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Why the Secret of Success Is Adaptation


A market economy is never static. Products that are cutting-edge today will soon become commodified and easy to make. Industries that are on the technological frontier will become mainstream and, later, relics of the past. What is a good job today will inevitably become a bad job in the future. This dynamic was first recognized by Karl Marx, who thought that it was evidence of the inherent instability of the capitalist system. Eighty years later, however, the Austrian economist Joseph Schumpeter pointed out that instead of being a flaw, this process of “creative destruction” is capitalism’s greatest strength and its engine of growth.
By its very nature, the innovation sector is the part of a market economy where creative destruction matters the most. The Princeton economist Alan Blinder recently noted that in the 1950s, companies making television sets were at the heart of America’s high-tech sector and generating tens of thousands of high-paying jobs. After a while TV sets became just another easy-to-make commodity, and today no TV set is made in America. The computer manufacturing industry picked up where the TV industry left off, and for a while it was responsible for 400,000 high-paying jobs. We saw earlier that most of these jobs have now moved elsewhere. But this is not a sign of failure. Indeed, it is a sign of success. To remain prosperous, a society needs to keep climbing the innovation ladder. As Schumpeter argued, it is the dynamic that has been ensuring our prosperity since the beginning of the industrial revolution.
 The crucial question for America’s future is therefore whether our innovation clusters can adapt and reinvent themselves to maintain their edge. Clusters, unlike diamonds, are not forever. At some point the industry that supports them matures, stops bringing prosperity, and turns into a liability. The forces of attraction provide an important advantage, but once-mighty clusters have collapsed in spectacular ways. In its heyday, the Detroit auto industry was one of the country’s most important innovation hubs, arguably the Silicon Valley of its time. Like Silicon Valley today, Detroit was full of technologically superior companies that were the envy of the world. The economist Steven Klepper has shown that to an astonishing degree, the rise of Silicon Valley has been tracking the earlier rise of Detroit in terms of population, employment, startup creation, and innovation. Thus, Detroit’s remarkable trajectory holds important lessons for the future of our current innovation hubs.
Just like Silicon Valley today, Detroit used to think of its primacy as unassailable. In the 1940s and 1950s, its dominance of the auto industry appeared so strong that everyone started wanting a piece of it. Unions became increasingly aggressive in their demands for higher wages, more generous benefits, and rigid work rules. Management became complacent and began neglecting efficiency. Politicians thought that the auto industry could not move anywhere else and ignored the growing threat posed by southern states with right-to-work laws. More fundamentally, however, the city’s fatal flaw—the one responsible for its ultimate demise—was its inability to adapt. Clusters can’t afford to cling to a declining industry but need to leverage their unique strengths to reinvent themselves before the tipping point is reached and the local ecosystem enters a downward spiral. If they fail, the downfall can be swift and painful. The same attractive forces that fuel the rapid rise of clusters when things are good cause an accelerated collapse when things turn bad. Detroit’s mistake was not the failure to stop the demise of jobs in auto manufacturing. Different industrial relations, management practices, and political decisions could have postponed the decline, but it was just a matter of time until auto manufacturing stopped being an engine of growth. Rather, Detroit’s mistake was its failure to redirect its ecosystem into something new when it still had an ecosystem.
 This may well be the defining difference between Detroit and the San Francisco–Silicon Valley region. The area continues to experiment and adapt to the ever-changing technological landscape. San Francisco was once an industrial powerhouse, anchored by a major port. In the 1970s its ecosystem steered decisively toward professional services and finance and later to high tech. This process of reincarnation keeps taking place today. In 1990 the majority of high-tech jobs in the region were in hardware. Now more than 70 percent of its jobs are in newer technologies, including Internet, social media, cloud computing, clean tech, and digital entertainment. Life science research has significantly expanded its footprint.
