It is almost impossible these days to wade through any print or online business news medium without encountering the phrase "quiet period". Just before they are to release quarterly results, corporations listed on the US markets regularly claim immunity from probing questions due to the legal obligations of the Securities and Exchange Commission's (SEC) "quiet period".
Inevitably, the most interesting questions tend to crop up just before results are to be released, as that event draws particular attention to how a company is performing. The questions have more relevance then, as readers are most interested in the answers at that point, rather than midway through a quarter. Yet they rarely get any answers.
That's because journalists routinely hear the "quiet" excuse in response to almost any question about an awkward business situation - layoffs or revenue decline or the loss of senior management. Alas, says Corporation X, we cannot answer any questions in any detailed way. Come back in a few weeks.
Is there an Irish company listed on the Nasdaq or other stock exchanges in the US that hasn't used this excuse?
For an excuse it turns out to be, and not a valid one either. In a nice piece entitled "Corporate silence is a choice", online technology news service News.com reveals this week that there is no such SEC regulation and that the quiet period is entirely a figment of corporate spin's imagination. Indeed, argues the piece, new, tighter disclosure rules under Regulation FD actually make the quiet period pointless anyway. Companies are only required not to commit fraud, says the SEC.
Then there's the quiet period I would subscribe to wholeheartedly - the enforced silencing of mobile phones in certain public situations. You know the scenario. There you are, a rapt audience member somewhere - at a play, the National Concert Hall (NCH), a jazz gig, anywhere where there's an element of hush about the performance.
And some eejit's mobile starts ringing, disrupting everyone's level of concentration and enjoyment. There's hardly an event I've been to in the past year or two where this hasn't happened, from christenings to events at the Gate, Vicar Street, the NCH, or at films. And on planes, for that matter. It happens whether or not people have been asked by the venue before the start of the event to please switch off their phones. And have you noticed that it's never a straightforward ring tone but some irksome tune downloaded off the internet?
Well, relief is perhaps in reach. A number of companies now market mobile phone jamming equipment, and apparently some theatres and movie chains in the US are among their customers. That's despite the practice being illegal in the States, where the Federal Communications Commission can slap an $11,000 (€12,500) a day fine on anyone jamming the devices.
However, there's a growing demand to change that law, given the ubiquity of mobiles and the fact that they are publicly disruptive in a way unmatched by any other personal device. Canada is already considering changing its laws to allow jamming in certain situations.
Over here, jamming is also illegal, although the fine is a more modest £1,000 (€1,270) a day. According to the Office of the Director of Telecommunications Regulation (ODTR), licences that are given to mobile operators give them the right to run their network over a specific band of spectrum. "If anyone else interferes with that strand of spectrum, it's a violation," said an ODTR spokeswoman.
The ODTR hasn't been asked - yet - to change this law. But perhaps a ground swell of exasperated venue operators and punters in the audience might put some pressure on public representatives to allow jamming within certain constraints. I'm sure the guilty parties whose phones have rung during performances would be the first to support such a move. Most genuinely just forget to turn them off and are clearly mortified when half a concert hall glares at their indiscretion.
Mr Thomas L. Friedman, the New York Times writer and author of the best-selling book on globalisation, The Lexus and the Olive Tree, was apparently in Ennis recently. Last week, he filed a brief piece back to the New York paper entitled "The Lexus and the Shamrock", which serves as an interesting addendum to his penetrating, pro-globalisation book.
"Once most famous for its potato famine, Ireland is now the European hub for Intel, Dell, Gateway, Xerox, Microsoft and Apple," he wrote. Much of the credit for the recent transformation goes to years of EU support, he believes. Of course, Mr Friedman was writing before this week's news of Gateway's closure.
The piece is a short but smart outsider's look at why the nation voted as it did on the Nice Treaty. No Vote posters "played on all the ambivalence here about the EU and globalisation: everyone loves the new roads and economic opportunities, which have enabled Ireland to overcome its legacy of poverty and emigration. Yet many people fear that Ireland's unique emerald landscape and delightfully eccentric culture and identity could get paved over on this road to paradise," says Mr Friedman.
He continues: "This tension now afflicts every modern society, but is particularly acute in places like Ireland, with a robust local culture and environment. As I said, don't kid yourself. People like what's being gained, but they are becoming more aware of the price. How countries manage this tension is going to be one of the great political dramas of the early 21st century."
The Lexus and the Olive Tree is an essential read for anyone trying to understand that the world's already a global economy; it is no longer simply a collection of national economies. At the same time, the world cannot ignore the voices protesting against the way in which globalisation proceeds. Fighting globalisation is as useless as tilting at windmills - it is inexorable and already is well underway. But managing the tension that globalisation produces - between benefits, potential benefits, cultural erosion and exploitation - will be the real challenge.
klillington@irish-times.ie
