COMMERCIALIZING NEW TECHNOLOGIES

Getting from Mind to Market

Vijay K. Jolly

Copyright © 1997 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College

Rights subsequently returned to the estate of Vijay K. Jolly

This version published by IMD International 2011 at Smashwords

All rights reserved

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Jolly, Vijay K.

Commercializing new technologies : getting from mind to market /

Vijay K. Jolly.

p. cm.

Includes index.

ISBN 0-87584-760-9 (alk. paper)

1. Inventions—Marketing. I. Title.

T339.J58 1997

658.5' 75—DC21 96-48032

CIP

Contents

Acknowledgments

Introduction

1. From Mind to Market: The Process of Technology Commercialization

2. Imagining the Dual (Techno-Market) Insight to Start Commercialization

3. Mobilizing Interest and Endorsement

4. Incubating to Define Commercializability

5. Mobilizing Resources for Demonstration

6. Demonstrating Contextually in Products and Processes

7. Mobilizing Market Constituents

8. Promoting Adoption

9. Mobilizing Complementary Assets for Delivery and Optimizing Returns

10. Sustaining Commercialization and Realizing Long-Term Value

11. Closing the Circle: Speed, Timing, and Effectiveness

12. Implications for Managing Technological Innovation Within Companies

Notes

Index

About the Author

Acknowledgments

“STAND UP AND LIVE BEFORE YOU SIT DOWN AND WRITE!” IS AN ADMONITION that applies to many fields—particularly to technology commercialization. What we know about this field comes mostly from the experience of innovators—from their joy and anguish in discovering something new and their frustrations and rewards in commercializing it. Straddling the rational world of technology and the complex socioeconomic forces at work in the market, technology commercialization does not easily lend itself to elegant generalizations. Indeed, when asked to draw some general lessons from their experience in bringing a new technology to the market, most people are at a loss themselves. “My case was unique,” they are likely to say. They recall the uncertainties they encountered all along, the accidents, the fortuitous combination of events, the intransigence of colleagues, and the solutions that had to be found, often in extremis, which they doubt have parallels elsewhere. None of this lends confidence to building a post facto theory.

The elusive nature of the process, combined with its economic importance, has captivated many to research it. My own interest in bringing new technologies to market goes back some fifteen years, when I launched a seminar on the marketing of technology at the International Management Institute (IMI) in Geneva. During this time I was fortunate enough to observe from close up about a dozen cases of companies formulating and trying to implement strategies to exploit a new technological capability. The variety was enormous. Some were start-up companies, others new ventures within large companies. They covered a broad spectrum of technologies and represented varying degrees of market readiness.

The uniqueness of each case challenged comprehension. The published literature on the subject helped, but it consisted mainly of how things should be done generally, not what should be done in a particular case. Wanting to know more about the what, I widened the net, collecting more cursory information on another twenty cases by interviewing managers who had been involved in them and following press reports. Gradually, some generalizable concepts began to form that I found useful. I hope others will too.

Through it all, others took the risk while I learned. It is these inventors and executives to whom I would like to acknowledge my biggest debt. To give credit to all of them would make for an inconveniently long list. I would, however, like to single out the following:

John Benjamin and his colleagues at Alcoa; Greg Smith, Clifford Ballard, James Yardley, and Krish Rao at AlliedSignal, Inc., for encour agements and updates over a five-year period; Gordon Binder and his colleagues at Amgen, Inc., for an introduction to the biotechnology industry in 1989; Masaru Ozaki of Asahi Chemical; Anthony Pottage, Håkan Björklund, Christer Carling, and several others at Astra AB; Robert Kerwin of AT&T Bell Laboratories; Roland Belz and Roman Kainz of Belland AG for giving me a ringside seat on their work; Linda Capuano of Conductus, Inc.; Tom Cross and Brian Cronin of Diamond Shamrock Technologies SA; Norman D’Allura at DuPont; Bruce Godfrey of the Australian Energy Research and Development Corporation for many insightful comments; Norman Haber of Haber, Inc.; Teruo Hiruma and Yoshiji Suzuki of Hamamatsu Photonics; Sir William Hawthorne and Edward Hawthorne for reviewing an early draft; Valentin Heuss for many years of collaboration in the field; Praveen Chaudhari of IBM for explaining how scientific research gets done; Paul Henstridge of ICI, Ltd.; Masaharu Yoshida of Kubota Corp.; Dan Dooley of Lasa, Inc.; Ernst Uhlmann of Lasarray SA; Juhani Kuusi and Petri Haavisto of Nokia; Ken Payne for patient tutoring on intellectual property rights for longer than he probably cares to remember; Cees Weijsenfeld of Philips Research; Anthony Pilkington of Pilkington plc for discussion on the float glass technology several years back; Ken Frederick, Joseph G. Wirth, Gary Wiseman, Paul Becker, and several others at Raychem Corp. for sharing their time and experience generously; Franco Sbarro of Sbarro SA; Tatsuya Adachi and Hiroshi Fukino of Seiko Instruments; Toshiyuki Yamada, Takamasa Ito, Stephen Baker, and many others at Sony for helping my research in such a hospitable manner; Lowell Steele for his keen insights and valuable advice; Christian Sturzinger, Matt Simmons, and Hannu Siikala of Sulzer AG; John Seely Brown for several stimulating discussions at Xerox PARC; and Ambros Speiser (formerly of Brown Bovery, Ltd.), for providing the much-needed perspective that experience brings.

Although several individuals at the International Institute for Management Development (IMD) and IMI-Geneva helped to further my work, I would particularly like to acknowledge the individual who got it started, Bohdan Hawrylyshyn. Noritake Kobayashi (Dean, Keio Business School) and Richard Kaehler (Pepperdine University) hosted me during a sabbatical in 1989 in Tokyo and Los Angeles, respectively. I remember their hospitality gratefully, because that was when I decided to start putting my thoughts together. Particular thanks are also due to Andrea von Carlowitz of IMI for typing early drafts and to Myriam Romero of IMD for graciously taking the task over and not reminding the author when the final draft should be final.

