The Death of the Download?

I woke up this morning with blepharitis in both eyes. Not sure how it happened, but there you are. A considerable inconvenience, having to reschedule everything, go to the eye hospital, queue up, get seen and diagnosed, pick up the prescription, get the medications from the pharmacy, then go home. Start applying the stuff.

You could say that I was a bear with a sore pair of eyes. I spent most of the day in bed with my eyes shut, willing the infection and inflammation to go away. [Which has begun to happen, thank God.]

Anyway, there I was with my eyes wide shut and nowhere to go and nothing I could usefully do; I had the opportunity to do something I rarely get time for, but which I enjoy greatly. I just let my mind wander.

It wasn’t long before I settled on a subject close to my heart, the whole issue of “content” and its associated awfulnesses, “audiences” and “digital rights”. That was probably triggered by a number of serendipitous events:

Firstly, I received my limited edition book and CD-R of Dark Night of the Soul (or DNOTS, as it gets called), the latest work by Danger Mouse and Sparklehorse.

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My copy came all shrinkwrapped, with a sticker on top. I couldn’t help but smile when I saw what the sticker said:

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I heard about it. I paid for it. Yes, I paid a premium price for the book and the blank CD, the same way I paid for Arctic Monkeys (who started experimenting with the marketing process) or Radiohead (who tried to change how prices are discovered) or Prince (who really understood the Because Effect; he knew that digital copies of his music were essentially infinite, and that he personally represented the most valuable scarcity). [I’ve always felt that the only way I’m going to learn about how value is forming and morphing is by taking part in the process]. It didn’t take a degree in rocket science to figure out that digital downloads of DNOTS were going to be abundant, and that the physical book was likely to be scarce.

As Doc Searls taught me many years ago, Because Effects are all about abundances and scarcities; you make money with scarcity. You make money because of abundance. I’ve written about this repeatedly over the years; if you’re interested, take a look at this or this or this. And while you’re at it, you should probably re-read Kevin Kelly’s Better Than Free, which I refer to here.

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Secondly, while in ruminative mood yesterday, I read the Guardian article referred to above. Headlined Collapse in illegal sharing and boom in streaming brings music to executives’ ears, the article is well worth reading. [Don’t worry about the gratuitous use of the word “illegal” before the word “download”, that’s just a generation thing. Like saying “social” before “media”.]. The key takeaway from the article is that teenagers are beginning to move away from downloads and towards streaming.

Thirdly, no story is complete nowadays without a Twitter angle. As I said earlier, I spent much of the day with my eyes closed thinking about things. It takes a lot of effort to do very little, so I was hungry by the late afternoon. Waiting for an early dinner, I checked Twitter out and came across Tim O’Reilly’s RT of an excellent post by Andrew Savikas:

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This is a very important post. Andrew Savikas, you have made my day.

People don’t buy LPs or tapes or CDs or even downloads in order to own anything. What they want to do is to listen to music. The business of the musician is to make that music, in ways that only musicians can.

Some people seem to have forgotten that.

As Andrew says:

Whether they realize it or not, media companies are in the service business, not the content business. Look at iTunes: if people paid for content, then it would follow that better content would cost more money. But every song costs the same. Why would people pay the same price for goods of (often vastly) different quality? Because they’re not paying for the goods they’re paying Apple for the service of providing a selection of convenient options easy to pay for and easy to download.

Many people, from Rishab Aiyer Ghosh through to Larry Lessig and Terry Fisher, keep drumming this point home in their different ways. This is not about content. It’s about culture. The food and cooking pot analogies are very important. Again, Andrew Savikas makes that point very well in his post.

Read Andrew Savikas’ post. Then go and read Kevin Kelly’s Better than Free. Then come back and read Andrew Savikas’ post again. All this is a simple variant of Peter Drucker’s “People make shoes, not money”.

We should concentrate on giving customers what they want to pay for, rather than trying to force them to pay for what they don’t want to pay for. Artificial scarcities lead to artificial abundances.

