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In 1886, James Olcott, a farmer, “having been bred in the old anti-slavery reform,” gave a speech before the Agricultural Board of Connecticut. Recalling an earlier age, he encouraged his audience and “the common people” of Connecticut to “agitate, agitate,” in order to “cleanse” the state of the “social evil” of the pollution “by sewage from families and factories, festering in every pool, and mill pond—formerly trout holes.” Olcott reminded the farmers that “our best hold on polluted streams reform lies in the fact that the mischief has brought on us its calamitous consequences in this country with such rapidity that men and women too not very greyhaired and in full bodily and mental vigor can shut their eyes and review the whole matter from its beginning.” The history Olcott conjured up was the transformation of a clean, clear environment from “one of the most salubrious to one of the worst in the world.” The change was intimately linked to the rise of industrial cities like Bellows Falls, Chicopee, Hartford, New Britain, and Holyoke. Although Olcott’s remembrance of the past was partly colored by romantic notions of a purer age, the pollution he pointed to was indeed a problem of growing obviousness and concern. Reflecting the rapid change that had occurred over the last quarter century, the Massachusetts State Board of Health complained that with the growth of densely populated industrial cities, the old habits of disposing of waste contributed to “a large part of the filth in our state,” and that “often the water which is used for domestic purposes [is disposed of] by being thrown upon the surface of the ground, or collected in loosewalled vaults and cesspools,” which might have been acceptable in a rural community but caused concern in the new industrial cities. As the New Hampshire Board of Health noted in 1887, looking back over the last few decades, “when men mass, . . . the conditions at once become aggravated. . . . Man comes in with his artificial constructions and sweeps away much of this economy of nature.”

As we demonstrated in Chapter 5 and as a small, but rapidly growing, body of research suggests, developing countries appear to be able to achieve win–win technique effects—reductions in the energy, materials, water, and pollution intensities of industrial production—simply by opening their economies to trade, foreign investment, and foreign technology (Copeland and Taylor 2003; Dean 2002; Reppelin-Hill 1999; Hettige et al. 1997; Wheeler and Martin 1992; Birdsall and Wheeler 1992; Lucas et al. 1992). While extremely promising, none of this body of work allows for in-depth analysis of the strategies and processes used by individual firms that import newer, more efficient, and cleaner technologies to reduce environmental intensities. In effect, this literature tells us much about win–win outcomes, but it says little about how these outcomes are achieved. If the import, adoption, and use of technologies that reduce environmental intensities were a simple and relatively costless process, this would not be a major source of concern. But, as we demonstrated in Chapter 2, there is a large literature suggesting that, on the contrary, technological learning and upgrading is a complex, difficult, and lengthy process, often marked by failure, that requires firms to make heavy investments in learning and upgrading (Amsden 2003, 1989; Bell and Pavitt 1992; Dahlman et al. 1987; Hobday 1997; Kim 1997; Lall 1992; Nelson 1993; Kim and Nelson 2001; Wade 1990; and UNIDO 2002b) before they can reap the economic and environmental gains associated with shifts to more effcient technologies. The core research question to be addressed in this chapter then is the importance of firm-level learning for achieving the win–win technique effects—improvements in environmental intensities associated with the import and adoption of energy and pollution-efficient technologies. Because firm-level learning is industry specific, path dependent, and influenced by the openness of an economy to trade, investment, and foreign technology, we focus on the learning effects of intensities reduction in one firm, Siam City Cement Public Company Ltd. (SCCC), in one particularly ‘dirty’ and rapidly expanding developing country industry (cement) that is undergoing substantial technological modernization, global consolidation, and greening, in an economy, Thailand, that has historically been very open to trade, investment, and foreign technology (Pongpaichit 1980).

Political and business leaders know that their defects and blunders will be excused if they turn in a respectable growth performance. The quarterly or annual gains in corporate revenue or GDP are really all that matters. But when and why did these raw metrics come to surpass all other indicators of well-being? Although growth is often seen as integral to any capitalist system of accumulation, its recognition as a society’s only relevant standard of worth is largely a postwar development. For example, four-fifths of U.S. growth has occurred in the last fifty years, some part of it driven by Cold War competition to prove the superiority of a market economy. The consensus mood that developed after 1945—which historians have called “growth liberalism”—presided over an expansionist boom in the industrialized world that did not contract until the 1970s. Subsequent doctrines—the supply-side gospel of the Reagan era, the high-tech evangelism of the 1990s, and the asset ownership creed of the 2000s—were all aimed at reviving and boosting the high growth rates that managers of a consumer society had come to expect. Growthmanship spread abroad, along with the internationalization of production, and soon growth in GDP became the most important yardstick for nations, whether in the advanced or the developing world. Slowing growth rates were a cause for concern, while falling numbers were a sign that something was awry, and that close scrutiny, even intervention, from the World Bank or the International Monetary Fund was in the offing. Those who believed or behaved otherwise were not wrong; they were simply treated as dropouts from modernity. So entrenched was this orthodoxy that The Limits to Growth, the momentous 1972 Club of Rome report that concluded that current rates of industrial growth could not be sustained ecologically in the long term, was received among business and policy elites as a genuinely heretical document that had to be publicly pilloried. Subsequent surveys, drawing upon a wider range of experts and a more comprehensive collection of scientific data, amplified the 1972 warning about the ruinous impact of unrestrained growth.