Nicholas Philipson and Barbara Roth shepherded the manuscript through publishing with such admirable facility as to make this last stage a pleasure.

My final debt is to my wife, Irma. Without her understanding and support this book would not have been possible.

—Vijay K. Jolly Blonay, Switzerland

Introduction

AMONG THE EXHIBITS AT GENEVA’S AUTOMOBILE SHOW IN 1989 WAS A proverbial “reinvention of the wheel.” A clever inventor, Franco Sbarro, demonstrated a hubless wheel that did away with the usual central hub connected to an axle. The interior of the wheel was empty; instead, a lever arm with ball bearings was attached to the interior rim of the wheel at the point where the wheel touched the ground—a kind of skateboard riding on the rim’s inner circumference.

As a simplification of the wheel, Sbarro’s invention promised lighter constructions. By putting the weight of the vehicle closer to the road, it also offered improved handling and braking as well as the freedom to design wheels of any dimension. Heavy vehicles with multiple wheels on the same axle could run the wheels independently of one another, hence obtaining better suspension and turning.

Equally remarkable was the inventor’s runaway enthusiasm for the wheel’s potential applications. The wheel had already been adapted to prototype cars and motorcycles, and Sbarro had already designed a bicycle with his wheel. Trains, buses, trucks were only the most obvious among the other applications he had in mind.

How many of these applications will eventually get developed and marketed only time will tell. By the summer of 1996, nothing was on the market, and the initial excitement with which the Sbarro wheel was greeted had begun to fade. Judging from the countless examples of stalled innovation, getting even a few of its applications into marketed products will not be easy.

Many technologies, even those as promising as Sbarro’s wheel, actually do not make it to market—let alone become commercial successes. Some end written up as articles in journals, while others are simply forgotten, or find use in products far removed from what the inventor had in mind. And then there are some that find a place in science museums to be remembered for what might have been.

But none of this keeps people from inventing new technologies and investing in their development. Thus, throughout the ups and downs of the venture capital industry in the United States during the 1980s, the number of patents issued to individual inventors continued to grow from 13,000 in 1985 to 18,300 in 1990. Similarly, despite periodic recessions, and reminders that technology is not what makes products sell, companies have generally maintained their levels of R&D investments throughout the world. Also, while U.S. companies have reduced the proportion of their R&D devoted to long-term research somewhat, companies in Europe and Japan have been steadily increasing theirs. R&D investments, in fact, are now close to what many companies spend by way of investment in plant and equipment. In Japan, the amount spent on R&D by the top fifty indus-trial companies had even exceeded capital spending by 1989.¹

Justifying these investments is, of course, the hope that some value will be realized in the end. This concern for realizing value from investments in R&D touches not just companies and individuals today but governments as well. The rate at which their technologies have been commercialized, thus far, is not impressive. Hertzfeld’s analysis of NASA patents form 1959 to 1979, for example, found that only 1.5 percent of the patents the agency earned were actually used outside the agency. This compared to a less than 5 percent commercialization rate of the 30,000 patents held by the U.S. federal government as a whole.² The situation in other parts of the world has been no better.

To find greater uses for the technologies they invest in, governments all around the world have enacted measures to encourage commercial ization, especially by private bodies. In the United States, this trend got added impetus with the passage of the Stevenson-Wydler Technology Innovation Act (PL 96-480) and the Baigh-Dole Act (PL 96-517) in 1980. The former aimed to foster technology transfer from the National Laboratories by encouraging cooperative research, visits, and licensing; the latter al lowed universities, nonprofit research institutes, and small businesses doing government-funded research to maintain ownership of the technologies they developed and apply for patents in their name. Both laws were ex panded and strengthened by the Federal Technology Transfer Act of 1986 (PL 99-502), making technology transfer and the commercialization of new technologies an integral part of the mission of government laboratories. The more recent trend toward converting defense-oriented R&D capacity to civilian use and promoting dual-use technologies is motivated by the same desire to obtain better and wider returns from investments in R&D.

Much the same trend is in evidence in other parts of the world. Whether it is the European Union insisting on industry participation in the funding of various new technology programs, the Japanese government mobilizing private companies in sponsored research, or the Chinese and Indian governments cajoling universities and research institutes to become more commercially oriented, the intention is the same—to move from mere knowledge creation and strategically targeted research to realizing commercial value.

WHY A BOOK ON TECHNOLOGY COMMERCIALIZATION?

The desire and need for realizing greater value from investments made in R&D may be universal, but the subject continues to be approached with trepidation, not least because of the difficulty and unpredictability of the process involved. While our understanding of innovation has shifted in recent years from its being a probabilistic event that we hope will happen but we’re not quite sure how, to a process that can be managed, this understanding is still partial. We know now that successful innovation requires:

Understanding the marketplace and the customer well;

Coming up with a superior product that delivers significant, unique benefits to the end-user; Launching the product in an attractive market, as measured by its rate

of growth, size, and competitiveness;

Having a well-planned and coordinated development and marketing process; Getting customers themselves involved early in the development pro

cess and, if necessary, as codevelopers; Undertaking early and frequent prototyping; and Undertaking as much of the development process (market assessment,

R&D, and manufacturing process development) concurrently as possible, typically through the use of multifunctional teams with top management and supplier and customer involvement.

These actions, and the tools they imply, not only improve the probability of a successful product launch but also aid in compressing the time to market.³

All these recommendations, however, apply to a part of the innovation process only—dealing with product development and launch. Technology plays an incidental role in them. In their study of “new” products, authors have seldom discriminated among products based on a new technology, products based on a new marketing concept, and products that were simply new to the firm being studied. Everything from a new formulation of shampoo, a new way to package potato chips, Sony’s Walkman, microwave ovens, and nuclear magnetic resonance (NMR) imaging devices were usually treated within the same sample.

