PROFESSOR SIR PETER HALL: ROLE MODEL
Sir Peter Hall: From Kondratieff Waves
to the Soul of the Delta
YUKO AOYAMA
I had been fortunate to know Professor Peter Hall as a student at Berkeley. This essay
is about my memory of Peter as a scholar, teacher, and mentor. I wish to highlight
Peter’s versatility in his scholarship, by focusing on his work creativity and the city
in his book, Cities in Civilization. To me, it demonstrates his phenomenal range of
interests and his open curiosity to all things urban. Peter continues to be the most
inspiring scholar I have met.
I have been blessed with meeting an amazing
number of brilliant, talented scholars over the
years. But only a handful remains in my heart
as true and inspiring role models. I idolized
Peter, as a scholar, teacher, and mentor.
Nobody ever came remotely close.
In spite of his perfect British accent and
white locks of hair, Peter belied the image of
an old-fashioned scholar with aloof distance.
He was fabulously open as an individual,
always very curious about ideas, people,
and, as I demonstrate in the subsequent
sections, many other things. He always wore
an enchanted look, ready to be delighted by
new discoveries.
I first met Peter at a conference in Paris
in November 1990. At the time I worked at
OECD’s Urban Affairs Division. The division
was small, headed by a German official from
the Housing Ministry, and two permanent
staff, one French and the other Scottish,
and a few project-based consultants. I owed
my position to my immediate supervisor,
Joanne Fox-Przeworski, an American who
later served as an administrator at the United
Nations Environment Programme (UNEP)
and a founding director of the Environmental
School at Bard College in up-state New York.
As a highly energetic individual and the only
PhD holder in the division, Joanne proposed
78
to sponsor a conference unlike many others
held at OECD at the time. Instead of meetings
with mostly government officials, and a few
academics assigned to the task of drafting
project reports, Joanne planned an event in
which dialogues could take place between
policy-makers and scholars. Entitled ‘Cities
and New Technologies’, this conference attracted
the attendance of urban policy-makers, including the mayors and vice-mayors of
Athens, Toronto, and Osaka, as well as
notable experts in technologies and urban
governance, such as Mitchell Moss (NYU),
Rémy Prud’homme (Paris XII), Neil Wrigley
(Southampton, UK), and Mark Hepworth
(now at Loughborough, UK). To top off the
event, Joanne invited Peter to deliver a keynote speech.
I still remember the day Joanne came
bouncing into my office with her trademark
enigmatic smile, announcing that she successfully convinced Peter to fly from Berkeley
to deliver the keynote speech. We rejoiced!
Of course, I knew of his work primarily
through the textbooks he authored, Urban
and Regional Planning, and Great Planning
Disasters, which I read as a master’s student
at UCLA. But as the youngest member of
the organizing committee and just a couple
of years beyond a master’s degree, I was not
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SIR PETER HALL: FROM KONDRATIEFF WAVES TO THE SOUL OF THE DELTA
Figure 1. The author in her
office at OECD together with
a German colleague.
even sure if I would have a chance to engage
in conversations beyond superficial logistics
with any of the presenters, let alone with
Peter. But somehow it happened, purely
owing to his openness and approachability,
which did not change throughout his life.
On meeting him, I cautiously expressed my
interest in applying for the PhD programme
at Berkeley. At the time, the aspirations
of friends and peers around me strongly
swayed towards seeking out permanent
positions, and pursuing successful careers
in international civil service, all the while
living in Paris and enjoying all that it had
to offer, even though the cynics among
them called international civil service ‘a
BUILT ENVIRONMENT VOL 41 NO 1
golden cage’; once inside, it would become
increasingly impossible to leave. I too was
aware of the benefits of the job; it helped me
broaden my horizon considerably. But I felt
exiled culturally, geographically, and even
at times intellectually. I liked the high-level
policy work at the international level, and
enjoyed the company of highly educated,
multicultural colleagues, yet the expatriate
community can be transient, exclusionary
and isolating. Moreover, somehow doing
urban policy work from an organization
represented by national governments felt
a few steps too far removed from on-theground realities, and influencing policy
from the top-down did not seem particularly
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PROFESSOR SIR PETER HALL: ROLE MODEL
effective, nor ideal. I was worried that I
would lose touch on various counts. Besides,
I sorely missed California.
