My Heart's in Accra

Ethan Zuckerman's musings on Africa, international development
and hacking the media.

04/23/2007 (10:26 am)

Marc Levinson’s “The Box”

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There’s a lot of great books you can read if you’d like a history of how the Internet has changed the world of communications. If you’d like to know how a much more significant revolution transformed how we move atoms around the world, your options are much more limited. Frankly, shipping containers just aren’t as sexy as TCP/IP packets, though they’re lots more important. The internet may be changing how we work and play, but the rise of container shipping has changed the balance of world trade, rewritten the rules of modern manufacturing and transformed port and manufacturing cities around the world.

Marc Levinson, with his book “The Box“, is an awfully good guide to this transformation. An economist and former finance editor of The Economist, Levinson understands that a story about metal boxes, standardization and labor unions needs a character for the reader to follow. Fortunately, Malcolm McLean, the father of container shipping, was a character.

McLean was a trucker, a self-made magnate who turned a single gas station into a fleet of hundreds of trucks hauling cigarettes and textiles from North Carolina to the northeast. MacLean had a gift for making money in highly regulated commodity industries, as trucking was immediately post-WWII. He bought or leased routes from other truckers, switched his fleet from gasoline to diesel, negotiated fuel discounts with stations along their routes. He cut costs relentlessly, massively leveraged his assets and built a remarkable company by the mid-1950s.

The key to McLean’s success was his ability to think in terms of large systems – he wasn’t concerned with making trucking more profitable, he was focused on the whole world of shipping. McLean saw an opportunity to purchase war-surplus cargo ships from the US government and undercut railroad prices with a combination of trucking and shipping between Houston and Atlantic coast ports. Cutting costs as always, McLean realized that the wheels on his truck trailers were wasted space, so he hired a leading truck trailer engineer to build stackable containers which could be efficiently packed onto ships and placed onto truck chassis.

Levinson weaves the story of McLean’s creativity with the recalcitrance of the shipping industry, and especially of longshoremen’s unions. Longshoremen had one of the most flexible – and most dangerous – jobs in the world at the end of WWII. In the world of “breakbulk” shipping, they had a critical and highly skilled job, fitting various commodities into the hulls of ships for safe transport. The unions recognized that containers were a threat, but it would have been hard for them to understand just how profound the transformation would be. Unions negotiated compensation for handling containers, and makework jobs, ensuring that 22 men would work a hatch of a ship, despite the fact that only eight were required to load and unload containers.

The struggles over the size of work gangs hid a much larger truth: containerization was making old ports like New York and San Francisco obsolete. Huge warehouses for goods weren’t neccesary – storing goods in sealed containers was safer than stashing them in warehouses, and shippers discovered that pilferage of their goods went down when they moved to using containers. But new ports needed huge amounts of space for trucks to load these containers, and expensive investments in cranes to load containers efficiently. The ports that made these investments – Oakland, Newark/Elizabeth, Charleston, Felixtowe – stole traffic from cities that weren’t wise enough to make these investments.

Levinson is especially gifted in helping readers see the ripple effects of these changes. The overall reduction in shipping costs reduces the competitive advantage factories located near ports historically had – as container ships began calling at Newark instead of at New York City’s crowded docks, the waterfront factories were suddenly at a disadvantage, which helped quickly transform the industrial character of the city. Once containerships became predictable enough that factories could expect shipments to arrive within 24 hours of their promised date, they were able to adopt the “just in time” techniques used by companies like Toyota, keeping a very light inventory and relying on suppliers to deliver components days before the final product was assembled. Levinson points out that 75% of the cargo carried in containers today isn’t finished products, but are “intermediate goods”, produced by one factory as an input for another factory.

This development in turn has rocked the world of manufacturing as a whole. Before the dramatic drop in the cost of shipping, it made sense for manufacturers to produce as much of their own components in their own factories, a model referred to as “vertical integration”. Now one factory can produce nothing but hair for Barbie dolls, while another produces skin-colored plastic, another molds the plastic and yet another assembles finished dolls. When McLean’s containers stop moving, so do the factories – in the days after 9/11, when border controls slowed the ports, US auto manufacturers found themselves shutting down production within three days due to lack of components.

