How Is the Shift from Tangible Capital to Collective Intelligence Reshaping Modern Capitalism?

Why Are Today’s Most Profitable Companies Moving Toward a “Hollow” Business Model?

Discover how capitalism is transforming in John Kay’s The Corporation in the Twenty-First Century. Learn why modern giants like Apple and Amazon are abandoning asset ownership for a “hollow” model driven by intellectual capital and collective intelligence.

Ready to future-proof your understanding of business? Continue reading to explore why owning physical assets is no longer the key to corporate power—and what really drives value in the digital age.

Genres

Economics, Management, Leadership, Corporate Culture, Career Success

Introduction: Chart the transformation of capitalism.

The Corporation in the Twenty-First Century (2024) takes a fresh look at the evolving role of modern businesses. It explores how the shift from physical production to intellectual capital is transforming the way value is created, challenging traditional measures of success and reshaping corporate structures. As products and production become increasingly digital and knowledge-driven, it argues that businesses must adapt to thrive in this new economic landscape.

“We used to make things in this country,” a dock worker grumbles in HBO’s gritty drama, The Wire. It’s a complaint shared by millions of disgruntled voters in the West’s multiplying rustbelts. From Pennsylvania’s steel mills to Yorkshire’s coal mines and Turin’s car factories, many once-iconic industrial hubs have gone silent.

The blame for lost jobs and crumbling regional identities is often pinned on “offshoring.” But the Asian countries that profited from the global division of labor now have rustbelts of their own. While globalization partly accounts for painful economic dislocations in Pittsburgh, Yorkshire, or Turin, there’s another factor in play: the “dematerialization” of economic life.

Today’s leading companies – the corporations that will dominate the twenty-first century – aren’t like the capitalists who built the industrial age’s factories and assembly lines. Their business model doesn’t require them to own capital – like Amazon, which doesn’t even own the server farms on which its most valuable product relies, they buy capital as a service. Even the things they do make are mostly vessels: iPhones, for example, aren’t valuable because of the materials that go into them, but because of the idea they represent.

This shift, British economist John Kay argues, is transforming capitalism. As businesses move away from traditional ownership toward more fluid, asset-light models, our understanding of economic life needs an update. And that’s exactly what we’ll be doing in this summary as we explore how corporations have evolved from the owner-operators of “dark satanic mills” to today’s practitioners of a “hollow” business model.

Collective intelligence drives human progress

The word “corporation” comes from the Latin corpus, meaning “body,” and is typically defined as an organized group of people acting in common. Corporations, like tribes, guilds, universities, and nation-states, are part of a long history of human collaboration – allowing us to achieve things collectively that we couldn’t accomplish alone.

The power of collective knowledge is evident in many areas of life. Take Wikipedia, for example. One person might know a lot about butterflies but little about bridges, while a civil engineer may be well-versed in structures but clueless about Turkish grammar or tort law. Wikipedia thrives because a group’s combined knowledge far exceeds that of any individual – one of the key benefits of collective knowledge. At its core, this is about efficiency, many hands making light work. But collective effort goes beyond just pooling information. When shared knowledge is transformed into problem-solving capabilities, it becomes collective intelligence, the driving force behind innovation and progress.

Consider the history of running. For thousands of years, human speed barely changed. Then, in the twentieth century, records started shattering. The first Olympic marathon winner in 1896 took just under three hours to complete 25 miles. By 2019, Eliud Kipchoge ran 26 miles in under two hours. At the New York City Marathon today, it’s not unusual for 2,000 or more runners to finish in times that would have won gold in 1896.

What explains this dramatic progress? One key factor is that we now know much more about running. But two other forces also played a role. First, the rise of a commercial market for running fueled investment, encouraged specialization, and expanded participation. What was once an amateur pursuit for European men evolved into a global professional sport, dominated by East and West African athletes. Kipchoge, a Kenyan who wears American running shoes and consults Dutch sports scientists, embodies this transformation. Second, competition fostered cooperation. Organizing marathons – let alone the Olympics – requires massive coordination, drawing together organizers, sponsors, scientists, and athletes. This infrastructure enables runners like Kipchoge to turn shared knowledge into new capabilities.

That, in short, is how humans got faster. But it’s not just running. Collective intelligence also explains how we got better at, well, pretty much everything.

The division of labor harnesses collective intelligence

It’s impossible to tell the story of humanity’s progress over the last two centuries without talking about capitalism. And once you start doing that, it’s impossible to avoid the name of a famous Scottish economist: Adam Smith.

