Academic literature on the topic 'Fenced industrial'

One of the most serious threats to a modern country's trade, industry and long-term economic development is cyber espionage and insiders. The activities are directed against high-technological industries and companies with advanced basic research. The defence and telecoms sectors are of particular interest, just as biotechnics, medical and material technology. Behind this kind of espionage there may be individual states and security services as well as competing companies. One trend is that criminal players are getting involved both as thieves and fences of information. Computerisation and the development of the Internet drastically increase the possibility of procuring sensitive information through illegal means. This can be done in different ways. In the paper the convergence between industrial- and cyber espionage are discussed. A number of examples are provided of different kinds of espionage as well as some of the methods that is used to collect information over the Internet – such as signals intelligence, monitoring of traffic, penetration and overtaking of computers with the aid of trojans. Examples are given on succesful cybertheft operations such as the operation Buckshot Yankee and the Chinese Ghostnet. The paper ends with a discussion on how to improve information security in organisations in order to reduce the risks for illegitimate information drainage.

This chapter centers on Daniels's interviews with Birmingham industrialist Charles F. DeBardeleben and labor organizer William Mitch of the United Mine Workers (UMW) and Congress of Industrial Organizations (CIO). DeBardeleben's biography begins with his grandfather, Daniel Pratt, and his father, Henry Fairchild DeBardeleben. Both were industrialists whose investments in coal, iron, and steel contributed to the development of Birmingham. Charles F. DeBardeleben followed in his father's footsteps as a staunch antiunionist. He claimed to be a paternalist yet used fences and armed guards to isolate his workers, resulting in a deadly shooting at the Acmar mine of his Alabama Fuel and Iron Company in 1935. Meanwhile, the passage of the National Industrial Recovery Act (NIRA) in 1933 facilitated the growth of the CIO, and William Mitch's efforts to cultivate interracial unionism in Birmingham in the 1930s were largely successful. The chapter concludes by noting that DeBardeleben's alleged fascist ties are difficult to document and seem less significant than his anticommunist rhetoric and switch to the Republican Party, both of which provide an early glimpse of tactics recalcitrant white southerners would employ to prevent social and racial change in the post-World War II years.

This chapter is about understanding the cycle of global copper price booms and busts over Zambia’s economic history. We explore how the mining industry has been managed, and wider economic management during boom periods. We find that successive Zambian governments did not use copper revenues to accumulate productive assets, focusing instead on financing consumption subsidies and sustaining inefficient state-owned companies. In recent times, Zambia has accumulated worryingly high levels of sovereign debt with virtually no prospect of official debt relief. Nonetheless, a reasonable chance exists of avoiding debt distress, provided the authorities consistently pursue strong fiscal management and discipline. Ultimately, Zambia’s ability to ring-fence and prudently use the mineral revenues from copper mining in building productive capacities remains elusive. Instead recurrent consumption expenditure demands dominate the fiscal landscape and the agenda of the fiscal authorities.

Launched in 1995 with the discovery of more than seventy enslaved Thai workers in a suburban apartment complex surrounded by barbed wire fence, the movement to end garment sweatshops—led by the Asian Pacific American Legal Center—pioneered the integration of strategic litigation and worker organizing to challenge inequality in Los Angeles. The sweatshop regime was built upon a legal foundation of subcontracting, which insulated retailers and manufacturers from the contractors actually producing clothing. At its most ambitious, the campaign sought to make legal responsibility follow economic power, rupturing the fiction that protected retailers and manufacturers from labor abuses such as those uncovered in the Thai worker case. Chapter 2 shows how lawyers built a powerful alliance with labor and grassroots organizers, won important legal victories in court, and achieved passage of a landmark state law creating manufacturer liability for contract labor violations. It then traces the campaign through the fierce battle against retailer Forever 21, which showed the power of industry countermobilization and ultimately marked the end of the litigation campaign. This outcome underscored a central lesson of legal mobilization in the new economy: Individual enforcement and litigation strategies, even when paired with innovative organizing and media campaigns, faced long odds challenging abuse enabled by extensive contracting and—crucially—the threat of global outsourcing. However, in fusing law and organizing, the anti-sweatshop campaign marked a new beginning in the movement against low-wage work—one that would deploy the tools honed in the garment manufacturing context to target Los Angeles’s immobile service industries.