As for the “commercialization” part of product innovation, it has typically been seen as merely the final stage of product launch, meriting little or no attention on its own. Building the plant, tooling the production line, and market launch were straightforward extensions that depended on performing all the preceding steps effectively. Those authors who did consider commercialization issues treated them under the rubric of new product marketing, with occasional qualifications to take into account the fact that these were “high-tech” products, and hence different from others.⁴

There are two sets of reasons for studying technology commercialization per se.

First is the role new technologies play in differentiating end products and offering new functions to be performed. With more and more companies mastering the keys to successful product development, one is already beginning to see a plethora of products, all well but indistinguishably conceived, manufactured, and delivered on time—to saturated markets. As Jiro Aoki, general manager of Matsushita’s domestic sales planning office, put it recently in reference to VCRs, one of the most successful technologybased products of the 1980s, “At one point there were 220 types of TVs and 62 types of VCRs across the industry but only 10 percent of these sold.”⁵

The best antidote to a saturated market is a new functionality, something that technology often provides. Just as we have moved from thinking of quality as avoiding aggravation to conforming to customer-defined expectations, and then on to quality that surprises and delights, the same graduation is now being asked of products—to go from improving the way existing functions are delivered to stoking new latent demands and creating altogether new markets.

The applications need not be particularly earth-shaking either, as the example of “memory shirts” launched in Japan at the end of 1993 shows. Based on shape-memory polymers discovered during the early 1980s, these shirts retain their pristine shape and finish after washing, doing away with the need to iron them. Despite the fact that they cost 20 percent more than conventional shirts, the two companies introducing them, Tomiya Apparel and Choya Corp., can barely keep up with demand—that too in an otherwise recessionary environment.⁶

The only way for companies to grow profitably is to offer high value products, cheaply, to attractive markets and, as far as possible, to do so in a unique way. Technology helps along all four of these dimensions. This explains the finding that leading companies not only commercialize two or three times the number of new products and processes as do their competitors of comparable size, but incorporate two to three times as many technologies in their products as well.⁷

The second set of reasons has to do with the difference between a technology and a new product. A technology is essentially a “capability,” often a versatile one, that can be used in more than one product. Products are occasional embodiments of this capability and mediate the process of bringing it to market and realizing value from it. The technology and these products, however, often live separate existences, following their own competitive logic, converging sporadically.

The archetypal example is that of lasers. Ever since the first laser was demonstrated in 1958, a whole galaxy of products has been introduced, all based on the same basic principles. Today lasers range in size from one micron or less to the Nova, which occupies a complete hangar at the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory in California. The wavelengths they provide go from middle of the infrared band all the way to ultraviolet, with X-ray band lasers being experimented with too. Their power range and applications are equally broad. Some are sensitive enough to move individual molecules and DNA fragments around, while others can cut through inches of steel in seconds.⁸ Just about every industry in the world today uses lasers in one form or another, or soon will. Each of these different types of lasers constitutes one event in the commercialization of “laser technology.”

This difference between products and technologies influences the way we think about commercialization. In both cases, commercialization is “to cause something having only a potential income-producing value to be sold, manufactured, displayed or utilized so as to yield income or raise capital”⁹—a definition the French capture well in using the term valori sation. For products, this means taking a design through development and then manufacturing and marketing it. For technologies, on the other hand, value realization encompasses a broad range of things, including “all stages of commercial development, application and transfer, including the focusing of ideas or inventions toward specific objectives, evaluating these objectives, downstream transfer of research and/or development results, and the eventual broad-based utilization, dissemination and diffusion of the technology-based outcomes.”¹⁰ As such, it begins before products are even conceived and stretches out to after they have been developed and launched—the latter to accommodate the influence a proprietary new function has on market acceptance and profit realization. See Table I-1, which summarizes the differences between product and technology commercialization.

Following from this difference in commercialization is the outcome expected and how this outcome is judged. For products, the desired outcome is value to customers, and it is the latter alone who decide. In contrast, the evolving capability a technology represents means that the stakeholders to be satisfied are of a greater number, whose composition changes over time. Thus, in the beginning, the principal stakeholders to deal with may simply be professional peers whose opinion regarding the quality of the science done and the veracity of the findings can make or break further progression of the technology. Later, as the technology evolves, others become involved: colleagues, outside collaborators, and— especially important for private inventors—resource providers. Each of these stakeholders assigns a value to the technology as it progresses, and they have their own reasons for doing so.

This evolutionary character of technology has meaning for the way one thinks of demand and competition. Rather than the demand emanating from a particular class of customers to whom a product is targeted, the demand for a technology is a derived demand; it comes from the end products made possible. Similarly, while we tend to see market competition as between products and services offered by various companies, technology competition manifests itself at different levels. In the early stages, the competition is between alternative technologies and approaches and is basically a competition among inventors. In addition to fighting the oblivion that comes from being bested by a more cost-effective approach, they struggle for the resources and attention needed to take things further. At late stages, competition involves getting the technology incorporated in products or processes and in gaining market acceptance for the novel function offered.

This multilevel competition, and the changing customers or stake holders a technology confronts as it progresses, have a bearing on how one judges the need for speed and timing. For products, the window of opportunity depends on what end-users demand at a point in time given what else is available. For technologies, on the other hand, end-product oppor tunities constitute the upper bound, so to speak, of a time window. But there are several intermediate windows to go through as well, having to do with the time line of resource providers and the host of organizations involved in demonstrating the technology and promoting its adoption in the marketplace.

Finally, the fact of being a general capability gives a number of possibilities for realizing value from technologies not available to most products. In product innovation, value comes at the end of the process when consumers buy the product. Value creation in a new technology is a cumulative, ongoing process, as resources get attracted to it. The latter can take the form of venture capital, attracting public funds for continuing the effort and, within an organizational context, the obtaining of interest and resources from business groups. All “pay” for the technology is in a certain sense based on its evolving potential. Also, if properly managed, ownership rights in a new technology permit premium pricing, delaying the onset of competition, obtaining various nonprice benefits in the context of license agreements, and access to markets that would otherwise be difficult.

