Executive Times

 

 

 

 

 

2005 Book Reviews

 

Confronting Reality: Doing What Matters to Get Things Right by Larry Bossidy and Ram Charan

 

Rating: (Highly Recommended)

 

 

 

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Models

 

I’m a sucker when it comes to structure. I’m willing to apply a discipline to gain greater understanding, to use a model to gain understanding. For me, Larry Bossidy and Ram Charan’s new book, Confronting Reality, presents a model well worth trying. The authors implore executives to use a business model framework consisting of three interlocking components: external realities, internal processes, and financial targets. A realistic and ruthless analysis of all three elements will lead to business success. By following their proposed methodology, Bossidy and Charan point out that executives can uncover the difference between cyclical and secular changes.

 

Here’s an excerpt, from the beginning of Chapter 3, “Redefining the Basics of Management,” pp. 59-67:

 

Every age of structural change redefines management theory and practice. The post—World War II era, in which modern management theory took shape, was an epic seller’s market, driven by pent-up demand and an explosion of a new middle class. Production people and accountants shared the driver’s seat as managers focused on achieving ever-greater economies of scale through mass production. They ruled over a growing new breed of professional general managers—people who (so it was believed) could run any kind of business, and sell to anyone through ingenious new tools of marketing.

 

If one CEO can be said to exemplify the era, it would be the legendary Alfred P. Sloan, who made General Motors the world’s largest and most powerful company. Sloan not only brought modern marketing to the automotive industry (“a car for every purse and purpose”) but systematically and rigorously figured out how to organize a large business enterprise with diverse product lines and multiple customer segments. He pioneered the art of balancing decentralized operations with centralized financial controls, which became the model for many other companies, such as General Electric, as they got bigger. Sloan’s innovations in organizational structure and processes can still be seen in large-business organizations across the globe.

 

From the late 1960s through the 1980s, acquisition and dealmaking became a major activity of corporate America. Especially during the grim seventies, with slow economic growth, soaring inflation, and interest rates that rose into the teens, there didn’t seem to be much else to do. Merger mania began with a wave of companies called conglomerates—caricatures both of Sloan’s model and the concept of the professional general manager. Most, like ITT, Litton Industries, Textron, and W. R. Grace, were assemblers of wildly diverse businesses; the idea was that cyclical ups and downs in the various industries would offset each other, providing a company as a whole with consistent, long-term growth in earnings per share.

 

If good professional managers could manage any type of business, why not? The great skill of top management was in crunching numbers and doing deals to yield the best financial results. Headquarters mainly contributed financial expertise; if a business delivered the numbers, it was left alone. If not, staff people were sent in to whip them into shape or replace them. Wall Street loved the idea of these conglomerates. It boosted their stock prices and price/earnings ratios; the higher valuations, in turn, helped them to acquire more and more companies.

 

The era’s iconic CEO was Harold S. Geneen, the unrelenting number-cruncher who built ITT from a $750 million telecommunications company largely operating outside the United States into an $18 billion company with 250 profit centers, operating in more than twenty industries. But like conglomeration itself, ITT was a bad idea whose time came and went. Eventually it withered. Many businesses were sold off, and only a small portion of the original conglomerate remains today.

Through the 1980s it was back to basics. Acquisition took a new turn: corporate raiders such as Boone Pickens and Carl Icahn went after underperforming companies and installed executives who could straighten them out. “As a management fad they were never all that widespread, but they didn’t have to be,” noted Fortune magazine, “just as executing one mutineer can sober up a whole boatload of sailors, a few hostile takeovers left vast swaths of the American CEO class in mortal dread of their secretary’s saying, ‘Mr. Pickens on line one.’”

Further sobriety was supplied by the invasion of Japanese manufacturers. They had been quietly building a manufacturing powerhouse by focusing on low cost, quality, productivity, and faster cycle time. Their operational expertise won them market share and high marks for customer satisfaction in some of America’s and Europe’s largest and most prominent industries, including autos, machine tools, and consumer electronics. It was the first time a global competitor had hit America’s biggest companies in the belly.