When I conveyed to him my ambivalence
towards pursuing a career in international
civil service, Peter responded without missing
a beat, ‘Oh, I know exactly. My brother has
been with UNESCO for 20 years’. I remember
letting out a sigh of relief. I was relieved to
realize that Peter knew this context well.
I do not remember exactly what else was
said, but it was not a long conversation. Peter
encouraged me to apply for the programme.
Out of youthful anxieties and full of selfdoubt, I somehow did not believe that his
encouragement was genuine. Perhaps sensing
it, Peter made a point of stopping by before
departure to encourage me again to apply.
Only on arrival at Berkeley, did I discover
that he had voluntarily submitted a note to
the PhD admission committee expressing his
support for my candidacy. I still remember
the thin blue sheet of Berkeley letterhead
paper on which he had typed this brief
message to the committee. His first act on
my arrival was to arrange a summer stipend
to conduct research at Berkeley’s Institute of
Urban and Regional Development (IURD),
for which he served as the director. Any
impoverished international student lacking
financial support knows how critical the
initial support is, both pragmatically and
emotionally.
But of course, it was Peter’s intellectual
versatility I recall most from my days in
Berkeley. He had the broadest and the most
precise knowledge I have ever encountered,
from technological innovation to the history
of cities. His PhD seminar was a sight to
see. One day during the seminar, one of us
raised a question rather tangential to the
seminar’s theme, but Peter, without notes
or preparation, immediately plunged into a
lengthy narration of the entire history of the
literature from beginning of time up to the
contemporary, including titles of all relevant
books and articles, first and last names of
authors and the years they were published.
80
We were stunned into silence, and this did
not happen often among otherwise highly
rebellious, often arrogant doctoral students
at Berkeley. He did his narration while doing
his famous gestures, which comprised of
placing both his palms on parts of his cheeks
and moving them around occasionally.
Peter always spoke in complete sentences
with exacting precision, without neglecting
colourful adjectives appropriately inserted.
His thoughts were always logically and
coherently presented from beginning to end.
There was never any messy back-and-forth of
rephrasing, stopping, and recapitulating. The
popular legend among graduate students at
the time was that Peter needed no revising
when he wrote, so much so that he once
authored a book by speaking into a recorder
over a four-day weekend, which only needed
a word-for-word transcription and was
immediately ready for publication.
To me, Peter was not just supportive,
but was demanding as a mentor. I once
received a note from him, which indicated
his dissatisfaction with my draft ‘inside field’
statement (equivalent of major field orals). If
I recall correctly, the note read something to
the effect of: ‘Yuko, this is fine. But I must
say that I am a little disappointed that you
changed your orientation. Recall your initial
intention was to tread new waters by focusing
on advanced producer services, not manufacturing. Your list is all on manufacturing. I
think a focus on services would be far more
interesting’. This was during the era when the
Association of American Geographers (AAG)
specialty group was still called Industrial
Geography, not Economic Geography, and
empirical research in economic geography
and regional development was very squarely
on manufacturing.
Although I had initially proposed studying
advanced producer services, or so-called FIRE
(finance, insurance, and real estate) sector
and its implications to regional development, on arrival at Berkeley in 1991, literature
I could cite barely existed, and I did not
know how to tread new waters creatively.
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SIR PETER HALL: FROM KONDRATIEFF WAVES TO THE SOUL OF THE DELTA
Peter called on me not to take an easy path.
His insistence on students to stay on course
and focus on new themes and approaches,
is among the most important experiences I
recall, and I take this to heart when advising
my own students today.
I was among the last of the cohorts to have
Peter on my exam committee, and I went
as far as writing a dissertation improvement grant proposal to the National Science
Foundation (NSF) on San Francisco’s function
as a financial centre, with Peter as the principal investigator. The details of my proposal
at the time are a little hazy in my memory,
but I believe it was to analyze extra-regional/
intra-sectoral linkages and intra-regional/
inter-sectoral linkages of San Francisco’s
financial service industry. Solely out of my
own failings, the grant was not funded.
He consoled me, saying that it was a good
proposal, and the panel found the subject
matter intriguing. I do not believe that this
type of work still exists today.