WHAT THIS BOOK IS ABOUT

Technology commercialization of the type described above relates to a particular class of innovations that Souder calls “means-generated”—those that are made possible by some new technological capability.¹¹ Ralph Gomory refers to them as “ladder” innovations (those that stem from scientific breakthroughs) as distinct from “cyclic” ones (the continuous incorporation of product and process inventions in line with market evolution).¹²

The point of departure of this book is the somewhat unsettling finding that successful product development projects tend to be those for which the technology is “available,” or based on well-developed science that can be used to create it within the framework of a product development project.¹³ This finding is naturally hard to deal with for those whose primary interest has been in creating the technology and developing the science in the hope that it would find applications. What are they to do? Do they stop work, knowing that failure awaits them? Or can they indeed better their chances for making the technology “available” in a form that value can be realized from it?

These questions relate to a broader set of concerns that those engaged in science-based research confront today:

Why do particular technologies succeed and go far while others, apparently equally meritorious, get aborted along the way? What exactly happens along the way, and how much of it can be influenced and managed by an inventor?

How can technology commercialization be made more effective so that those working on early-stage technologies can profit from their investments? Obtaining a better ROR (return on research) is a major concern today. But what actions are needed to achieve it? How, in particular, to marry curiosity-driven fundamental research with the legitimate demand on the part of senior management for a slew of rapidly introduced breakthrough products?

How immutable is the ten- to twenty-year time scale of commercialization, and what, if anything, can be done to speed it? Speed and time-tomarket thinking now pervade just about everything companies do. Their role in gaining competitive advantage from the introduction of new products is also generally accepted. But does the same apply to new technologies, or is the dictum “haste makes waste” equally applicable?

How much of the commercialization burden should the proponent of a new technology take on alone versus engaging partners? Finally, what does effective technology commercialization mean for the way companies manage their innovation process generally?

These are the questions this book addresses. Answering them is to take out some of the guesswork that accompanies technology-based innovation. By seeing the latter as a black box at the front end of product development, managers within companies renege on their responsibility to get the most out of the investments made in R&D.

There has never been a greater need to come up with a better framework for thinking about technology commercialization. While incremental innovations based on process improvements, minor modifications at the product level, and high-quality execution have served many companies well in the 1970s and 1980s, there is mounting evidence that this will be less viable in the future. Devices and equipment based on entirely new principles are being launched with increasing frequency, offering in many cases a stepchange in functionality over the incumbent technology. This is particularly true of industrial equipment and analytical instruments, as well as a variety of pharmaceutical products. Also, as Hiroyoshi Rangu, general manager of NEC’s Tsukuba-based Fundamental Research Laboratories, put it, “In the past, industry could do without basic research because we were innovative enough to improve products by trial and error. But now, for instance, we’re pushing toward the atomic scale [in electronic devices], and to understand how electrons really behave at that level we must have a fundamental understanding of the science.”¹⁴

THE FRAMEWORK ADOPTED AND CHAPTER OUTLINE

To see how new technologies themselves can be commercialized effectively, the book looks at the entire process from the moment a new technological insight is gleaned to the marketing of products or processes incorporating it—hence the subtitle “Getting from Mind to Market.” The technological insight could be a concept like Sbarro’s wheel, the discovery of a mechanism to suppress tumors, a laboratory process for realigning the microstructure in a ceramic compound, a new type of polymer, or an idea for a special electronic switch that seems to work experimentally. New mathematical algorithms that eventually end up in computer software would belong to this category as well.

Anyone who has observed technological innovation longitudinally, especially over a decade or more, knows that this process cannot be broken down into discrete, linearly arranged activities. There is far too much “backing and forthing” between stages, and stops and starts that seem to occur randomly, to permit such a view. The best one can do is to “parse” the process, breaking it down into component parts to explain relationships, as is done in grammar. If the components end up having a time dimension, it has more to do with the starting or ending points of certain activities than their relay characteristics.

Parsing the overall process from mind to market led to the identification of five key subprocesses, each of which needs to be performed well to get to a successful outcome in the end. Corresponding roughly to the stages of innovation others have described in the past, they constitute the framework on which the book is built.

Admittedly, state-by-stage characterizations of the innovation process are not in fashion today. Repeated failures of the traditional “linear model” (in which research results were transferred to development and then to production and marketing) have caused many to prefer viewing innovation as a single, integrated process coupled to a market opportunity from the beginning. While appropriate for product development and certain types of incremental innovations, especially those for which the enabling technology is available to draw upon when needed, this modern view has several drawbacks when applied to major innovations in which technology plays an important role. Not surprisingly, even those who espouse it today worry about its implications for generating breakthroughs.

Conceiving of technology commercialization as a sequence of distinct subprocesses, it is argued, better captures the reality of technology-based innovations. It permits the use of a sequential investment decision framework based on options theory, which is best suited for accommodating the long time horizons and the nature of the risks involved. It incorporates the development of new technologies explicitly in the innovation process. And, from a managerial standpoint, it recognizes the different mind-sets needed along the way. All inventors know that the process of conceiving an idea is different from that of building products based on it; both, moreover, are different from the mind-set and actions required for introducing new products to the marketplace.

That said, this book is not an exhortation for returning to the old linear model. Rather, it presents a different way of thinking about the stages in innovation and the links between them. As such, it offers a new template for guiding inventors in their task. While much has been written about the importance of an “entrepreneurial personality” in successful innovation, the fact is that many entrepreneurs succeed with one idea, only to fail with the next. The cause of the failure was not a personality change. Instead, it was the lack of a model of their process general enough to apply to the new project. This book attempts to address the need for such a model.

