Sony made in Japan audiobook. Made in Japan. Japanese Marketing and Industrial Tradition

Translators O. Radynova, S. Shcheglov

Editor S. Ogareva

Technical editor N. Lisitsyna

Corrector M. Bubelets

Computer layout A. Fominov

Cover artist M. Sokolova

All rights reserved. No part electronic version This book may not be reproduced in any form or by any means, including posting on the Internet or corporate networks, for private or public use without the written permission of the copyright owner.

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Introduction

Forty years ago, on the evening of May 7, 1946, about twenty people gathered on the fourth floor of a fire-damaged department store in the war-ravaged center of Tokyo to establish new company– Tokyo Telecommunications Engineering Corporation, which was later destined to become Sony Corporation. The founder of this company, Masaru Ibuka, was 38 years old, I was 25. Meeting him turned out to be one of the greatest gifts of fate for me, and working together gave me great pleasure. This book owes its appearance to a long friendship with Masaru Ibuka. Almost a week after Sony's fortieth anniversary, my wife Yoshiko and I celebrated our thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. Yoshiko serves as my diplomatic representative and partner and, along with my sons Hideo and Masao, and daughter Naoko, supports and understands me, which allows me to devote myself fully to my work.

I cannot express my gratitude enough to my parents, my mentors, and the many friends and colleagues both inside and outside Sony who helped create a creative and supportive environment.

I am deeply grateful to Edwin Reingold and Mitsuko Shimomura, who listened with inexhaustible patience and enthusiasm to my thoughts and long stories. Without them I could not have completed this book. I would also like to express my sincere gratitude to many other people, especially my assistants Megumi Yoshii and Lydia Maruyama for their important work in preparing materials for this book.

War
Salvation and hope

Chapter 1

When the incredible news of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima arrived, I was having lunch with my fellow sailors. The information was sketchy: we weren't even told what kind of bomb had been dropped, but as a military engineer fresh out of college with a physics degree, I understood what kind of bomb it was and what it meant for Japan and for me. The future had never been so uncertain - after all, Japan had never lost a war - and only young people could remain optimistic. Still, even then, I believed in myself and my future.

Many months have passed since I realized that Japan was losing the war and there was no point in continuing it, but I also knew that the military wanted to fight to the last soldier. I was 24 years old, a graduate of Osaka Imperial University, and working as part of a multidisciplinary team of scientists and engineers that would improve thermal seeker weapons and night sights. The military authorities hoped that Japanese technology would change the course of the war, and although we worked very hard, we still knew that it was too late and that our projects would not be successful. We lacked funds and time. And now, after Hiroshima, it became clear to me that time had run out.

Unlike the civilian population, who at that time were under constant surveillance and surveillance by the police and army, I had access to naval information and could listen to shortwave radio broadcasts, although this was prohibited even for off-duty Navy officers. Even before the events of August 6, 1945, I knew that the Americans were much stronger than us and the war, one might say, had already been lost. But nevertheless, the message about the atomic bombing was unexpected for me. The bombing took us by surprise.

On that hot, humid summer day, we did not yet know what a terrible weapon the dropped bomb turned out to be. The newsletter that was on our table in the officers' mess only said that this bomb was a " the new kind a weapon that produces a blinding flash,” but such a description left us in no doubt that it was an atomic device. However, the Japanese military authorities hid specific information about what happened in Hiroshima for a very long time, and some officers did not believe that the Americans had an atomic bomb. We are not far enough advanced in our theoretical research to know the extent of the destructive power of such weapons and to imagine how many people could die as a result of their explosion. We did not yet know how terrible atomic weapons were, but I saw the terrible consequences of conventional incendiary bombs because I arrived in Tokyo the day after squadrons of B-29s dropped incendiary bombs on the night of March 9-10. , causing a fiery tornado in which 100 thousand people died in just a few hours. I also had to witness the terrible bombing of my hometown Nagoya. All of Japan's great industrial cities, with the exception of Kyoto, in 1945 were partially scorched deserts, bleak, charred ruins - all that remained of the homes of millions of Japanese. That an atomic bomb could be even more terrible seemed incredible.

Although the bomb was dropped on August 6th at 8.15 am, we did not hear about it until noon on August 7th. My reaction to the news of the Hiroshima bomb was that of a scientist. I no longer cared about the rice on the plate in front of me, although during the war in Japan it was a great luxury. I looked around at my colleagues sitting around the table and said: “From now on, we may well abandon our research. If the Americans were able to create an atomic bomb, then we are too far behind in all areas to catch up with them.” My boss was very angry with me.

I knew something about the potential of atomic energy, but it seemed to me that it would take at least twenty years to create an atomic bomb, and I was shocked to learn that the Americans had already done it. It was clear that if the Americans had gone so far, our technology was simply primitive compared to theirs. I said that whatever weapon we invented, it would be much worse, and it seemed to me that we would not have time to create anything in time to counteract this bomb - neither new weapons, nor protective equipment. The news about Hiroshima was something completely incredible for me. The technical gap it indicated was colossal.

We knew that there were differences between American and Japanese technology. However, we thought our technique was very good. This was true, but we still tried to find as many new ideas as possible everywhere. One day, for example, we received equipment from a downed B-29 bomber and noted that the Americans were using better technology and different electrical circuitry, but none of it was much better than ours.

That's why, when I first heard about the atomic bombing of Hiroshima, I was amazed that America's industrial power was greater than we had imagined, simply incomparably greater. But for me it shouldn’t have been so unexpected. As a boy in school, I saw a film about the construction of Ford Motor Company's River Rouge complex in Dearborn, Michigan. The concept of this gigantic construction project delighted me. The film was shown large ships, delivering iron ore from distant mines to Ford's metallurgical plant at River Rouge, where it was converted into various grades and profiles of steel. The finished steel was sent to another plant of the plant, where various parts for cars were cast or stamped from it, and in the next part of the same plant, cars were assembled from the parts. At that time Japan did not have complex production similar type. As fate would have it, many years later, when the country was recovering from the war and creating new industry, building new efficient factories on the coast and creating complexes similar to the Ford factories that we saw before the war, I had the opportunity to visit the River Rouge plant. I was surprised, puzzled and disappointed to see the same images that I remembered from a film made almost twenty years earlier. It seemed that the technology had not changed since then. Then I thought about what would happen to American industry and the dominant position that America occupied, the envy of the whole world.

But in August 1945, I could not come to my senses when I realized how dramatic changes awaited Japan and me. I thought about my future for a long time. An officer convinced me to enlist in the Navy and work in a college program that would allow me to pursue scientific research without dying in a useless naval battle thousands of miles from home. And then, after Hiroshima, and also after the second atomic bombing, this time of the city of Nagasaki, I fully realized that Japan would need all the talent it could salvage for the future. I can even say that even then, as a young man, I felt that I had to play some role in this future. But I didn’t know how big this role would be.

At that time, I also did not know how in later years I would devote hours, weeks, and months and literally travel thousands of miles to help bring Japan closer to the United States, as well as to other Western countries.