An aside: For some time now, I’ve been researching and writing a book on information as seen from the perspective of food, unsurprisingly called Feed Me. Watch this space.

There’s a child in me somewhere, a child I encourage the existence of. And that child began giggling when the thought occurred to me:

What if the troglodytes finally began to realise that customers were scarce and digital music was abundant? What if they finally began to realise that downloads were an excellent way to advertise scarce things like concerts and physical memorabilia, as Prince figured out?

And what if the customers have given up and moved on, from the download to the stream?

It was never about owning content. It was always about listening to music.

It was never about product. It was always about service.

The customer is the scarcity. We would do well to remember that. And to keep remembering that.

Thinking about the web with respect to good and bad news

I was born into a journalistic family in the fifties. My father was a journalist, as was his father. The family business was journalism. Financial journalism. Their models of vertical integration included owning a printing press and shares in ad agencies and restaurants. Which meant that as a child, I was pretty used to hearing (and later taking part in) discussions about various aspects of journalism. And some of it intrigued me then, and continues to intrigue me now.

Take the phrase “Bad news sells”. I’ve personally never really liked the phrase. It was brought home to me as a 13 year old when I first heard 7 O’Clock News/Silent Night by Simon and Garfunkel.  Was it really true that people prefer bad news? Why should that be? It didn’t make sense to me.

The Deadhead free-thinking folk-rock loving tie-dyed longhaired tree-hugging Sixties child in me never let that phrase settle in me. I never wanted to believe that people preferred to hear bad news.  And you know something? I still don’t want to believe it.

A few years ago, the Pew Research Center For The People and The Press published something called The News Interest Index, 1986-2007: Two Decades of American News Preferences. The entire study is worth reading. From my perspective, three key points emerged:

  • One, people appeared most interested in news about disasters, then about money, then about conflict. Political and “tabloid” news followed, while “foreign” news elicited the least interest.
  • Two, that interest in “money” was growing, it was the fastest-growing topic.
  • Three, the topic of lowest interest was that related to “foreign” news.

Sean Park, an old colleague and close friend, used to start to explain many aspects of the more esoteric workings of investment banks with the phrase “fear and greed”. And the Pew report seemed to indicate that he was bang on the money as usual.

My perspective on the role of fear in news was at least partially informed by reading two books in recent years: The Science of Fear and Scared to Death ; George Lakoff’s anchors and frames were probably also a key influence, building on the seeds planted in my brain by erstwhile colleague James Montier.

It didn’t matter what I did, I still didn’t want to believe that people preferred bad news to good; I still wanted to believe that given the choice, people would prefer to hear good news.

Very recently I came across an intriguing paper published in 1996 by Chip Heath who was then at the University of Chicago and is now at Stanford. It raised the question “Do People Prefer to Pass Along Good or Bad News? Valence and Relevance of News as Predictors of Transmission Propensity”. I quote from the summary:

…..People typically prefer to pass along central rather than extreme information (i.e. news that is less surprising rather than more surprising). However, when confronted with extreme information, the results support a preference for congruence, that is, people prefer to pass along news that is congruent with the emotional valence of the domain in question. This means that in emotionally negative domains, contrary to some theoretical predictions, people are willing to pass along bad news even when it is exaggeratedly bad. At the same time, however, people transmit exaggeratedly good news in emotionally positive domains…..

I find this whole concept of domain-specific emotional valence fascinating. I start asking myself questions like “What is the emotional valence of the web?” “What about slashdot?” “And what about Twitter?”. For many years now, I’ve taken part in many discussions about the nature of the web, and, influenced heavily by friend and mentor Doc Searls, I’ve gotten comfortable with the idea that the web is a place. A place made up of places, places that are zero distance apart.

The web has places of light and places of extreme darkness as well. I like spending time in places where people build each other up, say encouraging things to each other. I like spending time in places where people pass along tips and recommendations about people they like, books they like, music they like, food they like, restaurants they like. Positive things.