The methodological approach derives from this framework. Instead of correlating measures of success or failure at the end of the entire process with particular actions taken at various stages, each segment of the process is analyzed for its own logic, seeing what worked and what didn’t. The fact that a technology failed in the end is not important, so long as it was possible to identify where the failure occurred and what caused it. Thus, some early stages may have been performed quite well in a particular case, moving the technology forward despite various odds, only to have the technology stumble at a later stage for unanticipated reasons. Making the early actions hostage to the latter, it is claimed, is to expect more foresight from innovators than is reasonable. By piecing together each stage’s suc-cesses and failures, it is possible to get a more complete picture of what needs to be done when in the commercialization process, either for a profitable outcome or, equally important, for cutting losses before they mount further.

This book is in the tradition of clinical research, informing the reader about actual choices at each stage. The wide variety of technologies it covers is intended to enrich these choices, not to address the problems unique to a particular industry. Those readers who like to draw ideas and inspirations from a different context than their own will find this useful. It is hoped that others will not be overly frustrated because of the care taken to present the arguments in as conceptual a manner as possible.

The book begins with a complete description of the process of taking technology-based insights to market and realizing value from them. Chapters 2 through 10 then treat each of the activities that are critical to successful commercialization. Chapter 11 puts the entire process together and looks at what needs to be done to close the circle, so to speak, in a timely and effective way. The final chapter (12) concludes with lessons that can be drawn for managing the R&D function for a greater commercial orientation within large companies today.

1

FROM MIND TO MARKET

The Process of Technology Commercialization

MOST TECHNOLOGY-BASED INVENTIONS NEVER GO BEYOND THE CONCEPTION stage. The light bulb in the mind gets lit often, but only occasionally does it leave a trace. Similarly, patents get applied for and granted, but many remain as trophies of the inventor or records of technical achievement. Even more wasteful are the numerous inventions that do get incorporated into products that then fail.

Little wonder that new technology-based businesses have long had a reputation as unsound investments. As Gleason Archer wrote as early as 1938 in the History of Radio to 1926: “Fifteen years is about the average period of probation, and during that time the inventor, the promoter and the investor, who see a great future for the invention, generally lose their shirts. Public demand even for a great invention is always slow in developing. That is why the wise capitalist keeps out of exploiting new inventions.”¹ Even today, the shares of companies bringing a new technology to market get uncharitably referred to as “binary events”: they can either be worth nothing, or a lot, nothing in between.

What causes these failures and why such uncertainty? Why, for instance, did food irradiation with gamma rays using radioactive Cobalt-60 or Cesium-137 not meet with success? Astronauts on the Columbia Space Shuttle flights had already successfully dined on beef, pork, smoked turkey, and corned beef that had been sterilized with such nuclear radiation. Third world countries, where refrigeration is scanty or nonexistent and where stored-food spoilage sometimes claims up to 50 percent of the food crop, could obviously benefit from this technology. So could developed countries where this technology offered a viable alternative to the use of maligned chemical additives and where foods treated by this method were demonstrated to retain more of their original appearance, taste, and texture than canned, heat-treated food.² Even now, after the World Health Organization gave strong backing to this technique in October 1994, people remain skeptical.

What is it that causes some technologies to succeed while others, sometimes initially more meritorious, don’t even get a chance? There are no simple answers, and each technology’s history is unique in some way. Yet, seeking answers is key not only to understanding technological innovation but also to reassuring companies that are looking for new growth opportunities today.

THE FIVE KEY SUBPROCESSES IN TECHNOLOGY COMMERCIALIZATION AND THEIR BRIDGES

Some technologies fail because they get incorporated in products for which the anticipated demand never materializes. Others continue to search for suitable products, sometimes over decades, without being incorporated into any product at all. Then there are those that fail because they cannot live up to their promised capability when being demonstrated, or attract insufficient interest and resources to have such demonstrations made. Finally, the entry to market itself has constituted an intractable obstacle in some cases. Like one-day wonders, some technologies have made a fleeting appearance, never to be heard from again. Their problem was one of positioning and delivery. They could neither gain adequate market pene tration, nor could they sustain their commercialization for a variety of competitive reasons.

In understanding what went wrong, one needs to know where in the commercialization chain problems occurred and why. In the dozen or so technologies the author studied over time, the following were the typical activities where things could go wrong:

The linking of a technological discovery to a worthwhile and exciting market opportunity;

Having the technology endorsed early by those whose opinion matters;

Incubating the technology sufficiently to understand its true potential, including whether it will ever be cost-effective enough to merit taking further;

Mobilizing adequate resources for its demonstration;

Successfully demonstrating the technology for the context in which it is to be used;

Mobilizing the market constituents needed for gaining market acceptance and delivering the benefits of the technology;

Promoting the final products and processes to an often skeptical customer group;

Choosing an appropriate business formula for gaining access to the required business system;

and Sustaining commercialization so as to realize value from the technology after it has been launched.

Technology commercialization, in other words, is about performing successfully a range of things, each adding value to the technology as it progresses. Being proficient at one or two of them and clumsy in the remaining brings down the average result; worse, it can abort a technology’s progression midstream.

As pictured in Figure 1-1, five of these activities constitute the key subprocesses involved in bringing new technologies to market: imagining a techno-market insight; incubating the technology to define its commercializability; demonstrating it contextually in products and/or processes; promoting the latter’s adoption; and sustaining commercialization. As important as these subprocesses are the four bridges between them. While the former involve problem solving of a technical or marketing nature— doing things to the technology, so to speak—these bridges are associated with mobilizing resources around it. They have to do with satisfying the various stakeholders of the technology at each stage, without whom the technology’s value does not get recognized, nor is there an impulse to take it further. Thus the bridges are value-creating activities in their own right.

These bridges evoke an important reality about the innovation process—that it is fundamentally an exercise in stakeholder management. Many technologies fail not because of the technical skills of their proponents, nor because of the market to which they are targeted. They fail simply because no one got sufficiently interested in them at the right time.

What follows is a description of the main issues that arise in managing the five subprocesses and in bridging them successfully. The concluding section then discusses how the overall model presented compares with conventional stage-by-stage descriptions of the innovation process and why it is especially relevant in today’s environment.