I was the firstborn and fifteenth generation heir of one of the most noble and ancient sake brewing families in Japan. Sake is not only the national drink of Japan, but also one of the cultural symbols for the Japanese people. It even serves as an element of many religious rituals - at traditional wedding ceremonies, young spouses drink a glass of sake together. The Morita family in the village of Kosugaya, near the industrial center of Nagoya, has been brewing sake for three hundred years, known as Nenohimatsu. It received this name from the title of a poem included in Man’yoshi, a famous anthology of Japanese poetry compiled in the 8th century. This is the name of the traditional custom when, on the first day of the Year of the Rat according to the eastern calendar, you need to go to the village to pick up a pine seedling, bring it home and plant it in the garden. The pine tree symbolizes longevity and happiness, and by planting a pine tree at the beginning of the new year, people wish themselves health and prosperity throughout the year.

Morita also produced soy sauce and miso paste, an essential condiment in Japanese cuisine used in soups and as a garnish for other dishes. Because the Morita family's cause was so important to the population, the family always occupied the position of civil leader of the community.

My father was a very good businessman, but he inherited an old business that was experiencing serious financial difficulties. My grandfather and great-grandfather were aesthetes interested in the fine arts and crafts of Japan and China, and both of them spent a lot of time and money on social activities and assistance to artists, craftsmen and art dealers. Fine ceramics and utensils for tea ceremonies, beautiful furniture, paintings and other objects accompanying the rituals public life Japanese aristocracy have always been highly valued - and very expensive. For many years, Japan awarded the title of “Master of National Art” to the best craftsmen and artists who continued the traditions of Japanese national culture - painters, potters, textile workers, blacksmiths, weavers, calligraphers and others. The works of these magnificent masters have always been in great demand among beauty lovers. Unfortunately, the tastes of the heads of two generations of the Morita family were so refined, and their passion as collectors so strong, that while they indulged in their hobbies, leaving the enterprise to the mercy of fate, or rather, giving it into the wrong hands, the business suffered.

They hoped that hired managers would be able to run the Morita company. However, for them this company was only a source of livelihood, and if things went badly, it was regrettable, but it was not a matter of life and death for them. Ultimately, all the managers faced was losing their jobs. They had no intergenerational responsibility for maintaining the integrity and prosperity of the enterprise, or for the financial well-being of the Morita family. Therefore, when the business passed into the hands of my father, as the eldest son, he was faced with the urgent task of making the company profitable again and restoring the Morita family's fortunes. No outside manager would have done this for him.

It wasn't an easy task. My father, Kyuzaemon Morita, a business management student at Keio University in Tokyo, was pulled away from his studies to take over the company. The company was threatened with bankruptcy, and the father understood that although he had to give up theoretical studies, real life crises would test him - not examples from the textbook, but the future of the Morita family. He returned home and, taking the company into his own hands, began to put it on its feet.

Ironically, and fortunately for our entire family, he came up with the money to pay off the company's debts and bring the abandoned factory back into good condition by selling many of the pieces of art his father and grandfather had bought. The cost of things had increased over the years, and so, although the family's investment in works of art was not a very wise thing from a business management point of view, it turned out to be profitable and even played a decisive role in saving the company. Among the treasures he had to sell were three particularly valuable items: a Chinese manuscript, a Chinese bronze mirror, and an ancient piece of jade jewelry created in Japan from about 350 BC. e. before 250 AD e. My father was a serious and conservative man, and he knew how much these items meant to his father, so he vowed to buy them back as soon as family income allowed. And indeed, a few years later they were bought back and again replenished the family collection.

By the time I, the eldest son of Kyuzaemon and Shuko Morita, was born, the company was firmly on its feet again, and as a child I did not have to suffer any hardships at home. On the contrary, I have always been in a privileged position. Our family was rich, and we lived in a huge (by Japanese standards) rambling house on Shirakabecho, one of Nagoya's most beautiful streets. People called it the street of the rich. There was a tennis court on our property, and the Toyoda family had the same court on the other side of the street, as well as our other neighbors on both sides of the street. At that time, we needed a big house, because there were a lot of us under one large tiled roof: me, my brothers - Kazuaki, two years younger than me, Masaaki, six years younger, and sister Kikuko, three years younger than me. . Our father and mother lived there, of course, as well as our aunt, whose husband died young, leaving her no children, younger brother my father, who studied painting in France for four years, my father’s parents, as well as six servants and three or four young men from our family village, whom my family helped to finish school in exchange for housework.

It seemed like there was always something going on in the house, and this is perhaps not surprising when you remember how many people lived there. True, we had our own rooms and my parents and children usually dined separately from the rest of the household. But on special occasions, such as someone's birthday, we would open all the doors between rooms and have a formal dinner with twenty or thirty of our family and friends. On the birthday there was usually a party and a lottery. Everyone won some kind of prize and there was much laughter, jokes and food. Managing such a large household and settling the disputes and quarrels that broke out between the children, as well as between the young servants and students who lived with us, did not give my mother, an intelligent woman with great patience, a moment of peace.

My mother was only seventeen years old when she married my father, and they were initially afraid that they would not have children. Then, as now, in Japan it was considered very important to have a son and heir. But by the time I was born, to their great relief, seven years had passed. My mother was a quiet, artistic and gentle woman who took her responsibility for managing the household extremely seriously. She was always busy making sure that all the work was done and that relations between all these people were good or at least polite. For a Japanese housewife, she was a very confident woman, which in those days was quite unusual phenomenon. She had strong opinions, especially when it came to my education, but she was never like today's pushy mothers who force their children to attend special courses where they are coached to ensure they get into prestigious schools and universities. It seems to me that my mother understood everything, and it was easy to talk to her, certainly easier than with my father. For him, the main business of life was the company, which he had to save, rebuild and develop, and therefore I turned to my mother for advice and help much more often than to my father.

My mother changed many traditions in our family. On one side, she came from a samurai family and understood traditions - a kimono was her everyday clothing, but her mother accepted everything new. Of course, we children often quarreled and fought, but as I got older—I was about ten years old—I developed my own interests, and I turned to her for advice more and more often. My mother managed all the affairs of the house and gave me a room with a table. When I started experimenting, I got a second table because I needed a workbench. She also bought me a bed, so I slept differently than everyone else in our house - under a quilt on a tatami mat. I was brought up in a modern spirit, even when I was little. My mother and father wanted this because they raised me as an heir family company and as the next head of the Morita family, Morita XV, who was to take the name Kyuzaemon.

It was a tradition in our family that when a son becomes the head of the family, he gives up his name and takes the name Kyuzaemon. Almost all first-born children for fifteen generations received at birth alternately the name Punesuke or the name Hikotaro. Until my father took over the role of head of the family and became Kyuzaemon XIV, he was called Hikotaro Morita. His father, who was given the name Punesuke Morita at birth, became Kyuzaemon Morita when he took over the company, and when he retired and transferred his functions and responsibilities to my father, he took another first name, becoming Nobuhide Morita.