Malcolm Gladwell, in reviewing Michael Lewis’s “The Blind Side” – the story of a disadvantaged young athlete taken in by a wealthy family and helped to prepare for a college football career – introduces the idea of “degree of difficulty“. “The Blind Side” isn’t Lewis’s best book, but he gets tremendous credit for telling a story that’s extremely difficult to tell, as it features a main character who’s pathologically unwilling to talk about his past. Levinson deserves similar credit here – it would be a stretch to say that he’s made the Materials Handling Sectional Committee 5′s role in setting common standards for container size a pageturner, but it’s a much better read than you’d expect. And for anyone who’s concerned with how globalization actually works – the nitty-gritty of the systems that have changed how we eat, shop, work and build – “The Box” is a great starting point.


An excellent, detailed review of Levinson’s book, with some useful critique of the economics in the book, by William Sjostrom at EH.net. An interview with Levinson from Ann Grackin.

04/23/2007 (12:17 am)

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04/21/2007 (12:18 am)

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04/20/2007 (3:30 pm)

Where I work these days.

Filed under: Global Voices,Personal ::

I had a meeting yesterday morning with friends who run a direct marketing company in Williamstown, MA. Their offices are across the street from the building where we founded Tripod, next to the mill where we relocated a few years later. Walking me out to my truck, my friend said, “I can walk to work. I can walk to my lawyer. I can walk to my accountant. I can walk to my parent’s house. Hard to get better than that.”

That used to be my life. A year into Tripod, I was sharing a house with half a dozen of my coworkers, less than a mile from our office. We all went to the same half dozen restaurants, the two movie theatres, the bowling alley. We all drank in the same bar, watched baseball games at Wahconah Park in Pittsfield. Our hiring process was designed to find people we wanted to be both our coworkers and our drinking buddies. There wasn’t much distinction between work life and social life – I didn’t have a social life independent of my work friends for those five years.

When I founded Geekcorps, I couldn’t see any reason to stray from the model. We rented space in MassMoCA, an overachieving art museum and performance space that had transfored the defunct Sprague Electric plant in North Adams into something rich and strange. My colleagues this time around were grownups, with houses and kids, but some of the vibe was the same. My lawyer was on the board of the company, and he and my late mentor Dick Sabot held our board meetings in a 250-year old general store walking distance from both of their houses. Our focus was global, but the people I worked with every day were very, very local.

My life now couldn’t be much more different. I live over 150 miles from my “office“, and I consider myself lucky if I make it in to work once a week. About half of the time, I’m on the road – the other half of the time, I work in my home office, a reclaimed landing at the top of a flight of stairs to the attic. I keep binoculars on my desk so I can watch the porcupines climb the trees and the insomniac owls.

This time around, my coworkers are all over the world. We had a meeting today over IRC, the medium we use for almost all our realtime professional interactions. My colleagues were in Hong Kong, Oakland, Port of Spain, the Hague and Montreal. One woke up to make the meeting, another went to bed as soon as we logged off. Weeks will go by where I don’t actually speak to any of the people I work with, but it’s rare that ten minutes pass without an IM, an email or blogpost.

Part of me – a big part – thinks that businesses can’t and shouldn’t work this way. If we’re going to trust each other, rely on each other’s judgement, read each other’s moods, we need to know each other. The reason Global Voices holds an annual meeting isn’t primarily to make decisions or plan strategy – it’s so we have an excuse to wander through strange cities together, share cab rides, ethnic food and rounds of drinks. We get to know each other at an express pace, squeezing in a year’s worth of water cooler conversations in an hour-long walk through a flea market or a cab ride to the airport.

I miss working with my neighbors. When I find myself talking to the cat too often, I head to Williamstown and work at the coffeeshop where there’s a good chance that I know half a dozen of the other laptop-toters camped out at cafe tables. I wonder sometimes if it’s time to turn from global to local again, rent a corner of a mill and start working with the people I live with.