Imagining

The notion of commercialization as a process of value recognition means that it starts at the idea stage itself. For technology-based innovations, this is when the prospects for a technical breakthrough get combined with a potentially attractive market opportunity.

Competition in the commercialization process also actually starts right here. The competition for ideas, if anything, is as keen as the competition one sees between products and services in the marketplace—perhaps more so. It is here that most new technological discoveries get weaned out, despite the enormous work that may have gone into their elaboration.

An illustration of the high attrition rate of ideas is provided by the experience of the Danish Product Idea (PI) support scheme set up in 1972 and administered by the Danish Technological Institute (DTI). With a mission to advise inventors and find partners for them, DTI started a “scout” scheme in 1977 to search out relevant research at institutions of higher education, thereby adding to the ideas directly brought to it by inventors. Between 1985 and 1990, out of the approximately 5,000 ideas collected from inventors and public sector researchers, only 350 (7 percent) were retained as original and worth pursuing; 94 passed the next level of assessment in terms of patentability and got licensed to companies; 30 products actually got produced by the licensee; and 15 products were still in production in 1991.³ While the PI experience is somewhat more discouraging than comparable ones in Italy and the United Kingdom, it is illustrative nonetheless.

The fact that most inventions do not get commercialized should also be viewed as normal, not attributable to special problems associated with technology commercialization alone. Because ideas come cheap, there are so many of them generated all the time, all clamoring for the attention of re source providers—and their interests at the time determine each idea’s fate.

The best and most quoted example is that of Chester Carlson, trying in vain to interest others in his electrophotography (xerography) idea. After filing his patent application in 1937, Carlson approached as many as twenty-one companies, including the likes of IBM, RCA, and Eastman Kodak. While the invention worked, it resulted in copies that were barely legible. No one was willing to commit the funds and research support needed to perfect what to Carlson was an eminently useful invention. After seven years of frustrating search, Battele Development Corporation finally agreed to devote the needed resources in 1944 because one of its physicists became intrigued by the idea.

Contrast this with the more recent experience of Ariad Pharmaceuticals Inc., a biotechnology start-up based in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Set up in 1991 by Harvey J. Berger, the former head of R&D at Centocor, the company’s mission was to research new types of drugs based on the phenomenon of signal transduction—the signal sent by a cell’s receptor to the DNA within it. While many had speculated about the role these signals play in causing disease, and the potential payoff from interrupting or controlling them, the phenomenon itself was ill understood. Yet, because of the promising nature of the research and the cast of scientists backing it, the company was able to raise $46 million in one round of financing—long before even a proof of principle had been demonstrated.

Given the enormous success Carlson’s idea subsequently enjoyed, it is hard to pinpoint the reasons for its being ignored compared to Ariad’s idea. Carlson, after all, had already demonstrated a prototype, while Ariad’s idea was still unproven. Moreover, while the xerography idea was unique, there were many others thinking about and researching signal transduction at the time Ariad raised its funds.

The judgment of whether ideas are worth pursuing is highly subjective. Some stakeholders place greater importance on ideas’ technical merit, while others are more attracted to their market potential. The famous “not invented here” (NIH) syndrome is not simply a manifestation of narrowmindedness on the part of those judging; it often reflects an alternative view of the future, based on different information perhaps. Compounding this is the “herd instinct” observable in stock markets, which makes the discrepancies between technology valuations even more pronounced. People favor one technology over another in a disproportionate manner at a point in time, as evidenced by recent initial public offerings related to the Internet.

Incubating

Getting a new idea recognized and endorsed to be worth pursuing is, of course, only the start. The commitment of resources and risk capital to develop it requires taking the idea a few steps further. The idea needs to be proved in some unequivocal manner, both technologically and in terms of the need(s) it is supposed to fulfill. This incubation to define its commercializability expresses what is required substantively as well as figuratively as the “defining moment”—when considerably greater resources start to be devoted to the technology. Just as the preceding stage represented a competition for ideas, this stage has to do with the competition among technologies for the application(s) intended and the products to be built.

The need to define commercializability well applies especially to lone inventors, university researchers, and small companies. They need to convince others about the potential a new technology offers in order to secure grants, obtain venture capital, or mobilize research support. Yet they often fail to present their technologies in an attractive enough form to be appreciated by potential partners. They fail to consider what else will be needed to commercialize their invention. They fail to place their intellectual property rights in a commercial context and don’t take the trouble to advance the technology to the point when it really becomes attractive.

As those who support early technologies know, judging which technology is commercializable is not easy either. Consequently, many venture capitalists tend to back the proponent of the technology rather than the technology itself. What they expect to do thereby is simply to improve the sheer probability that things will get done right. Brought up and then subsequently annealed by a litany of Murphy’s-type laws, they look for a good agent to carry things forward—one whose instincts are to correct things when they go wrong, not to discover other grounds to conquer.

One source of difficulty in judging commercializability is an imperfect understanding of the principles underlying the technology itself, which has stymied many discoveries for decades.

A case in point is that of electrorheological fluids. These so-called smart fluids were discovered and patented by Willis Winslow in the late 1940s, and some claim they were first concocted 100 years ago. Consisting of a suspension of fine particles in a nonconducting oil, they have the property of converting themselves into a gel-like solid when subject to an electric voltage. When the current is removed, they revert to the liquid state almost instantaneously (in between 0.0001 to 0.001 seconds). Moreover, this gelling or stiffening is proportional to the voltage applied.⁴

Numerous applications for these smart fluids had been conceived of from the beginning. Voltage-sensitive actuators, clutches, valves, fishing rods that are flexible during casting but stiffen when a fish bites, and even the proofing of buildings against earthquakes were just a few obvious ones. None of these applications, however, was perfected, let alone commercialized. But this has not meant abandoning the principle. As recently as 1989, yet another report claimed that these fluids “will result in the redesign of up to 50 percent of all hydraulic systems and devices.”⁵ Overall, a $20 billion annual market seems to lie in prospect.