But when I was born, my father decided that the name Punesuke destined for me sounded too old-fashioned for the 20th century, so he invited a venerable Japanese scholar, an expert on China and Chinese literature, to consult with him about what name to give me. This man was a famous scientist and also a friend of my grandfather, and he recommended the name Akio, which was represented by the hieroglyph for the word "enlightened" and was pronounced "aki". This hieroglyph also appeared in the name of my grandfather. Chinese characters usually have several, some even dozens, pronunciations. And so my first name can be interpreted as “enlightened” or “unusual”, and when combined with the surname Morita, the name means “rich rice field.” It sounded optimistic and hopeful, and it was a name one could carry for a lifetime. My parents liked my name so much that they used it as one of the syllables when they named my two brothers, Masaaki and Kazuaki. The reigns of emperors in Japan are called eras according to the official calendar, and the counting of years in each era begins anew. When Hirohito became emperor in 1926 after the death of his father, the imperial family consulted the same renowned sinologist to find a favorable title for his reign. He called this era Showa, which meant "enlightened world", using the same character that represents the syllable "aki" in my name, but is pronounced "sho". (The year 1986 is officially called Showa, that is, the sixty-first year of the imperial era, called "Showa".) My family suggests that now I should still take the name Kyuzaemon. You can go to family court and change your name if you can prove historical precedent, but I think for me that would be a mistake because so many people around the world know me as Akio. But sometimes I sign my name with the initials AKM, which stands for Akio Kyuzaemon Morita, and my Lincoln Continental car in the US has the personal number "AKM-15". Someday my eldest son Hideo will succeed me as the head of the family, but whether he becomes Kyuzaemon or not will be up to him to decide, although my wife and I would like him to bear that name. But I did get ahead of myself a little in my story.

From early childhood I knew about the traditions of my family and my ancestors. Our family was lucky to have highly educated people and art lovers, like my grandfather and great-grandfather were. My ancestors were civilian leaders and officials in our village dating back to the beginning of Tokugawa Ieyasu's reign in the 17th century. They were the elite and in those days they were given the privilege of having a family name and carrying a sword. Whenever my parents took me to Kosugaya, for a visit or just for a day, its inhabitants would rush around with me, which contributed to the growth of my self-esteem.

My father's great-grandfather, Kyuzaemon XI, loved new things and new ideas, and during the Meiji era, on the eve of this century, he invited a Frenchman to Japan to help him carry out his venture of growing grapes and producing wine. He had already come up with the name of the wine and was eager to produce not only sake, but also wine according to the Western model. At that time, after more than two hundred and fifty years of voluntary isolation, Japan was turning its face to the world. New things were coming into fashion, and Emperor Meiji encouraged the Japanese to learn from the West, converting Special attention on the Western way of life and Western technology. In Tokyo, ballroom dancing was held according to all the rules, the Japanese copied European clothes and hairstyles, and also tried Western food, even in the palace.

But there were other reasons for starting wine production. Emperor Meiji's government foresaw a future rice shortage, and rice was the main raw material for sake. Planting vineyards and replacing sake with wine where possible would help weather the lean years that some had predicted would come. Historians also claim that the government sought employment for the many samurai warriors who found themselves unemployed under the new government. We had a lot of land, and in 1880, with the support of the Meiji government, grape cuttings were brought from France and planted. My ancestor installed a wine press, built a distillery, and brought people from surrounding areas to work in the vineyards. After four years, a small amount of wine was produced, and hopes arose that the new business would prosper. But this was not destined to come true.

It was a time when French vineyards were dying - first from powdery mildew, then from phylloxera, small insects similar to lice that devastated the vineyards. Apparently, the cuttings delivered from France were infected, and, despite all careful preparations, the idea was unsuccessful. In 1885, phylloxera was discovered in the Kyuzaemon vineyards and they had to be destroyed. Kyuzaemon had to sell the land to pay off his debts. Vineyards were turned into plantations for silkworm breeding. But Morita's other traditional products, such as soy sauce and sake, were included in the Paris International Exhibition in 1899, and one of them won a gold medal—a big deal for a Japanese company in those days. However, my ancestor had a desire to try new things, and he had the strength and courage to not give up if any of his projects turned out to be unsuccessful. His predecessor, having become the head of the family, began producing beer by hiring a Chinese brewer who learned his craft in England. He also founded a bakery (now called Pasco), which flourished and today has branches abroad. Tenacity, perseverance and optimism are the character traits that were passed on to me through family genes. I think my father recognized them in me.

My father's great-grandfather died in 1894, and in 1918, in recognition of his services to the community, a bronze statue of him was erected in Kosugai. With his own money, he built roads, carried out landscaping, and accomplished so many useful deeds that Emperor Meiji, who once visited not far from our village, rewarded him. Unfortunately, during the war, his statue was melted down for military purposes, but a cast was taken of it and a porcelain bust was made, which still stands in the forest in front of the temple in Kosugai.

Our family history seems to revolve around Kosugai, my parents moved from this quiet village to Nagoya, the main city of our prefecture, where I was born on January 26, 1921. The move to Nagoya, a bustling industrial city and the capital of Aichi Prefecture, was associated with his father's plans to modernize the Morita company and new spirit to the old company. Moreover, this city was more suitable place For driving modern enterprise than a charming village. Therefore, I grew up in the city rather than in my ancestral village, although we still consider our roots to be in Kosugai.

We recently discovered many ancient records about the village in our family archives, and we found them so interesting that I established a foundation for the preservation and study of this collection of historical documents. These materials contain very detailed information about what life was like in a Japanese village three hundred years ago from a purely practical point of view. We cataloged these documents and sent bound copies to major libraries and universities in Japan. For safety, the old storerooms and three-story buildings, as parts of a single complex, were covered with a glass dome, and now scientists come there to get acquainted with the documents located there. I often think that if I ever retire, I will be able to work on these historical documents in Kosugai for many more years.

My father was very kind to me, but I carried the burden of the eldest son, and he decided to teach me commerce from the earliest years of my life. My father was a man of his time. Since he, as the eldest son, had to give up his studies to save the family fortune, he became a very practical and, apparently, conservative, even too conservative, as it seemed to me then, businessman when it came to making decisions about creating new enterprises or do something unusual. He seemed to take too long to make decisions, and he was always worried about something. I thought that sometimes it bothered him even that he had nothing to worry about. I often argued with him about certain responsibilities that fell upon me, and I believe that he loved these little arguments as a way of giving me an opportunity to express my opinions, to teach me to reason and give logical arguments. He turned even my anger into learning. As I got older, I still often argued with him because of his conservatism. However, this conservatism has served our family well. Although he was a serious and cautious businessman, he was a passionate and kind father. He spent all his free time with the children, and I have many memories of how my father taught us to swim, fish and go on hikes.

But business remained business for him, and there was no room for fun. When I was ten or eleven years old, he first took me with him to the office and to the sake brewery. He taught me how to run a business, and I had to sit next to my father during long, boring board meetings. He taught me how to talk to the people who work for me, and even when I was in first grade, I knew how business discussions work. Since my father was the owner of the enterprise, he could invite his managers to his home for reports and conversations, and he always demanded that I listen to them. After a while I started to like it.

They always told me: “You are the boss from birth. You are the eldest son in the family. Remember this". I was not allowed to forget that someday I would succeed my father as the head of our company and the head of the family. It seems very important to me that when I was young, I was warned every now and then: “Don’t think that because you’re at the top you can boss everyone around. You must understand the matter very well before you make decisions and ask others to do something, and also take full responsibility for your decision.” I was taught that it is useless to scold subordinates and look for those to blame when difficulties arise, to look for scapegoats. According to the Japanese way of thinking that I was taught at home, in order to do something that benefits both parties, one must use common motives. Everyone strives for success. When I studied relationships with workers, I realized that a manager must cultivate character traits such as patience and sensitivity. You cannot behave selfishly or dishonestly towards people. These concepts became ingrained in me and helped me develop a management philosophy that has served me very well in the past and continues to serve me and my company today.