But working this new way means that I get to work with some of the most remarkable people on the globe, and that none of them have to leave their homes, their families and their lives so we can work together. Remarkable people pass through the Berkshires every day, and some even settle down and stay a while, but it’s hard to imagine a physical space anywhere in the world where I could share my office with Tunisian human rights activists, Tanzanian linguists, Bahraini journalists and Trinidadian radio producers. (London, maybe, or New York. But I bet it’s rarer than you think.)

There are half a dozen photos pinned up over my desk. Half are pictures of people I used to work with in offices we used to share. What photos will I pin up from Global Voices? Bloggers squeezing into a group shot in Delhi after the 2006 summit? Or my computer monitor, next to a window overlooking birch trees and Onota Lake?

04/20/2007 (12:18 am)

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04/19/2007 (12:18 am)

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04/18/2007 (2:14 pm)

Twelve great talks to watch, and no excuses for being bored. (Or boring.)

I spent the last four days at a series of meetings for the Open Society Institute, a foundation I advise and serve on a sub-board for. The meetings were off-blog, but I can share one comment on the challenges facing newspapers, from the brilliant Thai journalist Kavi Chongkittavorn from Mr. Soros himself: “Journalists and prostitutes face the same challege: competition from amateurs.” (Friends who were in the meeting with me tell me I’m misremembering – Kavi had most of the good quips in the meeting, but Mr. Soros used this as his parting line…) I can’t wait for the next opportunity to use that quote in a speech…

One of my friends from OSI’s Information Program mentioned his excitement that the TED conference had started putting videos of talks from the last two conferences online, and asked me to recommend my favorites. By the time I got home and online, my twinblogger (a reference to our tendency to blog conferences in tandem) Bruno Giussani had posted a comprehensive guide to great talks, not just on the TED website, but from Pop!Tech and LIFT as well. He correctly identifies this is a new trend in operating conferences, an important one. Very, very few people are able to attend these gatherings – putting the talks online lets thousands of times as many people hear the ideas these remarkable speakers have to share.

So here are some of my top picks from TED and Pop!Tech, the two conferences I’ve been attending and blogging the past two years:

Hans Rosling is probably the best speaker on international development issues I’ve ever seen. He’s done remarkable work with statistics, helping people visualize long-term changes in international development in a historical and global context. He’s given two TED talks – the first is available here. I’m waiting patiently for this year’s talk, which concluded with Rosling swallowing a sword.

On the subject of development economics, Emily Oster stole this year’s TED (for me, at least) with a virtuoso talk on new research she’s done on the effectiveness of AIDS prevention strategies in Uganda. She ends up arguing that the “success” of the abstinence-focused strategies of the Ugandan government had far more to do with external factors – a temporary decrease in international trade – than to these prevention efforts. Her talk – or at least my notes on it – have generated some very critical comments over at Worldchanging.com. (The talk’s not up yet. Sorry about that – I’ll add a link when it’s available.)

Giving a much more personal story of the impact of HIV in an African context was Zinhle Thabethe’s speech at Pop!Tech in October 2006. She’s the director of the Sinikithemba Choir, a group of HIV-positive singers based in Durban who use music to educate communities about AIDS. Her story makes clear the agonizing choices individuals face when local health systems can’t provide anti-retroviral drugs for everyone in a nation – she’s surviving AIDS, but watches her brother die, unable to share her drugs and save him.

If it were socially acceptable to follow scientists around the world, hanging on their every word, as some people follow rock bands around the world, I’d be an Amy Smith groupie. Dr. Smith’s TED talk focuses on “carbon macrotubes” – charcoal, in other words – and the tremendous health importance of producing sustainable, clean-burning cooking fuel for the developing world.

I missed Iqbal Qadir’s talk at TED last year, but I’ve had the pleasure of sharing the stage with him at the PUSH conference two years back. His realization that mobile phones could be income-generating devices for the very poor in Bangladesh is the sort of big idea that can transform entire economies. Iqbal is one of the very best people to listen to in sorting fact from fiction in the whole “fortune at the bottom of the pyramid” set of ideas.

