Leslie Hannah, an eminent business historian, has shown how the ‘rationalisation’ of industry, which was favoured by the British Government (represented by the Bank of England), set the stage for the new ‘corporate economy’ which would characterise Britain for decades. The 1920s saw the creation by merger of ICI (chemicals), the Distillers Company (Scotch whisky) and Unilever (soap and margarine). A similar wave of mergers in Germany established IG Farben and Vereinigte Stahlwerke as the dominant chemical and steel producers respectively. (Both these companies were dissolved by the victorious Allies in 1945.)

For Penrose, the firm was defined not by the assets it owned or the contracts it made but by its capabilities and its ability to deploy those capabilities in productive services: ‘All the evidence we have indicates that the growth of firms is connected with the attempts of a particular group of people to do something.’ Perhaps that seems obvious. But her emphasis

on ‘the group’ recognises the centrally cooperative nature of business activity, and her identification of purpose – ‘to do something’ – establishes its problem-related focus.

These hollow corporations share the characteristic that the activities of the business have been pared down to the single link in the chain of production at which the corporation holds a distinctive capability and enjoys a competitive advantage. Richard Langlois, a business historian, identifies this as a key reason for the change in the corporate landscape, enabled by the growth of ‘market-supporting institutions’ which enabled entrepreneurs to easily access support for business functions where they didn’t have a comparative advantage. If the assembly line was the defining innovation in business method of twentieth-century manufacturing activity, the hollow corporation may be the defining innovation in business method of twenty-first-century digital activity.

And this story repeats itself through the history of management science; almost every classic of the literature seems to have described a way of adapting systems to a more complicated world, and then to have become obsolete itself. If you look past the slogans and think about what things like ‘management by objectives’, ‘focus on core competences’ and so on actually mean, they are all different ways of advising executives to restructure their businesses so that they don’t generate complexity faster than it can be managed.

There are a number of models, most of them ignored for decades, in which the corporate sector provides a stabilising function, insuring the working class against fluctuations in the business cycle, rather than expecting them to soak up the volatility.

The intriguing thing is that Simon and Galbraith didn’t write polemics to the effect that this was how corporations should behave — they just described what was in front of them at the time. Before Milton Friedman’s essay, lots of people assumed that this was just naturally the way things would tend. Without the Friedman fiction by, without very great re-engineering of the systems of corporate finance, the industrial economy might have just gone on and developed into a technostructure.

Maybe they were right? It would certainly be good if they were, because that might indicate a much easier path to defuse the immediate source of crisis. If the problem with the modern corporation is the result of the capitalist counter-revolution against the managerial class, we just need to change the terms of the battle.