Chris Farrell: Remember the dot-com boom of the 1990s? It seemed as if every entrepreneur with a good idea and a PC could challenge established companies for customers. Brick-and-mortar companies jumped on the e-commerce bandwagon. The demand for digital workers soared. Long-time computer professionals hopped from job to job, pulling down more money with every employer. Newly minted college graduates juggled multiple job offers. But when the Y2K problem emerged in the latter part of the '90s business and government quickly realized there still weren't enough IT workers on hand to find and repair the computer glitch. The quick fix? Hire computer professionals overseas. And that temporary solution permanently changed the global economy.

Paul Saffo: Y2K was huge in getting the ball rolling on offshoring.

Farrell: Paul Saffo is director of the Institute for the Future, a high-tech think tank in Silicon Valley.

Saffo: But once they went overseas, they discovered it's not just a matter of cost. These programmers overseas are often better than the best you can get in the United States.

Farrell: Ireland, the Philippines, and Israel were among the more popular destinations for offshoring Y2K programming fixes. But India became the offshore capital. It had plenty of high-tech companies staffed with well-educated English speaking digital workers. Thanks to India's steep import barriers in the 1980s, no one could afford new computer systems. So Indian tech workers were the world's leading experts in the older software languages that needed upgrading. Suhas Patil is chairman emeritus of semiconductor maker Cirrus Logic.

Suhas Patil: And they were listening to their customers and what their needs were, and as the recognition came that systems had to be upgraded to not have the problem based on the Y2K issues, that's how they got their break.

Farrell: And made the most of the opportunity. AnnaLee Saxenian is Dean of the School of Information Management and Systems at the University of California, Berkeley.

AnnaLee Saxenian: I think the importance of Y2K was overwhelmingly about establishing Indian companies' reputation among US customers and helping begin a set of customer supplier relationships that have simply taken off in the last four years.

Farrell: Of course, Y2K contracts ended in 2000. Yet many Indian companies took advantage of their now sterling programming reputations to negotiate for more sophisticated work. Research. Software development. Accounting services. Long-distance medical advice. Rafiq Dossani is a senior research scholar at Stanford University.

Rafiq Dossani: India is now growing at 70-80 per cent a year in offshored services ... services which are maintaining an accounting system, maintaining an HR system, doing claims processing, that's growing easily at 70 per cent, maybe even higher.

Farrell: Offshore also came onshore during Y2K. The town of Mountain View lies at the heart of California's Silicon Valley. Housed in one of the many nondescript low-rise office buildings that crowd the region's business avenues is the Indus Entrepreneur, or TIE. It is a networking base for the Indian high-tech Diaspora.

Shankar Muniyappa: Y2K was a big opening as early as 98.

Farrell: Shankar Muniyappa is director of information systems for TIE. He came to America for Y2K-and stayed.

Muniyappa: Myself and many of us believe still believe this is the place where you need to be if you want to be middle of innovation.

Farrell: Some 30,000 Indian IT professionals now live and work in the Valley. Rafiq Dossani of Stanford University:

Dossani: At least 25 per cent of the start ups have Indian employees at fairly senior levels working for them. And ... there's a whole infrastructure therefore being built around them because it's a substantial number now, so you see shopping malls you see business services and so on catering to this particular immigrant community.

Farrell: That community is adding vitality to the American economy. Still, many American high-tech workers are threatened by the offshoring of white collar jobs. The numbers are murky, but according to Mark Zandi of Economy.com 370,000 non-manufacturing jobs moved overseas over the past fours years-with most of the information technology jobs going to India. Salaries are down too. Still, the big factor behind the loss of 1.5 million jobs lost since Y2K is improved business efficiency or productivity - not offshoring. And Y2K also played an important role in boosting business efficiency.

Economists initially looked at Y2K as a productivity killer.

Imagine a town threatened by a rising river. Every able-bodied person in town is put to work stacking sandbags. It's necessary work to save the town - but it's unproductive work. Nothing gets built. No food gets grown.

With the Y2K bug, programmers, chief information officers, project managers, and other digital workers were getting paid to do unproductive work - stacking sandbags of silicon. No innovative investments. No new productivity enhancing software.

But economists were wrong. Y2K wasn't a flood. Instead, think of it as clearing a path choked with underbrush. Once the trail is open, it is much easier to zip from point A to point B. Y2K gave companies an excuse to clean up their software and hardware underbrush - a critical factor in today's improved business productivity. Paul Saffo:

Saffo: A lot of companies said well, gosh, if we're going to have to spend all this money to fix our software let's also see what else we can do at the same time, so it was an invitation to replace a whole bunch of stuff. ... So it forced people to ask hard questions about how they were using things and in the best instances people really did become more efficient.