Interestingly enough, around the same
time, I received a call from Dick Walker in
Geography who had a research assistantship
to do work on the regional economic implications of the financial sector in San
Francisco, supported by the Institute for
Research on Labor and Employment at
University of California, Berkeley. Perhaps
I was boldly naïve to suggest to Peter and
Dick that they discuss the subject and
explore avenues of collaboration, given their
distinctive ideological leanings. Yet I recall the
conversation, when it finally took place, was
open-minded, highly engaging, and stimulating. The collaboration did not materialize,
however, partly due to Peter’s departure from
Berkeley shortly thereafter. A few years after
his departure, Manuel Castells made an offhand comment during office hours that Peter
missed Berkeley for the quality of students,
which came as a complete surprise to me.
I still remember cautiously inquiring of
Manuel, ‘do you mean that… we (students)
matter…??’ Manuel’s response was a resounding, emphatic yes. I can attest to that
BUILT ENVIRONMENT VOL 41 NO 1
only now, but I did not know the value of
students to the institution at the time.
I was not fully aware of the extent of
Peter’s influence on me when I was a student
at Berkeley. But over the years, I recognize
how Peter’s work has been an inspiration to
me from an amazing array of angles. When
I knew Peter, he was largely interested in
technological evolution and implications on
regional development, as represented in The
Carrier Wave, The Rise of the Gunbelt, and High
Tech America. During my days at Berkeley,
Peter was collaborating with Manuel on
Technopoles of the World. He was also known to
have interests on transportation, particularly
high-speed rail and its potential in California
which, two decades later, is finally moving
into the realm of reality. I knew that he was
ahead of his time by decades.
But even with his remarkable versatility,
I would never have imagined that I would
be referring to Peter’s work when I began
writing about, of all things, the flamenco
industry in Southern Spain. I have been
intrigued by flamenco ever since I saw it
live in Madrid in 1989. When I told Manuel
Castells about my enthusiasm for flamenco in
the early 2000s, his response was simply, ‘that
is so very Japanese of you’. This statement
flew in the face of how I perceived myself
and who I had become; decades-old selfimage of being distinctive and unique,
escaping all cultural stereotypes. Although
I was completely unaware of the Japanese
obsession with this form of art at the time,
data supported Manuel’s claim. Japan is the
largest market of flamenco outside Spain,
with hundreds of classes offered in major
cities. Why? And how did this form of art,
with its performers mostly of marginalized
origins, survive and thrive to the contemporary times without becoming forgotten and
reduced to obscurity? So I decided to write
about this and began looking for references
to build my arguments.
Somewhat buried in Peter’s intimidatingly
thick book, Cities in Civilization, is a delightful
narrative of the geographic evolutions of
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PROFESSOR SIR PETER HALL: ROLE MODEL
Figure 2. Flamenco artists at a
tablao in Madrid in 2014.
American music, including blues, country,
and Rock’n’Roll. I was stunned once again,
that his hallmark inexhaustible knowledge of
everything even stretched into the American
Deep South. This work is human geography
par excellence, fusing together history, geography, economy, ethnicity and culture. Moreover, his description of the blues strongly
paralleled that of flamenco, both music of
the underclass and the outcasts. Their humble
origins represent the births of a ‘popular art
created bottom-up’ and ‘a music created
by a desperately poor and exploited rural
underclass’ (Hall, 1998, p. 602). Flamenco,
which typically includes singers, dancers,
guitarists and most recently percussionists,
82
originated from the most economically and
socially marginalized gypsy communities in
Andalusian cities of Cadiz, Seville, Granada
and Jerez de la Frontera.
In Peter’s book, an in-depth interrogation
of social theory – Marxian, the Frankfurt
School, Innis and McLuhan, is followed by
his speculation on the post-McLuhan universe. He then offers a detailed empirical
substantiation to buttress his points, through
an extensive elaboration of the rise of Hollywood and Memphis as focal points of the
twentieth-century mass culture revolution.
How did a place like Memphis, ‘so far
removed from the cultural mainstream, so far
from the original New York powerhouse of
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SIR PETER HALL: FROM KONDRATIEFF WAVES TO THE SOUL OF THE DELTA
the mass-media revolution’ (p. 603) become
the locus of creative explosions? In his words,
‘Memphis became the conspicuous exception
to all previous rules about the artistic
creativity of cities’ (p. 606). He discusses
the roots of blues in the American South, its
socio-cultural heritage and its musical styles
in Chapter 19, entitled ‘Soul of the Delta,
Memphis, 1948–1956’.