My family was also guided by ancestral precepts rooted in Buddhism. My family was devout and we held our regular religious services at home. We, children, were given a collection of sutras and required that we read these incomprehensible hieroglyphs together with adults. I don't consider myself a religious person, but these customs and traditions are very important in my family and we still adhere to them. In later years, when we came home to visit our father and mother, we always went to the home altar first and bowed to it.

The most important task of a Japanese manager is to establish normal relations with employees, create an attitude towards the corporation as a family, and create an understanding that workers and managers have the same destiny. The companies that have achieved the greatest success in a country are those that have managed to create a belief in a common destiny among all employees and shareholders. Americans call this the labor-management relationship.

No matter how good or lucky you are, no matter how smart or dexterous you are, your business and its fate are in the hands of the people you hire.

This year, looking into the faces of seven hundred young energetic graduates, I spoke to them with instructions, which I have been doing for almost forty years.

“First,” I told them, “you need to understand the difference between a school and a company. When you go to school, you pay school fees, but now our company will pay you tuition fees, and while you learn your profession, you will be a heavy burden on the company.

Secondly, if you did well in exams at school, you received a hundred points. This is wonderful. But if you couldn't write anything on your test, you got a zero. In the business world, you have to take exams every day, and you may get not a hundred, but a thousand points, or just fifty. The truth is, in business, if you make a mistake, you don't just get zero points. If you make a mistake, it will always be some kind of negative value, and there is no limit to the losses. Therefore, a mistake can become a threat to the company.”

When speaking to high school students, I usually say, “We are not mobilizing you. This is not an army, it means that you voluntarily chose the Sony enterprise. It's your decision, and we hope that if you join our company, you will work for us for twenty to thirty years.

No one gets to live twice, and the next twenty to thirty years are the best period of your life. It is given to you once.

I don't want you to regret spending all these years here when you leave our company thirty years from now, or at the end of your life. It would be a tragedy. It cannot be emphasized too strongly that you are responsible to yourself, so I am telling you that the most important thing you should do in the next few months is to decide whether you will be happy with us or not. After all, although we hired you, we, the administration from the outside, cannot make other people happy. You must create happiness yourself."

The idea that an employee should spend his entire working life in one company is not a Japanese invention. Ironically, it was forced upon us. To put the story in a simplified form, the Japanese system of so-called lifetime or at least long-term employment was actually imposed on us by labor laws established by the occupation authorities, when many economists were sent from the United States to Japan for the purpose of demilitarizing and democratizing the country. liberal, leftist views

The concept of lifetime employment arose when Japanese managers and employees realized that they had much in common and that they should have long-term plans. The laws made layoffs legally difficult and expensive. Lifetime employment didn't seem like such a bad idea, since workers desperately needed work and struggling companies needed dedicated workers.

Working with people in industry, we realized that they work not only for money and that if you want to stimulate them, money is not the most effective means. To stimulate people, one must make them members of the family and treat them as respected members of the family. Of course, in our nationally homogeneous country this is probably easier to do than anywhere else, but given a certain level of culture of the population it is still possible.

The investor and the worker are in the same position, but sometimes the worker is more important because he will work for a long time, while the investor often does not think twice about joining or leaving a company, wanting to make a profit.

Companies take different positions on this issue further in Japan. However, at the core there must be mutual respect and a feeling that the company belongs to the workers and not just to a small handful of managers. It is the duty of the people in charge of the company to honestly lead the family of the company's employees and take care of its members.

Our policy is that, wherever we are in the world, we treat the people we hire as members of the Sony family, as dear colleagues

In the US, a craftsman can remain a craftsman all his life, and there is nothing wrong with that if it suits him and the company. It seems to me, however, that it is better to transfer people to other jobs, rather than leaving them too long in one job, where they can become dull.

I started publishing weekly newspaper companies where we publish vacancy announcements. This gives workers the opportunity to secretly try to move to another job. We are trying to transfer our employees to new job approximately once every two years. But energetic, growing employees should be given the opportunity to change jobs within the company earlier so that they can find a place that matches their level. We get a double benefit from this: the person usually finds a job that is more satisfying, and at the same time, the HR department can identify potential management problems that subordinates are trying to escape.

Initially, newcomers are assigned to work by the HR department. True, the HR department or managers are not omniscient, and managers are not always able to deliver the right person to the right place. Rather, the employee himself should strive to find suitable job, which is why I told one young worker who complained about his boss: “If you are unhappy with your job, you have the right to look for a better job. Why don't you do this? If a person chooses a job he likes, this gives him a certain incentive, since he got the job he wanted and, in all likelihood, will try very hard in the new place.

Many Japanese companies like to use the words “cooperation” and “harmony” because they don’t like employees who are different.

Several years ago, when I was the vice president of the company and Michiji Tajima was the chairman of the board, there was a confrontation between us that illustrates what I want to say.

“Morita, you and I have different views. I don’t want to stay in a company like yours, because you have different ideas than me, we will have conflicts.”

I answered him very boldly, because I was then as sure that I was right as I am now. I said:

“Sir, if you and I had exactly the same opinions on all issues, why would they keep us both in this company and pay us a salary. In that case, either you or I would have to resign. It is precisely because you and I have different opinions that our company is less at risk of making a mistake.

Please consider my opinion without getting annoyed with me. If you are going to resign because I have a different opinion, you are demonstrating your disloyalty to our company.”

An American director of a joint venture company in Tokyo complained to me that he could not find the culprit in an accident in his company, and he asked me what I thought was the reason that he could not identify the culprit, no matter how hard he tried. I explained to him that the dignity of his company lies precisely in the fact that everyone accepts his responsibility for this accident and that if he finds one employee guilty, this can lead to the moral decay of the entire team.

I always tell our employees not to read too much into what their managers tell them. I say, “Act without waiting for instructions.” I explain to the managers what it is important element in nurturing the abilities and creative potential of their subordinates. Young people have flexible and creative minds, so managers shouldn't hammer them ready-made ideas, as this can suppress their personality before it even has a chance to blossom

I like to go to a factory or branch office and talk to people when the opportunity arises. Not long ago, when I was in the center of Tokyo, I had a few free minutes in my schedule, and I saw a small office of the Sony travel agency. I had never been there before, so I just went there and introduced myself. “I came here so you could see me in person,” I said. “I’m sure you’ve seen me on TV or in newspapers, so I think it would be interesting for you to see Morita alive.” Everyone laughed, I walked around the office, talking with the staff, and in those few minutes we all felt good from the knowledge that we were all doing a common cause. One day, when I arrived at a small Sony laboratory near Palo Alto, our manager, an American, asked me to pose for some photographs. I said I'd be happy to do it. In less than an hour, I took a photo with each of the thirty to forty employees and said to the manager, “I like your attitude. You correctly understand Sony’s policy that its employees are one family.”

But the main thing I want to say by this is that these mistakes or miscalculations are characteristic of man, what they represent normal phenomenon and ultimately did not cause damage to the company. I am ready to take responsibility for any decision I make as a leader. But if the person who made the mistake is disgraced and deprived of the opportunity to advance his career, he may lose incentive for the rest of his working life, and the company will lose everything that he could later give it. If, on the other hand, the reasons for the error are found out and reported, the person who made the mistake will never forget it and others will not repeat it. I always tell our people: “Keep working and do what you think is right. If you make a mistake, you will learn from the mistake. Just don’t make the same mistake twice.”