There’s an abundance of bad news out there already, in all shapes and colours and sizes. So why add to it?

I think that places like Twitter are good-news places, with a positive emotional valence. More accurately, the subset of Twitter that I inhabit, made up of the people I follow and the people who follow me, that subset is a place with a positive emotional valence. So we tend to pass on good news, not bad.

It doesn’t mean that bad news does not get passed by Twitter, or by my subset perspective. Of course there’s bad news in Twitter. But there’s also humour. And satire. And old-fashioned good-neighbourliness. And a whole lot of good news.

Twitter tells us about the miracle on the Hudson as quickly as it tells us about the crash over the Atlantic. Let’s keep it that way, let’s make sure we keep the web a place where good news is spread, not just bad. Where we help each other. Where we’re kind to each other. Where we build each other up. Maybe it’s because so many of the people I know are themselves children of the Sixties, maybe it’s why I get accused of being utopian and rose-spectacled. You know what? I don’t care.

There’s a whole world out there doing just the opposite. So let’s keep the web different.

gently musing about marginalia and related issues

Whenever Wimbledon comes along, I am pleasantly reminded of a question I was asked at school.

The question was simple. If you have 128 people playing in a knockout tournament, how many matches will it take to complete the tournament? Assume no draws or replays.

When we were asked the question, everyone knew the traditional way to get the answer. 128 people. 64 pairs. 64 matches in the first round. Then 32. Then 16. Then 8. Then 4, then 2, then 1. Giving us 64+32+16+8+4+2+1 or 127.

Later on that day, a few of us got into conversation with the teacher, and an alternative route was broached. 128 people. How many winners? One. So how many losers? 127. So how many matches will that take? 1 loser generated per match. 127 matches.

How I loved the simplicity of that approach. Just work out the number of losers and you will have the number of matches. I could have danced all night.

I felt the same way when I first learnt about decimals. Why some decimals “terminate”. Why others “circulate”. How beautifully they do this.

The way I was taught it was something like this. Think of a fraction. Convert it into a decimal. Think of another fraction. Convert it into a decimal. Do this a dozen times with different fractions, and observe the results.

It soon became clear that most fractions didn’t terminate cleanly, they “recurred”. Fractions like 1/3, 2/7, 3/11. Some fractions, on the other hand, ended cleanly, fractions like 1/2 and 2/5 and 3/10. It didn’t take too long to see that the only fractions that terminated were those where the denominator contained factors of 2 and/or 5.

2 and 5. In a base 10 world. Oh yeah. That bored me. So what did I find interesting about decimals? Again, it took a question.

And the question went something like this. Other than those with 2 or 5 as denominator, all fractions that have a prime number as denominator recur when expressed as decimals. The length of the recurring number or numbers is called the period of recurrence. So for example 1/3, or 0.333333…. has a period of 1, 1/11 or .090909…. has a period of 2. What is the maximum period of recurrence of any fraction where the denominator is a prime other than 2 or 5?

Which led to a lovely meandering journey. To convert a fraction into a decimal you have to divide the numerator by the denominator. You keep carrying the residue over until it is zero (in which case the fraction terminates). Or you keep carrying over and over and over.

When would a fraction circulate? When it hits the same residue again and starts the same sequence of residues as a result.

So how long before the same residue must be encountered? That depends on how many different residues can be had before that. What is the maximum number of different residues? One less than the denominator prime.

Discovering that 1/97 indeed has a period of recurrence of 96 filled me with glee. 96 different residues before the same residue is encountered. How beautiful.

There are so many others, little stories and techniques and tricks and tips that have helped me keep a passionate amateur interest in mathematics, particularly in the theory of primes.

The trouble with being an amateur like me is that you start getting idealistic about the subject. And you believe in things like elegance and simplicity. Which means that I’m one of those guys who still believes that there must be an elegant solution to Fermat’s Last Theorem. A solution that could not be jotted down in a book about Diophantine equations, but a short and elegant solution nevertheless.