Of 548 known blues singers with identified
birthplaces between the turn of the century and
the end of the 1950s, more than one-quarter were
born in Mississippi, more than three-quarters in
the block of contiguous states that stretched east,
south, and west from Mississippi. The Delta and
adjacent Mississippi hill country produced an
extraordinary rural tradition which then migrated
north to Chicago via Memphis… (p. 570)
Peter describes the emergence of rock music,
from the migration of African Americans
and the transformation of cultural heritage
from the Delta blues to Chicago blues, and
the exchange of influences between Memphis
and Chicago, ultimately fusing with country
music that came from the hill country. His
description of how cross-fertilization of cultures manifested into music gave me a point
of departure for my work on flamenco. Like
the American blues, flamenco is an outcome
of complex migration patterns and multicultural heritage, involving Indian, MiddleEastern and African musical traits that blend
Christian and Islamic cultures, which ultimately culminated in a distinctively Andalusian form of music and rhythms. Andalusia
continues to be the largest region of origins
for flamenco artists, comprising 43 per cent
of the 1,105 artists in the recent directory.
Particularly notable is the role of the Spanish
gypsies (gitanos) in Andalusia, among the
most impoverished and socially marginalized
segment of the population. Many of the traditional occupations of gypsies such as metal
working, horse trading and fortune telling
disappeared with the decline of the informal
sector in the latter half of the twentieth
century, and careers as flamenco artist-entrepreneurs became an important alternative to
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the otherwise progressive proletarianization
of their community (Aoyama, 2009, p. 86–88).
Although gitanos comprise only 3–4 per cent
of the region’s total population, about a
third of the artists in the directory identify
themselves as having gypsy roots, among
them notable artists such as Camarón de la
Isla, the legendary singer from Cádiz (1950–
1992) whose mythology and public adulation
make him the Elvis Presley of flamenco.
Peter did not stop at the analysis of
population migration, however. In analyzing
the geographical roots of artistic creativity
and its transformation over time, Peter
expanded the scope of his intellectual reach
to anthropology and beyond, and even
studied relevant ethnomusicology, which is
clearly demonstrated in his discussion of the
musical traits of the American blues and all
the intricate details.
The music was the blues, which some observers
have called the true, the fundamental American
music. But in origin the blues are African music,
and they are one of the very few African cultural
elements that survived in America. Anthropologists have found all manner of African elements
in the blues; the participation of all those present;
the competition in singing or playing; the strong
dance rhythms; the over-emphatic repeated beat to
produce a state of trance; the lyric improvisation
and variation; the use of everyday objects like pots
and pans and spoons as instruments; the borrowings of West African string instruments and pipes –
above all, the ‘bottleneck’ or ‘knife’ style of guitar
playing, derived via a children’s instrument called
a ‘diddley bow’ from an African monochord instrument; the use of the call-and-response principle,
found in so many black American choral forms
and in so many blues singers; the way instruments
‘talk’, repeating the vocal phrase, as in boogiewoogie; the use of the voice as an instrument
ranging from falsetto (indicating virility in African
music, but a pain-filled extremity of sexual feeling
in the blues) to one-voice chording or screaming,
glissando, wide vibrato, and wavering of pitch;
and finally the great complexity of the rhythms,
which creates a rhythmic counterpoint between
voices, between instruments, or between voice and
instrument. (p. 561)
A number similarities exist between the
blues and flamenco, which included – to
use Peter’s phrases – the participation of all
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PROFESSOR SIR PETER HALL: ROLE MODEL
those present, the competition in singing or
playing, the strong dance rhythms, the overemphatic repeated beat to produce a state of
trance, the lyric improvisation and variation,
the use of everyday objects like pots and pans
and spoons as instruments, the use of the calland-response principle, wavering of pitch,
the great complexity of rhythms, rhythmic
counterpoint between voices, between instruments, or between voice and instrument.