Capitalism was still in its infancy when Smith began analyzing it in the eighteenth century, but he intuited its revolutionary future. In a famous passage, he invites us to take a tour of a pin factory. The manufacture of this common household item, he promises, will unravel the secret of the wealth of nations. We look on as one man draws out a length of wire and a second cuts it. A third points it; a fourth grinds it. Adding the head requires three workers, and wrapping the finished pin in paper is a trade in itself.

This, Smith tells us, is the division of labor. The production process has been broken down into specialized tasks. The artisan with his encyclopaedic knowledge of pin-making has been replaced by a dozen workers who each know one specific thing about it. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts: collectively, a dozen comparatively unskilled laborers can outproduce the most skilled craftsman by orders of magnitude. Smith tells us why. Workers who perform the same job all day achieve greater dexterity and time is no longer wasted moving between workbenches. But it’s the elimination of redundancy that changes everything.

When the entire work of pin-making is in the hands of a single artisan, the factory has to hire someone sufficiently skilled to perform the most difficult tasks. This master craftsman thus spends a portion of his day doing menial work that could just as well have been done by an apprentice. Dividing the production process does away with this inefficiency. Skilled hands are hired for complex work; unskilled workers for the rest. The factory now purchases the precise quantity and quality of labor it needs for each stage of the pin-making process.

Smith’s factory is an assemblage of parts, each with its own specialized role yet cooperating in pursuit of a common goal. The biological equivalent would be the human body, an assemblage of limbs, organs, and faculties organized into coherence by the brain. As we’ll see, in economic life, the corporation – the entity running the pin factory – plays an analogous role: it’s the seat of the collective intelligence ensuring the combination and coordination of parts.

Some of today’s most successful products are assemblages

There’s a term for someone who combines and coordinates: entrepreneur, a French word that literally means “to take between.” It referred to the organizer of a particular kind of assemblage – the manager of theatre productions – before taking on the wider meaning it has today.

Entrepreneurship in the original sense of combining and coordinating is the secret sauce in one of our era’s most iconic products: the smartphone. There’s little this device can do that we couldn’t do before Steve Jobs unveiled Apple’s iPhone in 2007. We had telephone booths to make calls when we were out and about and regular cameras to take pictures. We opened emails on desktop computers, called specific numbers to order taxis, and watched the weather forecast to see if it was going to rain tomorrow. But the smartphone combines all these functions in a device that fits in your pocket. That’s what makes Apple so profitable: it has a knack for creating highly desirable assemblages that are more valuable than the sum of their parts.

Then there’s Airbus, an aerospace corporation that makes what is arguably the most complex mass-manufactured product on the planet: the civil aircraft. Airbus’ production process practices the division of labor on a continental scale. Every part of its flagship airliner, the Airbus A350, is manufactured by a specialist. The engines are English-made; the wings are built in Wales; the vertical stabilizers come from Germany; the fuselage is welded in Spain. The only part of the production process that occurs anywhere near the corporation’s headquarters in Toulouse, France, is the final assembly.

The plane that finally rolls off that assembly line is extraordinarily complex. We can imagine an eighteenth-century apprentice mastering the craft of artisanal pin-making within a decade. We know that it took the Wright brothers around seven years to get a prototype of their plane off the ground. But two lifetimes wouldn’t be enough to learn what you’d need to know to put together an Airbus A350. Assembling one of these jets requires the combined and coordinated efforts of some 10,000 people dotted around half a dozen countries. In other words, it’s collective intelligence, not individual genius, that keeps these planes airborne.

Capital used to be tangible, but that’s changing

So far, we’ve talked about capitalism without mentioning ownership. That concept inevitably brings up the name of another famous economist: Karl Marx.

For Marx, capitalism is all about ownership of the things humans make in order to make other things – the “means of production,” as he calls them. That includes tools, looms, assembly lines – and pin factories. If you don’t own capital (or land), you have to work for the people who do: the capitalists. Workers use capital – the capitalists’ tools, factories, and assembly lines – to produce commodities for a wage. Control over what gets made under which conditions is entirely in the hands of the owners. Ownership and power are synonymous.