We had a district sales manager who seemed very promising, so promising that I even sent him to Tokyo on an extended business trip to get to know everyone in the Tokyo office and to internalize the philosophy and spirit of our organization. He did a great job and made a good impression on everyone in Tokyo. Returning to the States, he continued to work and make us happy until one day, without any warning, he came into my office and said: “Mr. Morita, thank you for everything, but I’m leaving.” I couldn't believe my ears. But it wasn't a joke. One competitor offered him a salary two or three times higher, and he accepted the offer. I realized that this is the American way of doing things. This episode made me very upset and sad and, frankly, I just didn’t know what to do. A few months later I went to an exhibition electronic goods, and there in the pavilion of one of our competitors sat this traitor. I thought he would avoid meeting me, but instead of hiding from me, he rushed towards me and spoke to me casually, as if he had nothing to be ashamed of. He enthusiastically showed me the exhibition and showed me his New Product, as if he had not committed a dishonorable act towards me. Then I realized that from his point of view and from the point of view of the American system, his departure, although he had information about our marketing and knew the secrets of our company, did not represent anything wrong. Obviously, this happens here every day and this is far from a manager's paradise. I vowed that my company would make every effort to prevent this aspect of American management practices from being adopted.

Since the oil embargo, Japan has suffered great losses because we are completely dependent on foreign sources of oil. In one year, 1973/1974, our inflation rate exceeded twenty-five percent, and some companies simply could not keep their enterprises running, so they had to send people home. But these people simply couldn't sit at home while their company was in trouble. There were cases when workers returned to the company, cleaned the premises, mowed the lawns, and took on any odd jobs. One appliance company sent workers to local electrical stores to work for free to help retailers who were also losing money. The idea for this did not come from the administration at all. It came from the workers themselves, who understood that their jobs depended on the fate of the company. I was told about one laid-off Osaka worker who returned to his factory and confessed to a reporter that his wife had shamed him: “How can you sit at home all day with your hands folded,” she said, “when your company is in trouble?”

I don't see anything good in firing people. If the management takes risks and takes responsibility by hiring workers, then its duty is to provide them with work. The hired worker is not responsible for decision, why should he suffer during a recession because of the management's decision to hire him?

I don't want my managers to think of themselves as superior people. chosen by god to lead foolish people to miracles

If we talk about management, the surprising thing is that a manager can make mistakes for years that no one is aware of. This is because the art of management, despite the work of Harvard Business School and other institutions, as well as the growing number of holders of high degrees in business management, is something elusive that cannot always be judged by the results of the next quarter.

I recently told my managers: “You shouldn’t pretend to be a performer walking on a tight wire under a circus big top in front of your workers. You must show them how you are trying to convince a large number of people to willingly and enthusiastically follow you to contribute to the success of the company. If you can achieve this, good results will follow.”

In the United States and Europe, managers too often abandon work on a promising product because the development costs seem too high. This is a very short-sighted policy that could lead to a loss of competitiveness.

I think that among the people I have hired there are more creatively gifted workers than mediocre ones. They don't always agree with me, but that's fine, of course.

“Your company is full of engineers,” he said, and from the tone of his voice I realized that he was not saying this as a compliment...

Since these engineers founded the company, they believe that they should continue to lead it. From an outsider's perspective, this company is old-fashioned and poorly managed

“All jobs are basically the same. You have to put in the effort, whether you work in the A&R department of a record company, as a street salesman, or as an accountant. You are getting wages and must work one hundred percent to complete the task assigned to you. When I worked in the repertory department, I had a lot of fun there, I was enthusiastic and I was happy, but as long as you are happy with your work and use your energy, you will naturally be happy. I was also interested in working in accounting. As I wrestled with stacks of invoices, payroll, balance sheets, profit and loss statements, and all those numbers, I discovered something new every day. I was starting to get a general understanding of the company's operations, its financial position, what was happening every day and the path the company was taking. I found it to be just as interesting as working in the studio."

I sometimes compare American companies to a wall made of bricks, while Japanese companies are like walls made of stones. I want to say by this that in American company all her plans are drawn up in advance and the scope of everyone’s work is defined. In addition, as the job advertisement sections of American newspapers show, companies are looking for people suitable for a particular job. If during the verification of the applicant for workplace If he is found to go beyond the established limits or fall short of them, he is usually rejected. This is why this structure is like a wall of bricks: each worker must fit exactly into his assigned niche or he will be rejected. In Japan, we hire people first and then see how we can use them. This is a highly educated but diverse crowd. The manager looks closely at these “raw stones” for a long time and builds a wall, combining them in the most the best way, just like a mason lays a stone wall. The stones are round, square, oblong, large or small, but managers must determine how to put them together. In addition, people change as they age, and Japanese managers should also be aware that the shape of these stones changes over time. When the company's activities take on a new character, the need arises to rebuild the wall. I don't want to push this analogy too far, but the adaptability of workers and managers to new conditions has become a hallmark of Japanese enterprise.

The main function of managers is decision-making, which requires professional knowledge of technology, as well as the ability to foresee the future direction or trends in the development of technology and technology. I believe that a manager should have a wide range of general knowledge relevant to the area in which he conducts business. This also contributes to the emergence of a sixth sense, which knowledge and experience give rise to - a feeling in one’s business, which is no longer associated with knowledge of facts and figures, and such intuition is a gift inherent only to people.

I once had lunch in New York with management specialist Professor Peter Drucker and advertising executive Bill Bernbach, whose agency has produced many wonderful campaigns for us, including the popular and successful Tammy TV series. The conversation turned to management, and Drucker said: “When I talk to Japanese managers, they seem to think irrationally, but, strangely enough, they eventually come to the right conclusions. How does this happen?

business management,” he admitted. “But to accept rational decisions, you need to know all the facts and the big picture into which they fit. However, a person cannot know everything. American managers may consider themselves rational, but they can only reason based on the facts they know. Of course, there are many facts and factors environment, which they don't know about. If this knowledge is not there, then no matter how rational the conclusions may seem, they will naturally be erroneous.”

“In contrast,” he continued, “Japanese managers seem to have a kind of Eastern sixth sense.” Perhaps, rather than weighing one fact against another, they grasp the whole idea and then use the information, along with that “sixth sense,” to make decisions. Therefore, they grasp the general idea better than those who arrive at it through strict logical reasoning.”

I think that in the US and Japan these firms are the most overloaded and misused after legal firms. I use consultants on a selective basis and have found that the best ones can gather valuable information and perform market analysis. But their use can be - and is - taken to ridiculous extremes. So often, when the results of a market research turn out to be wrong, you can hear a reference to the fact that market conditions have changed since the research was conducted. Then what is the point of the study itself?

Once a decision is made - whether it comes from the shop floor or from the board of directors - it is typical for the Japanese that all employees of the company devote their all to the project without any of the corner attacks, backbiting and obstruction that can sometimes be observed in some Western companies.

One journalist, who came to Japan to interview a number of Japanese businessmen, came to me almost at the end of his visit to the country. I asked him what his impression was, and he answered me very frankly. He said that after several weeks he finally learned to understand the Japanese: “I don't have to listen to what they say at the beginning. I begin to listen to their words only after they say “however”, because before that they express all sorts of other people’s thoughts. After this word they express their own ideas.”

Television has made such a strong impression on people from the very beginning and they were so deeply aware of it that they did not think much about the main disadvantage of television, which is that, no matter how good or interesting these programs are, the information disappears just as quickly , as it comes.