Peter displays an amazing array of knowledge he had amassed on the dance, the
guitar, and the significance of improvisation
associated with the blues. His versatility and
breadth of curiosity, and his knowledge of
the ethnomusicology are all highly evident
in this book:
Fundamental to much African music is the use
of triplets against a 4/4 beat to create a dupletriple tension; it is found in the Blind Lemon
Jefferson recordings of the 1920s, through the
up-tempo ‘New Orleans’ rhythm-and-blues style
of musicians such as Fats Domino, right down to
the generation of Bobby Bland and beyond. And,
most distinctive of all, there is the descending
tone of many Afro-American tunes, what has been
called the ‘get-down quality’ – though, as John
Roberts emphasizes, similar features are found in
English folk songs and in the music of many areas
of the world. The blues notes are the treatment of
the third, seventh and occasionally sixth degrees,
with scoops, swoops, and slurs. Many of these
features are African, but the harmonic character
is European. The blues form groups around the
pentatonic scale, a clear African influence: Hugh
Tracey in 1958 found that thirty-three out of eighty
African tribes used such a scale for their entire
musical expression, whilst most others used it for
vocal music. Oliver suggests that the flattening of
the third and seventh in the major scale may result
from a black problem in trying to relate the African
pentatonic scale to the European diatonic, though
he admits this may be an oversimplification. And
the melodic outline has a characteristic series of
steep rises and slow falls, a melodic form that one
observer has again traced to Africa. Delta blues
singers could be heard, as late as 1955, who had no
European harmony – for instance John Lee Hooker
and Big Bill Broonzy. (p. 561)
As a side note, this work strongly resonates
with a recent documentary, Muscle Shoals
(2013), about a town with that name located
84
in the corner of north-western Alabama and
lying in the triangle connecting Memphis,
Nashville and Elvis Presley’s birth place
Tupelo. ‘Muscle Shoals’ hosted the two most
important music studios for blues, rock, and
jazz in the twentieth century, which were
frequented not only by American artists
such as Etta James and Aretha Franklin,
but also Rolling Stones. The film showcases
how strong collaborations between black
and white musicians in the area produced
the groove, the pocket, and the unique getdown quality, and generated among the
most innovative genres of music today. The
blending of cultural influences in musical
creativity described by Peter is precisely
how place-specificity emerges out of the
blending of vast cultures. I do not think he
ever wrote on the origins of British rock, but
I have no doubt that he would have offered
a highly informative, geographically relevant,
interesting take on its emergence.
In my work on flamenco, I argued that
the origin and evolution of flamenco show
close interactions between the producers and
the consumers in shaping, reshaping, and
appropriating cultural contents that may have
regional origins to suit prevailing market
demand, in this case supported largely by
temporary migration, and of the consumer
side, i.e., tourism. Since its beginnings, flamenco developed an international audience,
starting with the early nineteenth century
tourism by artists and musicians from France
and Britain. Demand for cultural commodities that involve an aesthetic of exoticism
combines two types of distances: one of
nostalgia for the distant past, and another
of romanticism of the culture that has a perceived distance from one’s own. The demand
for flamenco has been sustained by the preference toward the exotic, prevalent in contemporary consumer capitalism. Franco actively
promoted flamenco along with bullfighting
as part of the touristic package with a slogan,
‘Spain is different’, relegating its status
beyond Andalusia to the dismay of Spaniards
in other regions.
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Today, flamenco ranges from grass-root
and informal activities organized around
local associations, state-supported spectacles
and events all over Spain, to annual flamenco
festivals around the world such as in London,
Amsterdam, Dusseldorf, Tokyo, Hong Kong,
Shanghai, Melbourne, New York, and Miami
(Aoyama, 2009). The contemporary generation of flamenco artists leverages their historical heritage with a variety of other influences, and is creating its own brand of music
by fusing with rock, pop and jazz, and integrating flamenco with Spanish and modern
dance to develop a uniquely distinctive form
of art.
The Japanese obsession to flamenco is
complex, which I explain in my article as a
geographical paradox that gives rise to an
appreciation of the blending of cultures,
which contemporary Japanese consumers,
and particularly women, are highly attuned
to (Aoyama, 2007). The flamenco schools
in Madrid, Seville and Jerez de la Frontera
cater primarily for foreign women interested
in mastering this art form, while the locals
join music and dance conservatories at early
ages to pursue their careers as performers.
The significance of tourism in the survival of
art has been argued for a variety of cultural
activities, from Balinese music and dance
in Indonesia to mardi gras in New Orleans,
USA. The art form has evolved into an
industry complex, supported by the state and
generating repeat tourism traffic of cultural
consumption. Tourism has been essential for
the survival of flamenco, even if flamenco has
not been essential for the survival of tourism
in Spain.