This part of Marx’s work isn’t theoretical: he was describing what he saw around him as the industrial revolution swept nineteenth-century Britain. The great enterprises of the day fit his description. Take the Carron Company, the owner of the ironworks which cast the cannons used by Lord Nelson’s ships at the Battle of Trafalgar. The company was typical of the era’s pattern of investment. Two families invested inherited agricultural wealth into new industry, recruited labor from the countryside, and built a factory town for these workers. Essentially, the business was controlled by people whose office windows looked out onto the capital they owned.

Twentieth-century corporations worked the same way, albeit on a larger scale. Ford controlled and owned every part of its production process, including the land from which it sourced material for its tires. The name of a 5,500-square mile rubber plantation in northern Brazil – Fordlândia – is a monument to the age of top-down corporate capitalism epitomised by Ford.

However, that age has passed. Ford in the twentieth century and Apple in our own are both examples of corporations practicing a global division of labor, but that’s where the similarities end. Ford made and owned every component of its products; Apple owns virtually none. As it says on the latter’s packaging, their products are designed in California. It’s the idea that’s really valuable, in other words – anyone can make the thing. That’s why the manufacturing process is outsourced. Foxconn, a Taiwanese company operating on the Chinese mainland, assembles Apple’s devices; Samsung, ostensibly one of its greatest rivals, manufactures most of the parts that go inside them. As we’ll see, this kind of separation of control from ownership is likely to be one of the defining features of twenty-first-century corporations.

The twenty-first century is the age of the hollow corporation

If you assumed that the plane you’re sitting in belongs to the company whose logo is printed on the fuselage, you’d be wrong. Most aircraft bodies in fact belong to aviation leasing companies like the Irish-American business AerCap. These companies don’t employ pilots, but they do have lots of accountants and lawyers on hand to draft contracts. AerCap, or one of its competitors, owns the fuselage, but it doesn’t own the engines. Those belong to a separate company that sells supply and servicing packages contracted from the engines’ maker.

It’s the same with Amazon warehouses and delivery trucks, which are also leased. Amazon doesn’t even own the servers it needs to run its most profitable product, Amazon Web Services – that’s hosted on data centers entirely owned by a company called Equinix.

Airliners and Amazon are just two examples of an increasingly common business model: the hollow corporation. McDonald’s is another example. The brick-and-mortar shops emblazoned with the iconic “golden arches” are operated by franchisees and owned by a third party. What McDonald’s sells is the branding and the manuals that tell you how to make cheeseburgers. As with iPhones, the emphasis is on design, not manufacture. IBM, once a leading manufacturer of mainframe computers, is now the largest global consultancy company. The list goes on. From Marriott International to Facebook and Google, today’s most successful corporations don’t need to actually own the capital they use and profit from.

What this suggests is that the nature of capital has changed. It’s not the means of production Marx had in mind. Really, it’s a service. Hollow corporations buy it in the same way they buy accounting services or mineral water for their offices. The upshot is that power no longer flows from the ownership of capital. The linkage between personal wealth, tangible capital, and control of business we saw in the case of the Carron ironworks no longer holds. Today, control of business creates personal wealth – that, in short, is the story of a Jeff Bezos or an Elon Musk.

Companies like Alphabet, Amazon, Apple, Microsoft, and Tesla are closer in spirit to Smith’s pin factory than they are to the command-and-control model of a midcentury giant like Ford, let alone a Victorian ironworks. Even when they own tangible capital – think, for example, of Tesla’s assembly lines – that’s not the key factor in their production process. What they specialize in is combining and coordinating the associated skills of software engineers, accountants, marketers, dealmakers, and consultants. These workers are the means of production; it’s the know-how contained in their heads that makes the hollow corporations profitable.

In this business model, production is increasingly dematerialized, meaning that growth is about better, not more stuff. Back in Smith’s day, a couple of pounds of pins would have cost the equivalent of around $11. Two pounds of Pfizer vaccine, by contrast, will set you back around $500,000. That’s an extreme example, but it’s an illustrative one. The value of products increasingly resides in the collective intelligence that goes into them, not the raw materials.

Conclusion

The key takeaway from this summary to The Corporation in the Twenty-First Century by John Kay is that specialization and the division of labor drive efficiency and economic growth.

Modern products – smartphones, aircraft, software – are intricate assemblies that require the coordination of countless individuals. The result is a collective intelligence greater than the sum of its parts. Unlike traditional industrial giants, today’s leading corporations don’t rely on owning physical capital – they buy it as a service.

Together, these factors signal a shift towards “hollow corporations” that rely on outsourced production and specialized knowledge workers.