The reasons why no applications have yet been commercialized can all be traced to an inadequate understanding of the principle itself. A number of models have been proposed to explain the phenomenon, but there is no consensus yet. This has made it difficult to tackle a number of practical problems associated with the technology: the settling down of particles, temperature sensitivity, inadequate sheer strength, and the requirement for exceptionally high voltage.

Another concern is uncertainty about the future trajectory of a new tech nology and the rapidity with which its performance will advance. This causes several technologies to be backed for the same application, hoping one will serve the purpose but diluting the resources available to each.

A good illustration of the competition one sees at the level of technological approaches is that of flat-panel displays. The search for thin displays started almost with the introduction of the first cathode ray tube (CRT), and people imagined “wall television” decades back. With such a large and assured market, the only challenge was a technical one.

Ever since their introduction in the early 1970s in watches and calculators, liquid crystal displays have been the chief contender for flat dis-play. With a power consumption of only 0.002 percent of comparable lightemitting displays, they quickly found applications in a range of portable devices. As progress was made in improving their contrast, broadening their viewing angle, and increasing their response rate to electrical signals, the range of their applications grew, and so did the experience of companies pursuing them. A further impetus was given to this technology in the 1980s with the development of color displays and active matrices using thin film transistors (TFTs). Starting in the mid-1980s, however, a number of other competing technologies emerged to satisfy the need for larger and brighter displays in portable computers and television sets. These included ferroelectric displays (a form of liquid crystal display [LCD] technology that does not require transistors to switch the liquid crystal cells), elec troluminescent displays, and plasma displays. More recently, conjugated polymer-based light-emitting diodes have joined the fray because of their structural flexibility and potentially easier and less costly manufacturing process. Judging the commercalizability of any one of these technologies requires assessing the future trajectory of performance of all the others.

A final challenge in defining commercializability has to do with estimating market opportunities and the time frame in which they will materialize. With more and more inventors chasing the same technological discovery and application, periodic shakeouts in R&D programs are inevitable.

This is, for example, what happened to composite materials over the past decade or so. Anticipating a huge market for lightweight, superstrong, heat-resistant materials, virtually all the major chemical companies (as well as some nonchemical ones) launched major research programs in this area starting in the late 1970s. Because of cost and safety concerns in the applications to which they were targeted—mainly aerospace—there was an immediate glut in research capacity. By the early 1990s, many of the early entrants had started either to divest their activities (notably BASF of Germany and Courtaulds PLC of the United Kingdom) or to scale them back (as ICI did with its Advanced Materials division).

Demonstrating

Taking a new technology up to the point where it gets recognized to be commercializable is often easy compared to what comes next—demonstrating it in marketable products or processes. This is the stage associated with product development. Unlike other products, those that derive from a new technological capability require walking a tightrope between conceiving of something customers will buy and being able to implement it with the technology at hand.

An illustration of this tightrope is what happened with picturephones. First offered by AT&T in the mid-1960s, this product was plagued by a combination of technological and design problems for almost three decades. The 1964 picturephone was capable of sending only still, black-and-white pictures, largely on account of the limited carrying capacity of phone lines. With the introduction of color, this limit on transmission capacity became worse. In fact, despite the use of advanced image compression technologies, the videophones being introduced until recently could still send and receive only ten color picture frames a second—too few to give true real-time images. Compact light-sensitive cameras and clear displays are just now beginning to be introduced. But, until such time that all the pieces come together in a form consumers want, the technology will remain on the fringes. And technology is not the only reason for this. Users will need to get used to the product concept itself. Some continue to believe it adds little to phone conversations and sometimes even gets in the way. The acoustical intimacy of a phone call is shattered by visual imagery; while many would like to see their caller, they don’t wish to be seen themselves.

Conceiving of products just because technology makes them possible can be treacherous, but this is often less of a problem than actually getting the technology to work. A good example is IBM’s beam addressable storage technology. Invented by Praveen Chaudhari, the former vice president of science, and some of his colleagues at IBM’s Yorktown Heights laboratory in the early 1970s, this consisted of recording and reading information using a high-speed solid-state laser.

This magneto-optic technology, based on a phenomenon known as ferrimagnetism, today constitutes the heart of all writable compact discs. It is used for everything from data storage to music and multimedia discs. At the time of the invention, however, two things were missing—the necessary complementary technologies and a product concept that fit what the market was demanding.

As for the technology, solid-state lasers were at that time neither reliable nor cheap enough to make this invention a viable competitor to inductive recording. While scaling up the process and improving the basic invention to get adequate signal-to-noise ratios was also considered necessary, this had to wait until the laser problem was solved.

From a product-market standpoint, the new technology’s principal advantage lay in creating high-density, decentralized storage media—not central or off-line mass storage devices, which were popular at that time. It was actually the personal computer industry in the late 1980s and erasable compact discs more recently that became significant users of the technology—both totally unanticipated at the time of the invention. In the meantime, IBM had licensed its patents to others, and the first products using the technology started to come from Japan. It is only recently that IBM itself began incorporating the technology in its own disk drives—nearly fifteen years after inventing it.

The challenge of marrying a new technology’s function with marketworthy end products lies behind many of the delays and cost overruns in commercialization. In some cases, one needs to expand the scope of the research beyond what was initially foreseen. In others, one ends up making compromises at the product level because that is all the technology can deliver at that time. Often both are involved.