I didn’t expect to like Tom Barnett when I heard him speak at Pop!Tech. He’s got the bearing and delivery of a military man, the product of years of briefing generals in the Pentagon on the importance of transforming the US military. But he’s got an incredibly broad understanding of global security issues, failed and failing states, and the role that humanitarians and aid workers have to play in conflict situations. I came away from his first talk at Pop!Tech with dozens of questions and ideas, and his second talk opened as many new questions for me as it answered.

If you care about free speech, you need to listen to my friend Sasa Vucinic, the founder of the Media Loan Development Fund. Sasa’s firm finances newspapers, radio, television and interactive media in places that wouldn’t otherwise have access to a free press. He does it well enough that MDLF has been able to list on an european stock exchange, a remarkable achievement for a social venturing organization. The secret is his realization that for media to be truly independent, it needs to be fiscally sustainable… something I keep reminding myself as I write endless grant requests for Global Voices.

James Nachtwey was one of this year’s TED prize recipients, and bloggers are already buzzing about the “secret project” he’s planning on taking on with TED’s support. His images of conflict areas were some of the most arresting I’ve ever seen. His talk is almost too intense to watch – there’s simply too many searing images to digest in a very short period of time. the only other photographer who’s affected me this way in recent memory is my friend Ed Burtynsky, whose images of human impact on the earth also sear their way into your head. (Ed recieved the TED prize a year before Nachtwey and has used the prize to help support Worldchanging.com, where I serve on the board of directors.)

To end this top ten on a positive, hopeful note: Majora Carter, the director of Sustainable South Bronx, brought the house down last year at TED when she talked about greening the ghetto, coining the phrase “Green is the new black“. Her group has done remarkable work demonstrating that environmental and social justice are tightly linked, and in challenging the good and the great (including Al Gore) to focus closer to home in their attempts to heal and transform the world.

If that top ten leaves you hungry for more, there’s lots more on both sites. Or if you just need something to clear your head, let me point you to two of the smartest and funniest men on the Internet, Ze Frank and Jonathan Coulton. Both have taken the radical step of putting their work directly onto the web at an alarming pace, Ze with a year-long daily podcast, and Jonathan with a new song written and recorded every week over the course of a year. They’re two of the bravest and funniest guys I know, and two guys I’m very happy to have discovered through the moving circus of the conference scene.

04/18/2007 (12:18 am)

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04/17/2007 (1:14 pm)

Advice for travelers to Accra

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A friend from the Czech Republic emailed me the other day to ask for advice on what to see and do in Accra. I realized that I’d answered a similar question for Xeni Jardin a couple of weeks ago and was statistically likely to face this question again in a few months, at maximum. So I figured I’d offer a blogpost on what to see and do in Accra, knowing that by posting in this fashion, I’ll rapidly be corrected, augmented and generally improved by my Ghanaian and Ghanaphile readers. Please chime in on the comments to let me know what I missed and what I got wrong.

Where to stay
There’s basically three classes of hotels in Accra. The top-end hotels, like La Palm and Labadi Beach, cater primarily to people working on international aid contracts, the UN or other multinational entities. They’re very nice, but they’re quite expensive if your employer hasn’t negotiated a special US government/EU/UN rate. (I could stay in Labadi or La Palm for about $110 a night if I was on US government business, but it was about $300 otherwise.) These places are very comfortable and have nice swimming pools (and very depressing casinos), but are quite far from downtown and minimize your chances of meeting actual Ghanaians (or Ghanaians not employed in the hositality industry.)

On the low end, there are countless inexpensive hotels that cater to backpackers and to Ghanaian travellers, many of these in the Nkrumah Circle area. These places can be under $20 a night, but you need to make sure your room includes a fan and mosquito netting, or you could be in for a very, very long night. If you’re travelling with computers or other expensive gear, you also may want to be very careful about leaving gadgets in your room when you’re not there…

There’s a small number of hotels that occupy the middleground between opulence and backpackerdom. My favorite of the lot is Frankie’s on Cantonments Road in Osu. The ground floor of Frankie’s is an ice cream parlor, the first floor has a pretty good restaurant with the best pancakes in town. And the top two floors have basic but clean – and very safe – rooms. I’m partial to the windowless single rooms, which are quite a bit cheaper than the doubles which face the road. Accra is so overwhelming to the senses that having a white, tiled room that looks a bit like a sensory deprivation chamber can be a good thing. The listed room prices at Frankie’s aren’t all that cheap, but I’ve found you can often get a deal if you stay a couple of days, pay cash and negotiate well. And breakfast is included, which can be a real highlight, especially if you order the crossaints.

