Utilities initially sought to sell power as capital and labor rationality, mirroring industrial ideals of producing more with fewer resources. As those labor savings were realized, they increasingly sold power as a means to perform new organizational and emotional jobs of creating a more intimate, happier, and child-centered family life. In doing so, they redefined social life, from family-as-labor unit to family-as-leisure unit, while also redefining leisure-as-labor for women. Women in utility marketing materials, as observed in subsequent time-use studies, eventually saw fewer hours of housework and family care, although offset by increasing leisure jobs. Mobilizing social groups to advance an electrification agenda, utilities sold this new labor as an extension of energy service work in homes, public spaces, and leisure facilities.

In April 1785, the British prime minister, William Pitt, proposed to give Ireland “compleat liberty and equality” with Britain “in matters of trade.” Historians cast the stakes around Pitt’s “Irish” proposals in terms of ideologies about trade, but this paper focuses on the concrete economic issues involved. It shows that Pitt’s proposals emerged from years of debates in which contemporaries conceived of the British Atlantic economy in terms of an integration of trade, shipping, and credit that evokes a British system of colonial capitalism. Ireland’s dependent relationship to that system, and the perceived failure of “free trade” to overcome its poverty, generated a battle among Irish “improvers” over rival plans to attract “men of capitals” to Ireland. Pitt played an important role in this fierce Irish debate by favoring one plan, but the British prime minister and his main Irish advisor, Thomas Orde, were never convinced by that plan’s logic of improvement, supporting it instead for fiscal reasons. That calculus made Pitt’s proposals vulnerable to attack from economic interests in Britain that took Ireland’s plans for economic improvement more seriously.

International trade in strategic materials was critical to Allied victory in the Second World War, yet little is known about how that trade functioned in practice. This paper studies wartime imports of Chilean nitrate, which enabled the United States to increase food production without sacrificing munitions output. The US imported nitrate and other resources through a public purchase program that depended on the coordination and cooperation of a vast bureaucracy. Government agencies weighed the benefits and costs of Chilean nitrate differently and intervened at key junctures. For their part, Chilean corporate and diplomatic staff worked meeting rooms in Washington, negotiating the purchase contracts and managing day-to-day business with the US government. Chilean actors meanwhile pursued their own interests while contributing to the Allied victory. The business history of the US–Chilean nitrate trade demonstrates how Chile, sometimes mischaracterized as a disinterested neutral on the fringes of the conflict, played an important role during the Second World War.

During the last three decades of the twentieth century, John Labatt Ltd., one of Canada’s oldest and most successful breweries, attempted to gain a share of the British beer market. This article examines the push and pull factors of why foreign brewers like Labatt decided to enter the competitive British marketplace and analyzes the strategies of the winners and losers of the “lager war.” The article pays attention to the branding efforts of marketing managers and how some used product–place associations to imbue their brands with authenticity. While positive country images often lead to a favorable assessment of the products from that country, it is also true that unfavorable perceptions often foster negative assessments of their products. By examining the entrepreneurship and structural barriers of the beer industry in the United Kingdom toward the end of the twentieth century, the article adds to our understanding of the dynamics of business failure.

This article traces the evolution of Italian strategies for imperial expansion from the decades after unification—when many came to believe that imperial conquest would more advantageously position Italy in the liberal capitalist global economy—to the height of the fascist colonial project in the Horn of Africa—when the fascists tried to break with the liberal global economy and construct a new, radical mercantilist and corporatist empire. Taking inspiration from their predecessors, the fascist regime extracted capital, resources, and labor from Africans and Italians to finance its war against the Ethiopian empire and its colonization of the Horn. While the war temporarily stimulated Italian industry, employed hundreds of thousands of work-hungry Italians, and consolidated the regime’s many corporatist institutions, it drained Italy’s reserves and alarmed the Duce’s allies among Italy’s industrial and financial elite. The regime, thus, shifted strategies, focusing on reducing the cost of the empire by exploiting African workers, eliminating inefficient small enterprises, and creating vast concessions for Italian industrialists. Conquering new territories and markets, acquiring a variety of primary resources, and empowering industry, Mussolini and the radical mercantilist-corporatists aimed to resolve Italy’s perceived under-development, by placing Italy at the center of a great fascist Eurafrican empire that could dictate the terms of its engagement with the rest of the world.

This article explores how the International Labour Organization (ILO) introduced management development programs in Argentina as a pilot project in developing countries in the late 1950s. By studying how the ILO worked together with actors at the national level, the article reveals how the ILO’s original idea to focus on top management development was reshaped through a dialogue with local actors within the context of tripartite cooperation between the government, business organizations, and unions. While the initiative was successful during the project period, it collapsed when Argentina’s government closed down the national productivity center with which the ILO was cooperating. While the tripartite principle was valuable for the first achievements, it was extremely vulnerable without the support of all partners.