Maybe. But how many billion are you willing to bet?
Once upon a time I worked with a company renowned for engineering excellence, and for building complex new things just because they could. The idea was that once industry knew it could, it would want to, bad enough to pay for the fastest and best. In the technology heady days of the Cold War, that wasn’t such a bad idea—every battle axe needed a cutting edge. Brute force was an acceptable design principle.
Now, in a Jobsian economy, things are different. We are blessed with markets that are willing to pay a premium for an edge in style, utility, and speed. We are also cursed with a spongy economy featuring vanishing funds for schools and real research (and the specially-developed tools required).
Consumers, bless their chip-enabled credit cards, are now the market drivers, not the search for the sharpest sword or the hardest shield. Reminds me of the hey-day of Detroit, with bewildering new slabs of sheet metal rolling out every September—whether there was anything worthwhile inside or not. (A frightening analogy for today’s trendy tech, but that is another rant.)
Contemporary style has its own altars: lighter, smaller, faster, easier. Yesterday’s technology, even if it is practically given away in thrift stores, is only good for lining virtual bird cages. To even have a chance for inclusion in tomorrow’s winning mass market products, new IC’s demand tinier processes with bludgeoning development costs.
New fabs cost billions, yet they must be built on the hope that they will match future needs and be fully used once they come on line. Fabless designers swirl cells together and hope the new fabs can produce their dream circuits. And they all hope the total package will compel consumers to keep buying.
So what can you do?
I think you have to design for the future. As much as you hope for a home run, you build your game on bunts and singles. You improve your processes and tweak your costs. Your turn your clever ideas into reusable IP and build software architectures that dictate good practices for maintenance and expansion. You get as much out of existing technology as you can. You design for manufacturability and yield. All those traditional things one does to hold costs down and stretch the benefits of your research. You assume your competitors are doing the same thing and try to improve continuously, no matter how much Dilbert scoffs.
You need to keep the business going while you assemble your war chest. Why? Because you will have to jump off the cliff soon enough. Not many fans buy tickets to watch defense. They come for the home runs, and the crashes.
To increase your chances of one over the other (why does Wiley Coyote come to mind?), you have to invest in research strategies as much as the research itself so that you will have a profitable place to land. I am not talking about hiring away talent or stealing secrets (which is done with cold war dedication in our very scary world). I am proposing more research consortiums that unite schools and companies to share the resources and risks of research. These partial partnerships can keep costs down and imaginations vivid. They also can keep both the companies and the schools current with industry bests. When the companies feel the research has reached their strengths they can bug off and privatize their special sauce, but the research keeps bubbling, brewing better engineers and scientists as well as birthing new gourmet companies with an innovative product and a reasonable chance of success. Combined research can create a better technology ecosystem, one that will continue to ride and respond to changing demands and possibilities.
(And keep technology editors gainfully employed explaining them. Classic Win-Win!)