Twenty-two-year-old Aldo Leopold arrived in Albuquerque, New Mexico Territory, in July 1909, burning with the “fervor of a sawdust evangelist.” The Forest Service had sent him to his first choice—District 3, encompassing the twenty-one forests of the South and Southwest. His duties were outlined in his manual: preserve a perpetual supply of timber for home industries, prevent destruction of forest cover (which regulates the flow of streams), and protect local industries from unfair competition in the use of forest and range. The district chief was Arthur Ringland, a stocky, energetic Yale graduate only a few years older than Leopold. Ringland sensed the new graduate’s enthusiasm and assigned him to the wildest lands in the district—the Apache National Forest in Arizona Territory. The land had originally belonged to the Apache Nation, but in 1886, the US Army forced most of the members onto a nearby reservation. This left but a few ranchers, farmers, and miners in the region. The forest headquarters rested in Springerville, Arizona, a two-day stagecoach ride from the last railroad stop. No automobiles carved tire treads over these plateaus and canyons. Travel was by foot, horse, or mule. Forest Assistant Leopold, the newest greenhorn among many, wasted no time in purchasing a feisty gray stallion called Jiminy Hicks, a saddle, a rope, and a few good roping lessons. Within the month, he also acquired pistols and a “rubber butt plate” for those long days in the saddle. The rubber plate came in handy since Aldo put in a good deal of time astride Jiminy Hicks. Throughout July and the beginning of August, Leopold inspected trees, marked them for cutting, planted seed plots, fixed fences, and met the other rangers. Working under Supervisor John D. Guthrie, Aldo contributed his two bits on policy decisions about grazing permits, water rights, and timber sales. Guthrie’s long hours and dedicated stance inspired the young ranger. The simplicity of life on the range, where one had to live out of a pack, made Leopold feel tough and free. On his own time, he hunted, mapped out the forest for himself, climbed mountains, and tested trout streams.

For most Love Canal residents in the mid-1970s, owning a house in a relatively new subdivision offered tangible proof that they had achieved the American Dream. The pretty tree-lined streets bisecting the ten-block neighborhood colloquially known for the old canal that once ran through the area contained rows of attractive and affordable housing stock. Kids walked to schools located only blocks away while their parents talked to one another like longtime friends. Many area fathers had secure, well-paying jobs in Niagara Falls’ thriving industrial and chemical sectors, lending an aura of confidence to Love Canal life. While many American communities were still reeling from the tumultuous politics of the Vietnam War, the Love Canal neighborhood appeared to be a quiet, family-friendly oasis. Who wouldn’t want to live there? Lois Gibbs, a young housewife and mother of two who moved into the area in 1974, certainly felt blessed. “If you drove down my street before Love Canal,” she would later write (referring to the crisis that redefined the place), “you might have thought it looked like a typical American small town that you would see in a movie—neat bungalows, many painted white, with neatly clipped hedges or freshly painted fences.” It was, she continued, a “lovely neighborhood in a quiet residential area, with lots of trees and lots of children playing outside.” So powerful was the sense of paradise that Gibbs did not pay much attention to early news reports about a leaking toxic dump somewhere in Niagara Falls. Those poor people, she thought. Wherever they are, I hope they will get the help they need. Thankfully, it was not her neighborhood. Like many of her friends, Gibbs focused on family and home, not the looming tragedy of hazardous waste—and certainly not the global cause of environmental justice. A snapshot of the Love Canal area during the tumultuous summer of 1978 offered a completely different picture. Gone were the peaceful images of home life; in their place, illness, uncertainty, and rage reigned supreme.