The rise of Japanese companies and relative decline of U.S. and European stalwarts was every bit as controversial as the outsourcing of jobs is today. It provoked public fury and charges of unfair trade practices, people driving Japanese cars were excoriated as unpatriotic. But the popularity of Japanese products forced U.S. companies to face reality and hunker down. Business leaders learned to focus on operational excellence. They adopted new manufacturing processes, laid off unneeded workers, and slashed their swollen middle-management bureaucracies. Concomitantly, far-sighted leaders began to dismantle the traditional command-and-control management model, pushing responsibility farther down in the ranks. Many built multinational organizations to compete in markets abroad.

 

GE’s Jack Welch symbolized the age, transforming an uninspiring diversified industrial giant into a tightly organized growth machine and management model. Measured by its market capitalization, GE during Welch’s tenure became the world’s most valuable company.

 

The mid-nineties brought a boom of immense scale and scope, fueled by technology, rising productivity, boundless optimism, and unprecedented growth of risk capital driven by an ever-expanding stock market. New laws governing retirement plans funneled huge amounts of middle-income money into mutual funds for the first time. Also for the first time, individual investors became a major force. The booming stock market meant that large funds could invest hundreds of millions of dollars in enterprises that ultimately failed, often without significant effect on the investor. It also meant that technology companies could attract talented young knowledge workers by paying them with liberal awards of stock options. Looser antitrust enforcement allowed industries to consolidate, turning the consolidators into growth stocks. Eager for productivity gains, companies spent heavily on computers and related new information technologies: by 2000, IT spending accounted for about half of U.S. companies’ capital expenditures.

Four mantras dominated management thinking during the nineties: innovation in business practices, productivity, speed, and creation of shareholder value. All were fine ideas, and they increased shareholder value and produced more wealth for more people than any previous era. But unintended consequences eventually undermined them.

Easy money drove both real and imaginary innovation, real in the sense of companies like Microsoft and eBay, imaginary in the sense of Enron and WorldCom. The obsessive pursuit of shareholder value distorted financial goals and compensation metrics of many companies. It also produced a generation of leaders who were essentially high-ranking financial public relations people, notable mostly for their skill at persuading Wall Street of their abilities to generate double-digit growth. And some new practices that arose because they ostensibly were in tune with the New Economy—such as valuing companies based on their revenues rather than on the money they make—proved to be fallacious.

Bill Gates is the iconic figure of the 1990s. Call him the father of speed: more than anyone else, Gates made the computer a tool for everyman, laying the foundation for the age of information technology. His unique business model helped to change the game from one dominated by a few players to a vast open market space that brought ever-expanding choices and ever-falling prices. (You’ll find the details in Chapter 5.)

 

What Federal Reserve chairman Alan Greenspan called “irrational exuberance” came to an abrupt end when the stock market bubble burst. Now we are in a new era of structural change. It is at least as distinct and significant as the previous four. And more than any of them, it demands fundamental changes in the way leaders run their businesses.

To take just one example, it’s almost impossible to overstate the magnitude of the changes being wrought by information technology. IT’s impact may seem abstract when, say, you read about its contribution to productivity growth. It gets real when you look at a room full of people with lap-tops, and later see one of them sitting in a Starbucks connected to the flow of business by Wi-Fi. The point is not just that she’s working harder and longer than ever but that she could be communicating with someone in India, China, or the Czech Republic. That’s unprecedented. When ideas are instantly communicated and plans instantly executed through software that lets people collaborate across oceans, worldwide business integration can only become tighter and more widespread. Change can only become more rapid, competition more intense, and time to market more critical.

 

PHARMA AT A CROSSROADS

 

Past success has never guaranteed future success: it’s an old adage, and never more true than now. Too much can change too quickly. Even powerful and successful businesses—or whole industries—can be battered or swamped by the storms of change.

 

What industry would seem to have a brighter future than pharmaceuticals, given aging populations and the growing body of knowledge about the human body? But today the pharmaceutical industry is at a critical crossroads as a result of worldwide competition, new technology, and spiraling health-care costs that have generated public anger over drug prices and portend increasing government involvement iii the industry’s future.