My love for mathematics exists because others put their love of maths into me first. They spent time with me and explained things to me and taught me and filled me with wonder and amazement.

It’s the same thing with so much in life. Whatever you love, whoever you love. Love has to be shared in order to grow.

So when I think about copyright and patent and stuff like that, when I think about music and art and stuff like that, I think about love. The love that a creative artist puts into his or her creation. And how love has to be shared in order to grow.

Thinking about teachers and learners

For some people, the internet, the web and social networks are all about A-lists and cabals and cliques and echo chambers. I don’t know about that, I’m not some people. I find the web very useful.

One of the things that distinguishes this continuing-to-emerge space from all that went before is in the context of learning. For anyone who wants to learn, the web is a wondrous place. I want to learn. So for me the web is a wondrous place.

Learners need teachers. On the web, this often means people who sacrifice incredible personal time and energy writing out what they’re thinking about, what they themselves are learning, so that they can teach others. And learn more themselves as a result; teachers need learners as well.

The best teachers are usually themselves lifelong learners; the reason they teach well is that they are learning as they teach, and they take care to do that.

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Bob Frankston and Dan Bricklin, the co-creators of Visicalc, are two such people. Lifelong learners, passionate about everything they’re interested in, selflessly sharing what they’re learning with anyone who wants to learn with them.

I discovered their blogs early on, and for a decade or so have been able to enjoy their teachings and learnings from a distance. Bob’s writings can be found here, while Dan writes here. If you haven’t already done so, start reading them today. I cannot recommend them strongly enough.

Over the years I’ve had opportunity to meet both Bob as well as Dan; they’ve always been willing to spend time with me. I now count them amongst my friends and feel privileged in being able to learn from them.

Recently Dan published a book, Bricklin on Technology. A solid two-handed read, 500 pages long. What he’s done is taken the essays he’s written, grouped them into logical sections, commented and enriched them here and there, and all in all produced a wonderful collection of essays and an eminently readable book.

Dan thinks very hard about everything he does, and it shows throughout the book. The principles that drive him are in evidence everywhere, principles that need propagating and embedding far and wide.

One, as technologists we are in the business of building tools. Tools that help people do things simply and easily. Tools that can be used in a variety of ways, in a variety of contexts, for a variety of reasons.

Two, the people that use the tools are also very diverse; they’re diverse in their ability to use the tools, the skills they bring with them, the environments and contexts they operate in and with. They’re diverse in the motivations that drive them to use the tools, diverse in the aims and objectives they have in using the tools. The tools we build have to support this diversity.

Three, our ability to build tools well is increasing. We’re learning more about building tools that others will use to build more tools; we’re learning more about building tools as open platforms upon which others can build over-the-top tools; we’re learning about building feedback loops that take the emotion out of many unnecessary discussions, ways of measuring what is happening easily and cheaply.

Four, all this is being done in a social context, in community rather than as individuals. So as designers we need to remind ourselves there are social and moral aspects to what we do.

There’s no point my quoting directly from his book; there’s too much I would want to quote, and my posts are long enough as it is. So I’m just going to quote one line from his summary:

It is usually the users of technology, not the inventors, who determine how tools are applied.

In some ways that’s what the book is about. Thoughtful, considered discussions on the user perspective. How to make sure we understand the motivations and context. How to build tools that work well yet are intrinsically “free”, versatile enough to let the user choose what to do and how. How to sidestep political/emotional debates by rigorous examination of the facts. And how to keep remembering that value is generated by the usage of the tools and not by the tools themselves.

An exhilarating read, well worth the effort. While I’d read many of the essays first time around, I was particularly taken with three sections: the discussions on what users will pay for; the views on the recording industry; the interview with Ward Cunningham.