I constantly encourage my employees to find ways to keep up with the changes that are happening and turn them into an advantage against our competitors, because it is clear that these changes will continue to happen and they cannot be reversed, slowed down or reversed.

One of the most important concepts of value that we have retained since ancient times is the concept of "moat-tay-nay", which defies literal translation. This is a key concept that can help us understand a lot about Japan, the Japanese people, and our hard work. This expression means that everything that exists in the world is a gift from the Creator, and we should be grateful for this gift and not waste anything. Literally, moat-tay-nay means irreverent, profane, but in a deeper sense it implies sacrilege, an insult to Heaven. We Japanese believe that everything is given to us as sacred property, entrusted to our care and, in fact, only loaned to us so that we can make the best use of it. Wasting anything is considered a sin.

I know that this concept exists to a certain extent in the West and throughout the East, but in Japan it has a special meaning. The struggle for survival under the constant threat of hard times and natural disasters, the desire to produce goods with a minimum of raw materials - all this has become a way of life for the Japanese, and therefore waste is considered a shame, almost a crime.

I remember one American expression - “an inexhaustible source.” We don't have such an expression.

Our people probably have neatness in their blood. Perhaps this has something to do with the care with which we have to learn to draw the complex hieroglyphs of our language. But whatever the reasons, when we, for example, tell a Japanese worker that the tolerances of a particular part are plus or minus five, he automatically tries to work this part with zero tolerance. When we set up our plant in the USA, we found that the workers followed instructions exactly. If we told them: “Make this part to a tolerance of plus or minus five,” we would get parts with approximately these tolerances, but these tolerances were extremely rarely as close to zero as those of the Japanese workers. We discussed the question of what we should do about this and quickly found an answer. For American instructions, we simply set tolerances within plus or minus two, and American workers produced the products we needed that met these tolerances. If we needed American workers to make a part to zero tolerances, this requirement was met if it was specified in the instructions.

Before being drafted into the army in 1941, Yokoi was a tailor. He served in the quartermaster unit in China and was transferred to that island in March 1944, shortly before the fall of Guam. After American troops regained control of Guam, Japanese military authorities assumed him dead and posthumously promoted him to sergeant. On his family's Buddhist altar was installed Memorial plaque, but his parents did not believe that he was dead until his death. Apart from anemia, he was in excellent health. When he was admitted to the hospital, he only asked for “something salty.” He lived without salt for twenty-eight years. He bathed and took drinking water from a small stream, not far from his cave. He dug a hole eight feet deep using an artillery shell casing as a shovel; he made a roof of bamboo and built a drain and latrine.

When the island was captured by the Americans, he was ordered to burn his military uniform, and he and two other soldiers fled to the deserted tip of the island. Yokoi said two other soldiers lived separately and died several years before he was discovered. To have clothes, he stripped the flexible bark from the pago tree, made threads from it and wove them into fabrics on a homemade loom. He then cut the fabric with tailor's scissors, which he still had, and sewed trousers, shirts and jackets. He made needles by breaking copper cartridges and sharpening their fragments. He found an abandoned box of American ammunition and several machine gun shells, which served as vessels for him. He found pieces of rope floating in the river, and on the shore - a piece of fabric, some wire and a plastic box. The wire was used for belt buckles, and he made buttons from plastic. He squeezed oil from the flesh of coconuts and used the shells as cups.

He also learned to light a fire by rubbing sticks and maintained the fire with a coconut fiber wick. The lit wick smoldered for several days, and he fanned it when he needed to light a fire to cook food. Sometimes he ate wild rats, which he caught with homemade traps. He happened to catch deer, and he smoked the meat over his fireplace in a basket-like contraption he invented to reduce the amount of smoke coming out of his ventilation shaft. He caught freshwater shrimp and fish and managed to grow some vegetables.

One of the strengths of Sony is that the structure of our company is not so rigid that it suffers from the “not invented here” syndrome.

What I mean by this is that it is unwise to do something new and then rest on your laurels. Something must be done to ensure that the new invention brings commercial success, and for this it is necessary to constantly modernize your product and maintain a leading position in the market

In my opinion, Japanese industry made such progress because companies believed that they were far behind. Therefore, they began to study more actively, mastering modern technical techniques and paying “royalties” for imported technology. But what you learn at school becomes useful only when you add something of your own to it and do it yourself

The task that faces all companies, not only ours, is the development of new technologies, new inventions and new products. We will need many new ideas. We will have to connect all our technologies to create the complex systems that will be needed in the future. It will mean big changes. When we created our company, one department made transistors, another made tape recorders, and a third made radio equipment. It won't work like that in the future. We will have to combine all the enormous engineering power of our company and use it as unified system. We are starting to do this now. The approach most companies, including ours, have taken to date has been fine as long as people are happy and as long as each department has its place in the overall balance sheet of the company. But in the future, more flexibility will be needed, and engineers from one department of the company can be brought into work in any other department. Making the best use of your engineers will be the measure of a company's success in the next century. Some of our competitors are starting to have problems now. They will understand that they need to combine their existing independent departments into a single whole, but they will have to figure out how to do this. Solving technology problems will be key to the success of companies around the world in the coming years.

X. Friesewinkel examined companies in the industry using thirty-two indicators and came to the conclusion that there are five main types of firms. For clarity, he called them “proud lions”, “mighty elephants”, “sluggish hippopotamuses”, “cunning foxes” and “ gray mice" We will return to the first three groups a little later. The fate of the “cunning foxes” and “gray mice” is directly related to the problem of specialization of companies. “Cunning foxes” (according to Friesewinkel, “enterprises pursuing a successful niche policy”) will survive the crisis safely. As a rule, each of the “foxes” is a leader in the production of two or three drugs and also has sufficient financial resources. A different future awaits the “gray mice.” For a small or medium-sized company, a low level of specialization in difficult times is disastrous. Without “crown” products, it will immediately face a drop in revenue, and the lack of money, in turn, will deprive it of the chance to develop such products later. “In essence, this business is similar to the life of a mayfly butterfly, which will tremble tomorrow, wondering whether it will remain alive the day after tomorrow,” writes the researcher.

It seems very important to me that when I was young, I was constantly warned: “Don’t think that because you are at the top, you can boss everyone around. You must understand the matter very well before you make decisions and ask others to do something, and also take full responsibility for your decision.” I was taught that it is useless to scold subordinates and look for those to blame when difficulties arise, to look for scapegoats. According to the Japanese way of thinking that I was taught at home, in order to do something that benefits both parties, one must use common motives. Everyone strives for success. When I learned to work with workers, I realized that a manager must cultivate character traits such as patience and sensitivity. You cannot behave selfishly or dishonestly towards people. These concepts became ingrained in me and helped me develop a management philosophy that has served me very well in the past and continues to serve me and my company today.

I was inexperienced and still a little naive, but I had a good head on my shoulders. I considered all the consequences I could imagine, and then I sat down and drew a curve that resembled a skewed letter Y [The story told is an example of A. Morita's intuitively correct approach to problems in the theory of the firm. “Y-shaped curves reflect the typical course of development of many processes in the economy. Thus, an increase in production volume has a positive effect on the company’s affairs (leading to a reduction in labor, material costs, etc.) only up to a certain point, then the process reverses. - Approx. ed.]. I took the price of five thousand receivers as a basis; it became the starting point of the curve. Ten thousand receivers will be sold at a discount, and their price has become the low point of the curve. When ordering thirty thousand, the price began to rise. With an order of fifty thousand, the price of the receiver would be higher than with an order of five thousand, and with orders of one hundred thousand, the price of the receiver would be much higher than with an order of the first five thousand. I know this all sounds strange, but that's what I thought. If we have to double our production capacity to fill an order for one hundred thousand receivers, and if we cannot get a second such order next year, we will find ourselves in a difficult situation, perhaps even going bankrupt, because we will not be able to employ everyone additional workers hired and pay for all new unused production capacity.

