There were those who recognized Viacom’s concerns yet thought Redstone was wrong. Esther Dyson, an early and prominent investor in digital media, said, “As a business, I think they are behaving foolishly-like the music companies. They are fighting their customers. What they should do is use YouTube as a platform and share in all the revenues.” Those who agree that YouTube is a platform, not a content competitor-including some who work for Redstone but dare not be quoted-think the lawsuit is a declaration of war when what is needed is an agreement that encourages more trial and error.
Many media bears sympathized with Viacom even if they didn’t join the lawsuit. “If we’re putting up programming for free, why should cable or DirecTV pay us for content?” asked Mel Karmazin. And if consumers can get the content online or on iTunes, he said, unless the digital company pays a substantial licensing fee “you’re trading analog dollars for digital dimes.” Moreover, once a copy is made, it is easily duplicated and shared.
Anxiety about piracy was not peculiar to television. On the eve of Viacom’s lawsuit, all the major Hollywood film studios jointly protested that Google was selling keywords such as bootleg movie download or pirated for two Web sites it knew to be illegally downloading their movies. Google assured the studios it would prevent a recurrence. But although those keywords can be blocked, there will be others. Even the company that a decade earlier aroused the same fears Google now did, Microsoft, publicly accused Google of a “cavalier” approach to copyright, charging that Google was making “money solely on the backs of other people’s content.”
Undeterred, Google vowed to take the case all the way to the Supreme Court. Because Google was already warring in the courts with publishers and the Authors Guild, this battle with Viacom opened a second front in the war with old media. And soon there would be other skirmishes, including those with new media companies like Facebook, the fastest growing social network. With more than forty million active users in the summer of 2007, Facebook “doubles in size every six months,” said founder Mark Zuckerberg. Then twenty-two, Zuckerberg is a Harvard dropout who in the early days of his company’s life slept on a mattress on the floor of a Palo Alto apartment he rented near his office, allowing him to move effortlessly between work and sleep. His baby face is framed with curly hair, and because he is thin, with a relatively long torso, one is surprised that he stands only five feet eight inches tall.
He arrived for dinner at an outdoor Thai restaurant in Palo Alto sock-less, wearing Adidas sandals and a green T-shirt, and ordered lemonade that he sipped through a straw. He was on guard to avoid saying anything boastful about Facebook, or intemperate about rivals. He said he did not feel competent to discuss almost anything but Facebook. He lacked Brin’s unguarded zest or Page’s quiet confidence. But his long pauses when asked about Google, and the way he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, suggest the tension between the two companies. He was somewhat less circumspect about MySpace, his main competitor among social networking sites: “What they’re doing is very much different from us. On a fundamental level, what they’re doing is not mapping out real connections. They’re helping people meet new people. Rather than using the social graph and the connections people have in order to facilitate decentralized communication, they’re using it as a platform to pump and push media out to people. They call themselves a next-generation media company. We don’t even think we’re a media company. We’re a technology company.”
Facebook is not a content company, he said, just as a telephone company is not. In fact, in some ways Facebook is like a telephone conversation, with all your friends on the same call. But on this call, your friends can share photographs, text, political summons to action, video, and music, or can click to make purchases. “There is a big misconception around what social networks are,” Zuckerberg said. “People think there are communities, or media sites, where people are going to meet new people or make new connections or consume a lot of media. But what they really are is a completely different paradigm for people sharing information. The traditional media models are all centralized. What we’re enabling here is decentralized individual communication. When that happens with a certain level of efficiency, it starts to become easier for people to communicate and get a lot more of their information through this network than through a lot of the centralized approaches they used before.”
This is precisely why Google, starting in 2007, began to worry about Facebook. If Facebook’s community of users got more of their information through this network, their Internet search engine and navigator might become Facebook, not Google. As media companies agonized that Google and YouTube were capturing more eyeball time, Google began to have the same concerns about Facebook. What if Facebook became the equivalent of AOL’s former walled garden, the home page, the place its users went not to roam but to comfortably nest? Google depends on more and more people surfing the Web. Relations were further strained when Microsoft outbid Google in October of 2007, laying claim to 1.6 percent ownership of Facebook and establishing Microsoft as Facebook’s advertising sales agent.
There was another reason Google fretted about Facebook. The social networking site operated on a different business model than Google’s. Like Flickr (Yahoo’s photo-sharing site), Twitter, or Linux, they are part of what Lawrence Lessig, in his book Remix: Making Art and Commerce Thrive in the Hybrid Economy, refers to as hybrids-companies that take the shared efforts of many and build communities that help create commercial value. They are not strictly part of a “commercial economy,” as Google, Amazon, and Netflix are, according to Lessig, nor are they strictly part of the not-for-profit “sharing economy,” as Wikipedia and the open-source Linux operating system are. The hybrids, wrote Lessig, are those that combine making money with sharing-as Red Hat did by offering Linux for free but selling consultant services to corporations; as Craigslist does by offering 99 percent of its listings for free; as YouTube does by allowing users to freely share videos; and as community-building sites like Facebook do. Google was free, but it was not building a community.
While Google warily watched Facebook, a real skirmish broke out between Google and the bear that is the advertising industry. Ad executives had been uneasy for some time that Google would displace media-buying agencies. But there were additional concerns. How many more ad dollars would Google siphon from traditional media companies? Would Google disintermediate the sales forces of these companies? Might Google bypass advertising agencies and develop a direct relationship with advertisers? If Google’s automated auction system brought the cost efficiencies Larry Page touted, would it not inevitably lower old media’s advertising rates as well as the fees ad agencies charged clients? Perhaps the overriding concern was the one identified by Herbert Allen III, who said of Google: “They want to be the digital advertising network for all forms of advertising. They want to be the advertising operating system, sitting in the middle of all advertising.” Google was indeed “fucking with the magic.”
Concern turned to fright in April 2007 when Google paid $3.1 billion to purchase DoubleClick, outbidding Microsoft and Yahoo. “There’s no way Google would have acquired DoubleClick if not for their fear of Microsoft,” said a DoubleClick executive close to the negotiations. The executive said that because Microsoft and Google were bidding against each other, DoubleClick was able to inflate its sales price by about $1 billion.
In the world of online advertising and marketing, DoubleClick was as dominant in its arena-placing display advertising-as Google was in placing text ads. DoubleClick provides the digital platform that allows sites like MySpace to sell online ads and advertisers and ad agencies to buy them, with DoubleClick culling from its database the information that targets the ads. The acquisition gave Google “an opportunity to be the infrastructure backbone for all ad-serving on the Internet,” said a worried Wenda Harris Millard, then Yahoo’s chief sales officer. In addition to potentially controlling the plumbing, DoubleClick offered rich new data-mining possibilities. By combining DoubleClick’s data with its own, Google would house an unrivaled trove of data. As Randall Rothenberg, the CEO of the Interactive Advertising Bureau, said the day the deal was announced, “You can dive deep into that data and say, who were those people, where do they live, what were they doing when they looked at those ads?”