The secret of success in a changing world is constant adaptation. As the definition of what is high technology evolves, so does the Bay Area. Rather than clinging to one product or one way of doing things, the region reshapes itself every year. The forces of attraction anchor skilled labor and specialized services, but the exact kind of skills and services evolve over time, following the changing terrain of the technological frontier. This ensures that when good jobs turn into bad jobs, there is a wave of new jobs to replace them. In a sense, this creative destruction is the true hallmark of a successful cluster, one that leverages the forces of attraction in a dynamic way.
 “All politics is local,” as the former Speaker of the House Tip O’Neill said. For all its glamour, the world of innovation is even more local than politics. Different communities differ in their values and expertise, and this inevitably shapes the new ideas they generate, ultimately resulting in something unique and hard to reproduce elsewhere. The innovative process is largely about the unexpected cross-fertilization that results when different parts of a community connect. In this respect, Silicon Valley’s move toward diversification is extremely important, because it deepens the complementarities and fosters the constant exchange of ideas and talent between different parts of the high-tech ecosystem. For example, the region’s unique strength in both medical research and gaming has caused these two seemingly unrelated sectors to become intertwined in the form of “serious games,” products that apply cutting-edge gaming technologies to cure diseases. A local company called Posit Science already produces gamelike software intended to improve memory and attention and possibly even help treat such disorders as autism and schizophrenia. Another example is Stellar Solutions, an aerospace company specializing in infrared missile warning systems and capsules to carry astronauts to Mars. Lately the company has been leveraging the expertise that makes it a leader in technologies of the heavens to develop technologies of the earth: its engineers are using electromagnetic waves to forecast earthquakes. The company’s CEO predicts that one day you will “turn on your TV and see not just hurricane warnings, but earthquake warnings.”
 Not all of America’s innovation hubs are equally successful at adapting. The landscape is dotted with cities that were once powerful engines of innovation and have failed to reinvent themselves. In the 1980s, for example, Rochester, New York, was an important cluster for innovation in optical technologies and imaging. Xerox was founded there in 1906 and retains a presence in the city to this day. Kodak is based there too, and until the 1980s it employed 62,000 workers. Back then Kodak was the Google or the Apple of its period and Rochester was one of the top producers of patents among U.S. cities. (Recall that until the mid-1990s, makers of photographic equipment and films dominated the list of patent producers.) Local wages vastly exceeded those in the state and in the nation. But with the advent of digital photography, people stopped buying Kodak films. The company never fully adjusted to the new digital landscape, and today it employs only 7,000 workers.
This was a serious blow, but it did not have to be fatal. Companies come and go, but communities don’t. The fundamental problem with Rochester was that the local high-tech cluster was not able to move to something new. As in the case of Detroit, local entrepreneurs never branched out into different parts of high tech in significant numbers and the community as a whole failed to make the transition to a new productive landscape. The University of Rochester remains a major research engine, there are some new high-tech companies in town, and patent creation is still happening, but it is clear that the city’s most dynamic years are in the past. Wages have fallen significantly below the state average and population is declining. Vacancies are so common in some neighborhoods that municipal workers paint murals with images of the city’s glory days along vast stretches of empty storefronts to hide the eyesores, according to the Wall Street Journal. The area surrounding Kodak’s headquarters, once bustling with activity and commerce, today looks like a ghost town.
 Looking forward, the forces of attraction raise two key questions for the United States. The first is what we should do to retain, foster, and strengthen our innovation hubs. How can we, as a nation, maximize the chances that our innovation hubs follow the path of the San Francisco–Silicon Valley cluster and not that of Detroit and Rochester? The second question is how to help the many remaining cities that do not have a concentration of good jobs and skilled workers and are lagging behind.
Before turning to these questions, however, we need to understand more fully how vast economic differences between cities can persist over time. As we have seen, the differences in wages and salaries among American communities are enormous, and now we know why: they reflect equally large differences in the productivity of workers, meaning that it makes sense for innovative companies to locate in innovation hubs, even if the costs of doing business are much higher. But what about the workers themselves? If the difference in salary and living conditions is so large, what prevents them from moving en masse from weak labor markets to stronger ones? Shouldn’t we all live in Seattle or Austin? We now turn to the issue of mobility and what it implies for communities across the country.


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