In Japan, the greatest economic success as a leader is not achieved by those who fuss around giving away detailed instructions to his subordinates. The most successful people are those who give their subordinates only general directives, instill confidence in their abilities and help them do their jobs well.

In America you can often hear: “There is no time!”, “Do it immediately!”, “He who hesitates has lost!” As a result of one of these emotional outbursts, America became embroiled in the Vietnam War. American politicians argued that the United States should have intervened in the Vietnam War for the sake of world peace. They have lost the ability to see events in the right light. If Americans love something, they will love it too much, and if they hate something, they will often go too far in their hatred. This is what many of its foreign friends think about America

We have a saying that once every seventy days everything changes. This saying encourages us not to rush, not to overreact or too quickly. Between these two approaches - too hasty and too slow - a middle path must be taken.

Many years ago, a European friend told me that if you had the manuscript of a wonderful book and were confident that you could sell a hundred copies of the book, a European publisher would print ninety-nine copies. To print one hundred and one copies, according to my friend, would, according to European standards, be indecent. But here’s how the Japanese would behave in such a situation: we would continue to print this book and sell as many copies as possible. The more copies of this book we produced, the cheaper it would cost, and through advertising and information we would increase demand and provide this book to more and more people.

In theory, there are usually five main components of marketing policy (the so-called “marketing mix”): the product itself to be sold; sales network; advertising; public relations; prices. The experience of the post-war period clearly showed that among these components there are no minor ones.

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Akio Morita SONY MADE IN JAPAN

The formation of a transnational concern (Introductory article)

The book lying before the reader comes from the pen of an outstanding capitalist of our days. The hearing has difficulty reconciling with such a combination of words. An outstanding scientist, an artist or a great politician - all this sounds quite familiar, even if we're talking about about a figure in a Western country. But a talented capitalist... We know the names of architects very poorly modern business and have very little idea of their real functions in the economy. Henry Ford, two or three more entrepreneurs from bygone eras - and that’s practically all. As if bourgeois society could demonstrate its amazing vitality without promoting talented people to positions of production organizers.

The brilliant tandem of Akio Morita, who was responsible for the commercial side of the business, and Masaru Ibuki, the technical genius of the company, turned a small and unknown company into one of the largest transnational corporations in the world. Moreover, their efforts not only created big company, but the company is an innovator. It was the Sony Corporation that was the first to launch a transistor radio into mass production and created the world's first home video recorder. A portable cassette player with headphones - an indispensable attribute of modern youth culture - is also the brainchild of Sony, and first of all A. Morita personally. Together with the Dutch concern Philips, the company developed and introduced a fundamentally new laser sound recording technology, and silver compact discs have already replaced, and in the 90s will finally replace, the usual long-playing records. Finally, in Lately Sony has come closer than any other company to creating high-definition television technology (HDTV), which promises to turn the home screen into a true window to the world.

A. Morita's book is simply interesting to read. But it is also interesting as a document of the era, as a self-portrait of a modern capitalist. And if some features of his activity shock the reader (for example, his dexterity in suppressing a strike and splitting a trade union), while others delight him (for example, his ability to maintain a friendly, purely human atmosphere in the company’s team), then it is not the image that is to blame. The depicted object itself is contradictory - a major entrepreneur of our day.

A few words about the purposes of this introductory article. In the Western literary tradition there is a genre that is almost unknown in our country - the “Success story”. A person who has achieved a lot in life does not write cold, objective memoirs, but tries to show through what qualities he achieved victory. But one can only evaluate what has been done by comparison. Our commentary will be mainly devoted to comparisons: the fate of the Sony Corporation against the backdrop of what usually happens to an average company, and the style of A. Morita as the head of Sony in comparison with common methods of managing capitalist enterprises.

1. Firm and market

How does the modern capitalist market function? What are the conditions in which the Sony company was able to emerge and very successfully - not only for itself, but also for the economy as a whole - to develop its activities? Until relatively recently, this question would have been of interest only to a narrow circle of specialists. Now it has acquired an unexpected poignancy. The prospects for a fundamental change in the structure of the Soviet market force us to take a closer look at the interaction of powerful elements in the Western market: monopoly and competition.

A simplified view of things reduces the market mechanism to one of two extremes: “the dominance of monopolies” or “complete freedom of competition.” Both of these approaches (oddly enough, they are easily combined with each other: the economy is alternately viewed as either purely competitive or monopolized) are unproductive. Moreover, they do not reflect the real situation in modern world. Another thing is even worse. With this direction of research, the most important thing eludes him - the mechanism of coexistence and complementarity of both principles, equally necessary for the current capitalist economy.

In its rapid development, Sony Corporation went through three important stages: small manufacturer, specialized company and a large monopoly. Firms of all these types constantly operate in the capitalist market and perform important functions in it. Let's follow the history of Sony and the demands that the market made of it in each new capacity.

SMALL PRODUCER. The beginning of the Sony company, then still called Tokyo Telecommunications Engineering Corporation, was founded in 1946 by a workshop for remaking radio receivers. Few could foresee the great future of this enterprise, which suffered from a lack of financial resources and did not have attractive products in its production program and constantly fearing being squeezed out of the market by more powerful competitors. Thousands of companies operating in any capitalist country in the field of small business, and to this day exist in such seemingly unenviable conditions.

Akio Morita

MADE IN JAPAN

Formation of a transnational concern

(Introductory article)

The book lying before the reader comes from the pen of an outstanding capitalist of our days. The hearing has difficulty reconciling with such a combination of words. An outstanding scientist, artist or great politician - all this sounds quite familiar, even if we are talking about a figure in a Western country. But a talented capitalist... We know very little about the names of the architects of modern business and have very little idea of their real functions in the economy. Henry Ford, two or three more entrepreneurs from bygone eras - and that’s practically all. As if bourgeois society could demonstrate its amazing vitality without promoting talented people to positions of production organizers.

The brilliant tandem of Akio Morita, who was responsible for the commercial side of the business, and Masaru Ibuki, the technical genius of the company, turned a small and unknown company into one of the largest transnational corporations in the world. Moreover, through their efforts, not just a large company was created, but an innovative company. It was the Sony Corporation that was the first to launch a transistor radio into mass production and created the world's first home video recorder. A portable cassette player with headphones - an indispensable attribute of modern youth culture - is also the brainchild of Sony, and first of all A. Morita personally. Together with the Dutch concern Philips, the company developed and introduced a fundamentally new laser sound recording technology, and silver compact discs have already replaced, and in the 90s will finally replace, the usual long-playing records. Finally, Sony has recently come closer than other companies to creating high-definition television technology (HDTV), which promises to turn the home screen into a true window to the world.

1. Firm and market

A simplified view of things reduces the market mechanism to one of two extremes: “the dominance of monopolies” or “complete freedom of competition.” Both of these approaches (oddly enough, they are easily combined with each other: the economy is alternately viewed as either purely competitive or monopolized) are unproductive. Moreover, they do not reflect the real situation in the modern world. Another thing is even worse. With this direction of research, the most important thing eludes him - the mechanism of coexistence and complementarity of both principles, equally necessary for the current capitalist economy.