Other hotels in the mystical middle tier include Korkdam and Gye Nyame, both in the Ring Road area between Sankara Circle and Nkrumah. La Paloma also fits this definition and, like Frankie’s, can be very convenient as there are a couple of restaurants in the same complex as the hotel (including a Mexican restaurant which is a great place to watch international football games.) I’ve never stayed at Chez Lien, a French/Vietnamese place in an obscure corner of Osu, but the food there is amazing, and the hotel looks quite beautiful.

What to eat
The food in Accra is good enough to make it worth visiting just to have a couple of extraordinary meals. It’s hard to go wrong if you keep your eyes open for restaurants that draw a crowd. French chef Anthony Bourdain did a food show on Ghana a few months ago and declared, over a bowl of street food, that he hadn’t had a bad meal in Accra – that’s pretty much been my experience as well (so long as you don’t eat in the five star hotels…) Here are a couple of places I try to go every time I’m in town:

Papaye – There’s only one thing on the menu – chicken – and really only four possible ways to order it. And I only ever order one thing: charcoal grilled chicken, heavily seasoned with ginger, and fried rice, with plenty of shito, the fish and pepper sauce that can turn any ordinary Ghanaian meal into something special. It’s on Cantonments Road in Osu, and every cab driver knows where it is. The crowds can be absurd, but it’s really worth it – when I’m longing for Accra, this is usually the food I’m missing.

Blue Gate – Down the street from Papaye (about a quarter mile down the side street to the left of Papaye) is a legendary local institution. Blue Gate has only one dish on the menu – grilled tilapia with banku, a fermented cornmeal mush. You pick out your fish, how many balls of banku you can eat, and swill beer while the fish grills. One quick tip – friends of mine have gotten sick here, not from the food but from inadvertently putting too much unfiltered water into their mouths by using the handwashing bowls (essential, as you eat the sticky banku with your hands.) The easy solution to this is to dump out the water in the bowls, fill them with bottled water and go to town. About 30m further down the road Blue Gate is on, the road Ts – the apartment buildings just to the right of the T are where I lived in 1993-4 – wave at them for me.

There are a number of excellent Ghanaian restaurants that I frequent to get my recommended weekly allowance of red-red (black-eyes peas with fried plantains), palaver sauce (spinach and pumpkin seed sauce served with slices of starchy yam) and groundnut soup (spicy peanutbutter soup over rice, or fufu – yam and cassava pounded together into a sticky paste.) I’m partial to the restaurant inside the National Theatre of Ghana, to Home Touch restaurant (between 37 military hospital and the army base) and Labone Coffee Shop.

Near Labone is Maquie Tantie Marie, an amazing pan-West African restaurant. It’s a two level complex of wooden porches which surround barbeque pits. The menu leans heavily towards Iviorian and Senegalese food – there’s a remarkable Iviorian fufu which involves cassava and sweet bananas, and the Senegalese Ceebu Jën, which is the wonderful distant ancestor of Ghana’s jollof rice.

On Labadi beach, there are countless bars that serve amazing fresh seafood – pull up a table, order a beer and see if the waiters can bring you lobsters, or even just good fresh beef kebab. My favorite of these joints is Next Door, which is a healthy walk down the road from Labadi Beach Hotel. It’s best late at night, and almost always turns into a dance party when a highlife band gets going.