Achieving widespread access by all European citizens to new services and advanced applications of the information society is one of the crucial goals of the European Union’s (EU) strategic framework for the future. Towards realizing this primary target, multiple access platforms are expected to become available, using different access methods for delivery of services (and of related digital content) to a wide variety of end-user terminals, thus creating an “always-on” and properly “converged” technological and business environment, all able to support and to promote innovation and growth (Commission of the European Communities, 2005). The result will be a “complementarity” of services and markets in an increasingly sophisticated way. Economic and technology choices imply certain networks for certain service options. As these networks become more powerful, the temptation is to adapt certain characteristics of the network technology to make it suitable for modern services. The challenge is to build “bridges” or “links” between the different convergent technologies without undermining the business models on which they are built. In such a context, converging technology means that innovative systems and services are under development with inputs, contributions, and traditions from multiple industries, including telecommunications, broadcasting, Internet service provision, computer and software industries, and media and publishing industries, where the significance of standardization and interoperability can be fundamental. In any case, digital technology can offer the potential for realizing the future electronic information highways or integrated broadband communications. However, for the multiplatform environment to proliferate in liberalized markets and for the platforms themselves to complement each other, the related prerequisites and the governing regulatory environment must favor technologically neutral conditions for competition, without giving preference to one platform over others (Chochliouros & Spiliopoulou, 2005a). Among the latest European priorities for further development of the information society sector as described above were several efforts for extending the role of digital television based on a multiplatform approach (European Commission, 2002a). If widely implemented, digital (interactive) television may complement existing PC- and Internet-based access, thus offering a potential alternative for market evolution (Chochliouros, Spiliopoulou, Chochliouros, & Kaloxylos, 2006). In particular, following current market trends, digital television and third generation (3G) mobile systems driven by commonly adopted standards can open up significant possibilities for a variety of platform access to services, offering great features of substitution and complementarity. The same option holds for the supporting networks as well (European Commission, 2003a). Within the above fast developing and fully evolutionary context, the thematic objective of digital video broadcasting (DVB) applications (including both the underlying network infrastructures and corresponding services offered) can influence a great variety of areas (http://www.dvb.org). In particular, DVB stands as a suite of internationally accepted open standards, mainly related to digital television- and data-oriented applications. These standards (in most cases already tested and adopted in the global marketplace) are maintained by the so-called DVB Project, an industry-driven consortium with more than 300 distinct members, and they are officially published by a joint technical committee (JTC) of the European Telecommunications Standards Institute (ETSI), the European Committee for Electrotechnical Standardization (CENELEC), and the European Broadcasting Union (EBU). The existing DVB standards cover all aspects of digital television, that is, from transmission through interfacing, conditional access, and interactivity for digital video, audio, and data. In particular, DVB not only includes the transmission and distribution of television program material in digital format over various media, but also a choice of associated features (considered for exploiting capabilities of all underlying technologies). However, market benefits can be best achieved if a “harmonized” approach, based on a longterm perspective, is adopted since the beginning of all corresponding efforts, intending to facilitate a progressive development towards new (and more advanced) services in a smooth and compatible manner (Oxera, 2003). An essential precondition for this progress is the adoption, in the market sector, of common standards which, while providing necessary clarity for both producers and consumers in the short term for early introduction of digital television facilities, also supply the potential for subsequent smooth upgrading to new and higher grades of service. Thus, in the framework of competitive and liberalized environments DVB can support major efforts for the penetration (and the effective adoption) of enhanced multimedia-based services (Fenger & Elwood-Smith, 2000) independently of the type and/or format of the content offered while simultaneously promoting broadband opportunities. Furthermore, being fully conformant to the requirements imposed by convergence’s aspect, DVB can advance optimized solutions for different technical communications platforms. The European market has been widely developed in the area of (interactive) digital television (Chochliouros et al., 2006; European Commission, 2003b) and the EU is now leading further deployment through DVB procedures. The focus provided by a common set of technical standards and specifications has given a market advantage and spurred the appearance of innovation perspectives. Baseband: 1) In radio communications systems, the range of frequencies, starting at 0 Hz (DC) and extending up to an upper frequency as required to carry information in electronic form, such as a bitstream, before it is modulated onto a carrier in transmission or after it is demodulated from a carrier in reception. 2) In cable communications, such as those of a local area network (LAN), a method whereby signals are transmitted without prior frequency conversion.

Resource industries are present in the post-industrial city in a mutable state, as the goods of global trade pass through as interim piles (salt, sand, and gravel), in holding tanks (petroleum), and silos (cement). The flow of resources is fundamental to urban life and shapes the urban landscape, yet engagement with this mode of industry in the city has been largely outside the realm of the design disciplines. If Reyner Banham’s Los Angeles was made legible through the mediating lens of the windshield and the rear-view mirror, then the constructed landscapes of primary resources in today’s pos

The reduction of noise emitted by industrial low speed cooling fans, particularly those fitted to air conditioning systems is a concern to fan manufacturers. The market for industrial low speed fans is highly competitive, with fan noise being the major differentiating factor between competing products. Noise reduction strategies are therefore implemented but these can adversely affect the fan’s pressure delivery capability. A reduction of fan speed can also lead to a reduction in fan noise but this is usually accompanied by a corresponding reduction in pressure rise and flow rate. The practica

Some industrial processes are associated with the flow of aqueous foams inside horizontal channels. Examples are found in the oil, food and cosmetic industries. This type of flow presents an important pressure loss, originated from the shear stress exerted by the channel walls. Foam flow is one of the most complex fluids. In a macroscopic point of view, the physical-chemical interaction between the bubbles can be related to some non-Newtonian models (Bingham law, power law, etc.) or an apparent viscosity. These last can represent the internal deformations of fluid elements when shear stress is