In its rapid development, Sony Corporation went through three important stages: a small manufacturer, a specialized company and a large monopoly. Firms of all these types constantly operate in the capitalist market and perform important functions in it. Let's follow the history of Sony and the demands that the market made of it in each new capacity.

SMALL PRODUCER. The beginning of the Sony company, then still called Tokyo Telecommunications Engineering Corporation, was founded in 1946 by a workshop for remaking radio receivers. Few could foresee the great future of this enterprise, which suffered from a lack of financial resources, did not have attractive products in its production program and was constantly afraid of being forced out of the market by more powerful competitors. Thousands of companies operating in any capitalist country in the field of small business still exist in such seemingly unenviable conditions.

Nevertheless, their number is not decreasing, and in recent years has even been growing.

If we try to briefly convey the contents of the table. 1, then it comes down to demonstrating the enormous role of small business. It is widely known that monopolies do not completely displace small enterprises. But the numbers say more. Namely, that small enterprises, at least in purely quantitative terms, represent the largest sector of the economy. Indeed, from the data in the table it follows that in most capitalist countries at least half of all employees work in small and tiny enterprises. For some countries this share is significantly higher. So, in the homeland of Sony - in ultra-modern Japan - half of all workers are employed in the smallest firms alone, and small and tiny enterprises together provide employment to three-quarters of the Japanese.

Table I

The smallest are firms with the number of employees from 1 to 19 people, small - from 20 to 99, medium - from 100 to 499, large - more than 500. In the UK and Italy, the first two categories include firms with 1-24 and 24–, respectively. 99, 1–9 and 9–99 occupied.

Source: Midland Bank Review, Spring 1987, p. 17.

The role of small business is great not only quantitatively, but also functionally, that is, in terms of the tasks that it solves in the economy. Unfortunately, as the Soviet economist A. N. Tkachenko rightly notes, “in the available economic literature, all small companies operating in the field of material production are often considered exclusively as an appendage of monopolies, completely and entirely dependent on the interests and goals of the largest commercial and industrial corporations. Such an opinion, which has already become commonplace, for some reason avoided the need for strict factual proof, in practice it is difficult to reconcile with current realities.” Of course, dependent small businesses exist (estimated at about 1/3 and, apparently, no more than 1/2 of all small firms). But this does not mean that one can neglect the role of independent small companies or believe that dependent ones are absolutely loyal to their “suzerains.” In our opinion, small firms form a kind of foundation on which higher “floors” of the economy grow and which largely predetermines the architecture of the building. First of all, this applies to competitive relations in the economy. Cruel for small businesses competitive fight is a natural state, directly resulting from its distinctive properties. The fact is that strengths small companies are associated with their ability to respond almost instantly to market demands and take into account the specific needs of a particular consumer. This is a kind of competition in flexibility, taking place under conditions of strict selection. In the UK, for example, in the first half of the 1980s, eleven percent of all registered firms ceased to exist each year. If we consider that the majority of liquidated companies are small, it is easy to calculate that in five to seven years the entire population of small companies is almost completely renewed.

For an individual small company, a collision with a monopoly most often ends in death, the famous “strangulation of the outsider.” In the relationship between all small businesses and large capital, the roles are distributed differently. Small firms are often the attackers. Any omission in the production program of a leading corporation threatens the emergence of a competitor who will satisfy the corresponding need. If the giant does not change his behavior, the newly-minted rival will grow and may turn into a real danger.

Akio Morita

Made in Japan

Formation of a transnational concern

(Introductory article)

The book lying before the reader comes from the pen of an outstanding capitalist of our days. The hearing has difficulty reconciling with such a combination of words. An outstanding scientist, artist or great politician - all this sounds quite familiar, even if we are talking about a figure in a Western country. But a talented capitalist... We know very little about the names of the architects of modern business and have very little idea of their real functions in the economy. Henry Ford, two or three more entrepreneurs from bygone eras - and that’s practically all. As if bourgeois society could demonstrate its amazing vitality without promoting talented people to positions of production organizers.

The brilliant tandem of Akio Morita, who was responsible for the commercial side of the business, and Masaru Ibuki, the technical genius of the company, turned a small and unknown company into one of the largest transnational corporations in the world. Moreover, through their efforts, not just a large company was created, but an innovative company. It was the Sony Corporation that was the first to launch a transistor radio into mass production and created the world's first home video recorder. A portable cassette player with headphones - an indispensable attribute of modern youth culture - is also the brainchild of Sony, and first of all A. Morita personally. Together with the Dutch concern Philips, the company developed and introduced a fundamentally new laser sound recording technology, and silver compact discs have already replaced, and in the 90s will finally replace, the usual long-playing records. Finally, Sony has recently come closer than other companies to creating high-definition television technology (HDTV), which promises to turn the home screen into a true window to the world.

1. Firm and market

A simplified view of things reduces the market mechanism to one of two extremes: “the dominance of monopolies” or “complete freedom of competition.” Both of these approaches (oddly enough, they are easily combined with each other: the economy is alternately viewed as either purely competitive or monopolized) are unproductive. Moreover, they do not reflect the real situation in the modern world. Another thing is even worse. With this direction of research, the most important thing eludes him - the mechanism of coexistence and complementarity of both principles, equally necessary for the current capitalist economy.

SMALL PRODUCER. The beginning of the Sony company, then still called Tokyo Telecommunications Engineering Corporation, was founded in 1946 by a workshop for remaking radio receivers. Few could foresee the great future of this enterprise, which suffered from a lack of financial resources, did not have attractive products in its production program and was constantly afraid of being forced out of the market by more powerful competitors. Thousands of companies operating in any capitalist country in the field of small business still exist in such seemingly unenviable conditions.

Nevertheless, their number is not decreasing, and in recent years has even been growing.

Table I

Source: Midland Bank Review, Spring 1987, p. 17.

The role of small business is great not only quantitatively, but also functionally, that is, in terms of the tasks that it solves in the economy. Unfortunately, as the Soviet economist A. N. Tkachenko rightly notes, “in the available economic literature, all small companies operating in the field of material production are often considered exclusively as an appendage of monopolies, completely and entirely dependent on the interests and goals of the largest commercial and industrial corporations. Such an opinion, which has already become commonplace, for some reason avoided the need for strict factual proof, in practice it is difficult to reconcile with current realities.” Of course, dependent small businesses exist (estimated at about 1/3 and, apparently, no more than 1/2 of all small firms). But this does not mean that one can neglect the role of independent small companies or believe that dependent ones are absolutely loyal to their “suzerains.” In our opinion, small firms form a kind of foundation on which higher “floors” of the economy grow and which largely predetermines the architecture of the building. First of all, this applies to competitive relations in the economy. For small business, fierce competition is a natural state, directly resulting from its distinctive properties. The fact is that the strengths of small companies are associated with their ability to respond almost instantly to market demands and take into account the specific needs of a particular consumer. This is a kind of competition in flexibility, taking place under conditions of strict selection. In the UK, for example, in the first half of the 1980s, eleven percent of all registered firms ceased to exist each year. If we consider that the majority of liquidated companies are small, it is easy to calculate that in five to seven years the entire population of small companies is almost completely renewed.

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Introduction

War Salvation and hope

Chapter 1

War
Salvation and hope