Farrell: The result? Companies used the new systems they installed to cut costs and work smarter - and hire fewer workers.

[Voice of Leonard Nimoy: "Do you have hard copies of all your important documents ... such as bank statements."]

That's Leonard Nimoy, Mr. Spock from Star Trek. He's narrating the Y2K Family Survival Guide video - one of thousands of products peddled by prophets of doom. Y2K did bring home how reliant we all are on computers. Many of us still don't back up critical data at home. The same isn't true for business and government. Many learned from Y2K just how vulnerable information systems are to a malicious attack or unforeseen disaster. Case in point: Y2K actually helped some businesses survive 9/11.

[News broadcast of President George W. Bush: "I've directed the full resources of intelligence and law enforcement communities to find those responsible and bring them to justice."]

The attack on the World Trade Center stopped trading on the New York Stock Exchange. Against the odds, that citadel of capitalism opened six days later.

John Koskinen: The reason the markets, securities markets, were able to open the Monday after the Tuesday of 9-11 was they still had the test scripts that had been developed in 1998 and 99.

Farrell: John Koskinen credits preparations for Y2K. He was President Clinton's Y2K czar.

Koskinen: ... they were able to in effect take all of those Y2K scripts and make sure that all the transactions with all of the major players would close. Without that they never would have been able to do it in the time frame with the confidence they had.

Farrell: A record 2.4 billion shares traded on the New York Stock Exchange the day it reopened.

Y2K was a unique economic event. Earlier jolts to the economy, like the 1973 oil price hike and the 2001 attack of 9/11, were shocks. But the Year 2000 arrived right on schedule. The surprise was how little immediate impact the much-feared transition had on the economy. Yet we're still living and working with the economic impact of Y2K five years later.

For Marketplace and American RadioWorks, I'm Chris Farrell.

Not long ago, an experimental malaria vaccine made newspaper headlines. Over six months, it more than halved serious episodes of malaria in 2,000 children in rural Mozambique. The only trouble is that it will take at least 10 years to come to market.

Fortunately, there are new, effective drugs already available that could start to loosen malaria's stranglehold on many impoverished countries. With a modest global investment, these drugs could be mobilised today.

Malaria is one of the world's greatest threats to life and human performance. Each year, it kills more than 1m people, mainly children in sub-Saharan Africa, and triggers some 500m debilitating attacks in people of all ages throughout the tropics. The toll in lost productivity is a big contributor to Africa's poor economic performance.

All concerned with malaria know that new drugs are needed. After the second world war, a drug called chloroquine became standard. Until about 20 years ago, it worked well in Africa. In addition, it was cheap, averaging 10 cents per treatment. However, chloroquine-resistant strains, which first emerged in south-east Asia, are now rife throughout Africa. The death toll from malaria is rising once again.

What makes this situation more distressing is the existence of an effective alternative. When the first signs of drug-resistant malaria appeared in Asia during the Vietnam war, Chinese scientists developed a family of drugs from sweet wormwood, a common shrub that had been used for centuries in traditional medicine. These "artemisinin compounds" are now standard components of malaria treatment in Asia, where they have proved to be the best ever anti-malarial drugs. To circumvent future drug resistance, however, the time has come to partner artemisinins with other anti-malarial drugs, creating artemisinin combination therapies (ACTs) - the same strategy that underlies the treatment of HIV and tuberculosis. In 2002, the World Health Organisation went on record urging governments to adopt such therapies rapidly in order to provide more effective malaria treatment and slow the spread of drug resistance.

Now the only remaining obstacles to these treatments in Africa are economic. At present, ACTs cost about $2 a treatment, not 10 cents. Subsidies are needed - probably in the region of $500m a year, a small amount on any global scale. The other challenge is how this money enters the drug supply chain.

To overcome the need for a new system of delivery, a recent report from the Institute of Medicine, the US-based health advisory organisation, recommended that ACTs be bought at competitive prices by an international organisation such as Unicef, then resold at a deep discount to governments and private wholesalers in countries where malaria is endemic. The main condition underlying access to subsidised ACTs would be that they flow freely through public and private channels - just as chloroquine does now. This approach would accomplish two objectives: it would allow the existing private market to support the switch to ACTs and it would keep the treatment's cost to consumers down to about the price of chloroquine.