Finally, you can’t go to Ghana without eating street food. Yeah, I know, everyone tells you not to. Ignore them. Eat kebab, yam chips with pepper, kelewele (plantain fried with ginger and pepper.) Eat as many pineapples as possible, peeled and sliced through a magic process that begins with a whole pineapple and leaves you with a plastic bag full of the most flavorful fruit you’ve ever eaten. Drink coconuts. Ask the guy with the big machete to find you a “hard one” so you can chew on the meat after you drink the milk.

What to see and do
I try to take all first-time visitors to Accra to Makola Market, mostly to see how long they can survive. Makola is one of the most astounding markets in the world, and you can get anything there. Anything. It’s acre after acre of crowded, strange-smelling visual stimulation. You turn a corner and suddenly a dozen women are grinding fresh red pepper and serving it in kilogram bags. Turn another corner and there’s stacks of smoked fish, live snails trying to climb out of aluminum basins, tables piled with grasscutter (a tasty rodent popularly refered to as “rat on a stick”). Another corner and there’s nothing but chinese-made underwear, or clothing from American thrift stores. You can occasionally get amazing deals at these clothing stores – ask someone to help you find the “Obruni Wao” market – the phrase means “the white man is dead”, which is how we explain what all this western clothing is doing for sale in the market.

I’m also very fond of walking around the General Post Office, where secretaries prepare documents on creaky typewriters under umbrellas. Some of the buildings in this area have rooftop bars where you can catch a sea breeze and glimpse of the Atlantic. Take a cab to Timber Market and you’ll get an interesting introduction to juju, traditional Ghanaian magic and healing. One of the corners of Timber market has vendors of some of the strangest things you’ll ever encounter in a market: forged iron snakes, porcupine quills, turtle shells, dried lizards, cowrie shells. The market has figured out that there’s a tourist trade, so someone will attempt to sell you an obviously fake voodoo doll. Hang around long enough and the cool stuff comes out – elephant teeth, cheetah hides, things that you frankly don’t want to know about… A friend of mine makes Joseph Cornell-inspired boxes, and she asks me to just bring her care packages of random stuff from Timber Market so she can turn it into art…

The Arts Center, on the beach between the post office and Black Star Square, exists primarily to part tourists from their cash, but it can be a worthwhile stop. Much of the stuff here is airport art, which is to say that it’s carved from cheap, white wood and colored with shoe polish to make it look like ebony. It’s actually good fun to walk all the way through the market towards the beach and watch the young counterfitters at work. But there’s good stuff here, too – my musician friends buy a lot of their instruments here, and the textiles and beads are quite good, as is the brasswork and leather. The key, I find, is to ignore the aggressive salesmen and negotiate with the quiet ones. In practice, this means ignoring most of the young men and talking mostly to women and older men.

To see a newer, more modern Accra, it’s worth spending some time hanging out at Busy Internet, a massive internet cafe and business center on the Ring Road. I’m partial to hanging out at the cafe here, using the free wifi and watching the Ghanaian digerati go by.

If you’ve got a bit more time, it’s worth getting out of the city proper. The beaches are fantastic, of course, both Labadi and the beach at Kokrobite is worth a bus ride, especially if you’re interesting in taking some music classes at the school near the beach. The University of Ghana at Legon is quite beautiful, a little like Stanford relocated into a lush red-earth landscape, and the bookstore is excellent. Aburi Botanical gardens is also very much worth a daytrip, especially if you rent mountainbikes to explore the park.

In the evenings? Catch any performance at the National Theatre – if it’s not excellent, it will be, at the very least, memorable – stand-up comedy, hiplife concerts, traditional music and dance, beauty pageants – they’re all worth your time, at least once. Catch a film at Ghana Films Theatre, the Executive Filmhouse (both near Sankara interchange) or really any of the theatres in town – the Ghanaian film industry is small in comparison to Nollywood, but produces excellent and distinctive material. Go dancing at any number of clubs and discos – I used to give recommendations on my favorites, but I invariably hear that the places that used to be good are closed, less good, filled with prostitutes, etc. Just go out – there’s something going on almost every night in Accra, and it’s often a very good time…

To my friends heading to Accra in the near future, hope this helps. And to my readers who know the city better than I do, please fill up the comment thread with your own suggestions…

04/16/2007 (12:19 am)

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