Promoting

Very few inventions, no matter how well conceived and demonstrated, get an automatic reception by the market. As Myers and Sweezy found in studying 200 failed innovations, three-quarters of them were stopped only after they had made it to the pilot test stage; as many as one-fifth were actually stopped at the final, most expensive stage of production installation. In other words, 85 percent of all innovations that ultimately failed continued to be funded beyond the relatively economical phase of assessment and initiation. By far the greatest cause of their subsequent failure lay in the marketplace. As many as 27.5 percent of new product and process technologies were scuttled because of “uncontrollable” market factors. Another 26 percent failed because of limited sales potential and an inability to find buyers for something that was apparently developed “in the public interest.”⁶

Regardless of how extensively one performs market research prior to developing a product, acceptance by the market is never assured. Technology-based innovations encounter the same set of problems any new product concept does—the need to create a market where usually none exists. Therefore, market acceptance often involves a complex socioeconomic process over which one seldom has complete control. Steven Lubar, in reviewing a recent book on technological winners, captures the essence of what usually happens:

Things don’t evolve; they are pushed in different directions by the decisions of inventors, manufacturers, marketers, and users, people who have economic, social, and cultural as well as practical reasons to remake technological artifacts in ways that serve them best. For example, people managed just fine without the zipper. It took zipper manufacturers some 20 years of marketing to convince the public it needed zippers. Even then, the zipper was adopted not because of “need” or because button flies failed but because of cultural ideas about modernity and fashion.⁷

For many new technologies the promotional challenge has two dimensions.

One has to do with persuading people to adopt. Whether they do so for the reasons an inventor has in mind, or they invent their own reasons for adoption, they are sometimes discouraged by the effort they need to put in. This is especially true of technologies that require a new set of skills, work procedures, and standards before they become widely commercialized. These are what some refer to as “transilient innovations,”⁸ which set in motion a sequence of events that can disrupt, destroy, and make obsolete established competence, or create totally new organizations and industries. One example is the cochlear implant, a biomedical device enabling profoundly deaf people to discriminate sound. Approved by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) in November 1984, the cochlear implant is a substitute for conventional hearing aids, which served only individuals with impaired hearing, not the profoundly deaf. Its commercialization has required the development of new diagnostic and surgical procedures, service facilities, and trained technicians, as well as new competencies in R&D, manufacturing, and marketing. It also required the creation of new industry practices and FDA regulations and standards of efficacy and safety for such devices.⁹

The other dimension relates to the infrastructure that has to be created in order to deliver the technology’s full benefit. This is the kind of problem Edison had to deal with in getting customers to adopt electric lighting. They were already well served with piped gas, so he had to create an entirely new distribution infrastructure for them, constantly balancing his generation and transmission capacity in line with it.

Delivering a technology’s benefits does not necessarily imply the creation of an altogether new infrastructure. Sometimes the challenge is getting parts of the infrastructure already in place to adopt it. The experience the Bakelite Company had in introducing vinyl floor products illustrates the problem well. The product was ready in 1931, and Bakelite even made some vinyl tiles itself, which it installed in its Vinylite Plastics House at the Chicago World Fair in 1933. Yet, despite the demonstrated advantage of the product over existing floor coverings, such as linoleum and rubber, it took until 1947 for the company to convince a floor products manufacturer to start making and selling it.

At first it was a matter of price. During the 1930s, vinyl resin prices were at a level that made it uncompetitive compared to linoleum (based on linseed oil) and asphalt tiles (based on coumarone indene, a coal tar derivative). Later the problem became the process. Vinyl flooring was made by a totally different process from that used for manufacturing linoleum, the floor covering material against which continuous vinyl competed most directly. This made it difficult to convince linoleum producers who saw vinyl not only compete against their existing product but involve additional investments as well.¹⁰

Existing infrastructures are all vestiges of a predecessor technology. While initially created by companies to commercialize what were then innovative technologies, they gradually become barriers protecting these earlier investments. To change the infrastructure already in place, or worse, to create an altogether new one, requires first the manifestation of sufficient demand for the new technology. But, as many innovators have found, the demand itself presupposes the existence of infrastructure. Breaking out of this chicken-and-egg conundrum takes enormous perseverance and, often, investments greater than those required to develop the technology itself.

Sustaining

The key to realizing value from any new technology, of course, is to make sure the products and processes incorporating it enjoy a long presence on the market and that a fair share of the long-term value they generate are appropriated by the technology’s initiator. With rapid product (and tech nology) obsolescence and the constant entry of new competitors, this is often the hardest part. In fact, it is precisely here that many start-up companies fail.

An important caveat is that sustaining a technology’s commercialization does not mean persevering against all odds. That is self-defeating. A technology that is found to be intrinsically deficient should be abandoned quickly unless other good applications are found for it.

This, for example, applies to the Stirling engine. Although it was patented first in 1816 by Robert Stirling and produced more or less continuously between 1818 and 1922, it never quite achieved the same level of acceptance as steam, electric, and spark-ignition technology.

Based on a closed system, where heat is applied from outside the cylinder, Stirling engines are known to have the following major advantages over internal combustion (IC) ones: They are inherently more efficient from an energy standpoint; they can use just about any fuel ranging from liquid hydrocarbons and biomass to radioisotopes without engine modification; they are considerably less polluting; they run more quietly and are free of vibration; and they can be used in a variety of applications where IC engines are impractical.

Since development work on these engines was resuscitated by Philips of Holland in 1938 and by General Motors in 1958, most of their technical drawbacks were also overcome. Yet very few applications for the technology emerged. At times, it was a matter of cost. Mass-produced Stirling engines required expensive heat exchangers (heater, cooler, and regenerator) and needed to be made of strong, heat-resistant materials that are expensive and hard to machine. They also needed to be intricately constructed to give the somewhat larger heat transfer surface area these engines need compared to IC engines. Compared to the other alternatives being pursued for automobiles, they were found to be technically complex, slowstarting, and not sufficiently powerful. The experience and infrastructure established around the Otto cycle IC engine (see Chapter 10) became a progressively greater barrier too. The result of all this is that Stirling engines have rightly attracted only sporadic and low-level interest, relegating them to small niche applications.

For technologies that do offer potential, sustaining commercialization should be seen as a planned activity. It requires taking purposeful measures to bring costs down, constantly improving it, and paying attention to the various forces that influence its use vis-à-vis competing technologies. One also needs to consider carefully how much to sustain the use of the technology itself versus the business it has helped create. Dropping it too soon can mean truncating the returns from the investments made in it earlier. Staying with it too long, on the other hand, can mean being blindsided by better, more competitive technologies as they emerge.

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