In Peter’s book, Chapter 20 is entitled ‘The
Secret of the Marriage’ and begins with a
statement:
The union of art and technology and commerce
is one of the most complex and therefore most
difficult in the history of human ingenuity. It is a
story that has unfolded throughout the twentieth
century and is unfolding, in new and exciting
ways, as the century closes.
I wish I had a chance to ask him in person for
BUILT ENVIRONMENT VOL 41 NO 1
his thoughts on the current union of art and
technology and commerce. Music is perhaps
the most prominent information ‘content’ that
emerges out of the geographic mobility of
people. The diffusion and popularity of music
has been reinforced by technologies, starting
with the radio waves to recording media and
now to the Internet (Aoyama, 2007). What did
he think of music and video streaming, and
how would he have theorized them? I can
only imagine his eyes sparkling with pleasure
and delighting with an engagement, as I wait
for a very detailed account of the geo-history
of the media with absolute precision.
I was not in touch with Peter much during
the past decade, and that is one source of
regret. I largely refrained from getting in
touch with him ever since he was knighted
and an appointment had to be made through
his agent. I only admired him from afar. But
in 2010, I received an email, which was circulated among a few Berkeley faculty and
alumni announcing Ann Markusen’s retirement gatherings. When I saw Peter’s email
address among the list of recipients, I
could not resist but to drop him a note. He
immediately wrote back, ‘How nice to hear
from you! I see your name from time to
time…’. He then offered a bit of an update: ‘
Here I’ve now been at UCL for 18 years
(unbelievably) and am now on a 30% contract,
quite enough as I hit 78 next week and am trying
to organise a quieter life … but I have a big
European Union transport contract which certainly
isn’t doing much to deliver it.
As always, Peter was as busy and in high
demand as ever. As I read this email, I
could hear exactly the tone of his voice and
the delight in it, as if he were speaking to
me. And almost as expected, he signs off
with a following remark. ‘Best wishes, and
remember this email is being typed half
way between Heathrow Airport and Central
London. Just take the stopping train and, 18
minutes later, drop off at Ealing Broadway’.
I am only glad that in my last correspondence with him, I had a chance to
express my sincere gratitude to Peter. I wrote:
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PROFESSOR SIR PETER HALL: ROLE MODEL
I just wanted to tell you that I really appreciated
your advising me at Berkeley during my doctorate,
albeit short. You were the reason for me to get
there, and you continue to be my eternal role
model as a scholar, teacher and mentor. I think of
you often when talking to my doctoral students.
I tell them how one of the great benefits of
becoming an academic is the privilege of knowing
scholars who truly inspire you, and you are the
first that comes to my mind.
The picture of Peter in my memory comes
from one Berkeley graduation. Dressed
handsomely in the University of Cambridge
regalia complete with a little red and round
stuffed hat, walking back from the Greek
Theater where the commencement ceremony
took place. Behind him were Californian
eucalyptus and olive trees grown in the back
of Wurster Hall sloping up toward Berkeley
Hills. That image of Peter is still fresh in my
memory. Thank you, Peter, for educating and
encouraging us all. You are in my heart as a
person with an amazing mind and a beautiful
soul.
Aoyama, Y. (2009) Artists, tourists, and the state:
cultural tourism and the flamenco industry in
Andalusia, Spain. International Journal of Urban
and Regional Research, 33, pp. 80–104.
Hall, P. (1975) Urban and Regional Planning.
London: Penguin.
Hall, P. (1980) Great Planning Disasters. London:
Weidenfeld.
Hall, P. (1998) Cities in Civilization: Culture, Technology, and Urban Order. London: Weidenfeld.
Hall, P., Markusen, A. and Glasmeier, A.K. (1986)
High Tech America: The What, How, Where and
Why of the Sunrise Industries. Boston: Allen &
Unwin.
Hall, P. and Preston, P. (1988) The Carrier Wave:
New Information Technology and the Geography of
Innovation 1846–2003. London: Unwin Hyman.
Hall, P. and Castells, M. (1994) Technopoles of the
World: The Making of 21st-Century Industrial
Complexes. London: Routledge.
Markusen, A., Hall, P., Campbell, S. and Deitrick,
S. (1991) The Rise of the Gunbelt: The Military
Remapping of Industrial America. New York:
Oxford University Press.
REFERENCES
Aoyama, Y. (2007) The role of consumption and
globalization in a cultural industry: the case of
flamenco. Geoforum, 38, pp. 103–113.
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