 

For more than two decades, pharma was a dynamic moneymaking machine without peer. Between 1980 and 2000, worldwide sales rose from $22 billion to $149 billion. With estimated operating income typically in the 20 percent neighborhood, profits soared. During the nineties, the market caps of the ten biggest companies expanded by $1 trillion. Everyone loved pharma—investors for the double-digit returns, the public for the stream of blockbuster drugs that made people’s lives better and longer, not to mention the professionals and managers who worked in the industry.

 

The industry’s business model was that of a highly differentiated, high-margin producer. Years of intensive research produced such drugs as Wamer-Lambert’s Lipitor, Pfizer’s Viagra, and Merck’s Vioxx, and the high profits from those monster successes in turn drove more research. In many ways pharma resembled the movie business, with enormous up-front development expenses, numerous failures, and the occasional big hit that carried everything.

 

Margins in the industry are still lush by anybody’s standards, but they are under assault from almost every quarter. Several factors have conspired to change the landscape. For one, product life cycles are shorter. In the boom years, drug-makers could count on long periods of patent protection— well beyond the decades-long expiration dates—by stretching and extending the patents with small differentiations. But regulators have become far more willing to open the doors to competition sooner, from both generics and so-called branded generics that deliver similar pharmaceutical properties with minor variations that skirt the patents.

 

At the same time, more and more drugs under development fail to make it to the marketplace. One reason is that the industry has already hit the easy targets. The big research challenges that remain, such as diabetes, depression, and various forms of cancer, are more complex.

 

The new competitive intensity has raised marketing expenses and has begun to compress margins. It has also led some drug companies to push the envelope in their marketing practices. State attorneys general, for example, have charged numerous drugmakers with billing governments at higher prices than the ones they charge doctors. And, of course, the price of drugs has become an immense political issue. The old pricing model depends on a tiered system, with the highest prices paid by U.S. consumers and lower prices paid elsewhere by public health systems that bargain prices down. The model worked well when relatively affluent Americans were willing to pay the higher prices. But with medical costs rising sharply across the board, Americans have lost their tolerance for the system. Imports of less expensive drugs, mainly from Canada, are now estimated to account for up to 2 percent of the U.S. market. Despite efforts to slow these imports, they are certain to keep growing.

 

The industry has tried to strengthen itself with mergers and cost cutting, and by reshaping its research organizations. While consolidation has helped a few companies, larger scale by itself doesn’t confront the structural issues facing pharma. The moneymaking potential from licensed drugs, partnerships, and over-the-counter markets is a far cry from the lavish profit streams of the blockbuster era.

 

Unlike such structurally defective industries as airlines or commodity chemicals, the drug industry still has a world of opportunity. Aging populations and advances in science should guarantee both growing demand and supply. Most experts think the future lies increasingly in drugs produced through genomics, or targeted to an individual’s DNA. But finding the right compounds is an immense and costly task. And gene-based drugs are typically aimed at highly specific conditions, for which the market is measured not in millions of people but in tens of thousands with particular genetic flaws.

 

Pharma’s next era will almost certainly look different from its past one, with lower growth and lower margins, requiring changes in product development, cost structure, and marketing. In fact, what the pharmaceutical industry needs is a new business model. As we will show in the next chapter, only with an integrated analysis of their external environment, their financial target, and their internal activities can this (or any) industry successfully chart a new course and realize the substantial opportunities that remain.

 

The examples and stories in Confronting Reality reinforce the key messages, as does the credibility Bossidy and Charan have achieved from their past successes. There’s not much that’s new or faddish in this book, and they make it all sound simpler than it is. Executives who like structure or discipline or models will love Confronting Reality and can push copies under the noses of colleagues who prefer a more laid back, rationalizing approach to business.

Steve Hopkins, February 25, 2005

 

 

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The recommendation rating for this book appeared

 in the March 2005 issue of Executive Times

 

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