Centralised purchasing has other advantages. It would assure a market for producers, and in particular would encourage the planting of sweet wormwood to overcome the existing reported shortage of artemisinin. It would also facilitate quality control. Moreover, the scale of any international subsidy of combination therapy would discourage the distribution of any solo drug whose use might encourage new resistance down the line.

Above all, in the case of anti-malarial drugs, centralised purchasing would provide the impetus for a swift change in the way the world treats malaria. Without a co-ordinated programme, the change is far more likely to be gradual and incomplete, the scenario most likely to jeopardise the effectiveness of artemisinins over the next few years.

There can be no excuse for delay. Resistance is overwhelming the usefulness of existing drugs, and deaths due to drug-resistant malaria are accelerating daily, especially among the poor of Africa. The IOM has proposed a feasible plan to introduce ACTs quickly. All that remains is for the international donor and finance communities to embrace the logic, allocate funds and take action once and for all against malaria.

The Presidential election campaign is in the home stretch. Neither the President nor Senator Kerry has secured a decisive advantage.

Iraq is now the central issue of debate, as one would expect, since the war is going badly, and the economy is reasonably robust. The debate is finally beginning to focus on substantive differences between the candidates after a summer in which they mainly exchanged personal attacks on their respective Vietnam records. Their strategies are now clear: Bush will challenge Kerry's steadiness and consistency; Kerry will challenge the necessity of the campaign in Iraq and the competence of the administration's efforts there. But while their diagnoses of the situation differ, their proposals for dealing with what is clearly a mess are not so clearly differentiated. Both propose to seek additional help from members of the international community; both emphasize the need to train and arm Iraqi security forces; and both are hopeful that elections will enhance the legitimacy of Iraqi leaders, fortify their efforts to dry up the insurgency, and allow American forces to be reduced and eventually withdrawn.

Historically, wars have been unkind to presidents on whose watch they occurred. The Korean War reduced Harry Truman's popularity so dramatically by 1952 that he gave up his quest for a second full term. The Vietnam War drove Lyndon Johnson from office, despite impressive domestic achievements. Victory in the Gulf War of 1991 sent George H.W. Bush's approval ratings soaring, but within a year he was defeated by an obscure Arkansas governor.

Yet President Bush still clings to a narrow lead in the polls. Why?

Senator Kerry has argued that the Iraqi campaign is a "war of choice." Perhaps so. But Osama bin Laden issued a fatwa declaring war on the United States nearly a decade ago. Whatever the outcome in Iraq, war with Islamic extremists will continue. And American voters remain nearly evenly divided as to whether John Kerry has the steadfast character and consistent judgment they want in a wartime leader.

Uneasiness about the financial and human costs of the war is growing. Casualty figures in Iraq are high compared to the numbers killed or wounded in post-cold war American interventions in Somalia, Haiti, Bosnia, and Kosovo. Yet, those earlier conflicts involved humanitarian interventions in which Americans perceived little strategic stake. However, military personnel killed in Iraq - now more than 1000 - still number less than a third of the civilians who perished in New York and Washington on 9/11. And ours is a volunteer military that is highly motivated.

When confronted by an attack, Americans have consistently taken the fight to the enemy, engaging them in combat as far from our shores as possible. The president has portrayed the campaign in Iraq as an integral feature of the war on terrorism. To at least a number of voters, the absence of any terrorist attacks in the United States since 9/11 provides evidence that his approach, while not without significant costs, is working.

Victory at the polls may be a dubious prize. Whoever is sworn in on January 20, 2005 will face daunting choices. American options in Iraq range from the "potentially disastrous" to the "extremely distasteful." We cannot simply walk away. And a host of other dilemmas - e.g. nuclear crises in Iran and North Korea, a Middle East peace process that has gotten off track, strains in the trans-Atlantic relations, a multilateral trade round that has lost momentum - demand urgent attention. Beyond this, the next president will be hampered by a gigantic fiscal deficit and a military that is stretched thin. In short, he will have few easy choices. It makes one wonder why politicians yearn for this job.

Donald K. Emmerson, director of Stanford University's Southeast Asia Program, said elements within the Indonesian military have "a reputation for corruption and brutality" and, in East Timor and Papua, have shown a "willingness to work with what might be called entrepreneurs of violence."

Though he said he could not confirm the presence in Aceh of the Laskar Merah Putih militia, he said, "It would be a worst-case scenario if someone in the military were trying to use militias to help carry out repression."