I particularly particularly particularly enjoyed re-reading the essay on Book Sharing, a classic example of what happens when two clever and gifted people discuss important things. Thank you Dan, and thank you Bob for pushing him to write it and publish it.

So use your Saturday wisely. Order the book. Now.

[A coda. I’m looking forward to Bob taking a leaf out of Dan’s book and publishing a similar book. You listening, Bob?]

Rambling about creativity and capital and content and frames

In this context of creativity and web, Jonathan Zittrain, or JZ as he gets called, made a number of critical points in his excellent book The Future of the Internet And How to Stop It cover.jpg One of those key points is to do with the “generative” web, the phrase he uses to describe the open and innovative and creative aspects of the web; JZ spends time articulating the rise of locked-down devices, services and whole environments as a direct response to the ostensibly anarchic nature of the generative web, with its inherent vulnerabilities and weaknesses. … ] The implied tension between “generative” and “secure” that is to be found in JZ’s book, resonated, in a strange kind of way, with some of the ideas in Carlota Perez’s Technological Revolutions and Financial Capital: 184376331101lzzzzzzz.jpg The book remains one of my all-time favourites, I’ve probably read it a dozen times since it was published.

The tragic death of Michael Jackson has dominated much of the news this past week, even overshadowing the Iran situation in some quarters. Strange but true. Jackson’s death has had some unusual consequences, as people try and deal with their own reactions in different and creative ways. While the original story broke, I believe, on TMZ, Twitter was the river that carried the news to the world.

And Twitter was overwhelmed. Which meant the arrival of the much-loved Fail Whale:

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Which led someone to come up with this:

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This concerned a small number of people, who were worried that the image may cause offence. Which in turn led someone else to this:

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And so it went on, as people sought more and more creative ways of expressing their emotions and paying tribute to Michael Jackson. Wallpaper downloads. Posters. Photographs. Videos. Collages and montages. All in double-quick time. For me the most creative was this mashup:

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BillieTweets. Where someone has taken a Billie Jean video and made the lyrics visual using tweets where the relevant word has been highlighted. Follow the link to see how it works. [Thanks to the Scobleizer for the heads-up. And safe travels.].

All this is part of the magic of the web, the value that is generated when people have the right access and tools and ideas. Human beings are so incredibly creative.

In this context of creativity and web, Jonathan Zittrain, or JZ as he gets called, made a number of critical points in his excellent book The Future of the Internet And How to Stop It

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One of those key points is to do with the “generative” web, the phrase he uses to describe the open and innovative and creative aspects of the web; JZ spends time articulating the rise of locked-down devices, services and whole environments as a direct response to the ostensibly anarchic nature of the generative web, with its inherent vulnerabilities and weaknesses. [If you haven’t read the book, do so, it’s worth it. ]

The implied tension between “generative” and “secure” that is to be found in JZ’s book, resonated, in a strange kind of way, with some of the ideas in Carlota Perez’s Technological Revolutions and Financial Capital:

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The book remains one of my all-time favourites, I’ve probably read it a dozen times since it was published. And given away many many copies, something I have done with a very small number of books, including: The Social Life of Information, The Cluetrain Manifesto and Community Building on The Web.

The resonant piece was this: One of Perez’s seminal findings was the difference between financial capital and production capital.

In Perez’s view, financial capital “represents the critera and behaviour of those agents who possess wealth in the form of money or other paper assets….. their purpose remains tied to having wealth in the form of money (liquid or quasi-liquid and making it grow. To achieve this purpose, they use …. intermediairies …. The behaviour of these intermediaries while fulfilling the function of making money from money that can be observed and analysed as the behaviour of financial capital. In essence, financial capital serves as the agent for reallocating and redistributing wealth.

Perez goes on to say that “the term production capital embodies the motives and behaviours of those agents who generate new wealth by producing goods or performing services.

Through these distinctions, she clearly delineates the differences between the “process of creating wealth and the enabling mechanisms”; these distinctions are then played out through a number of “surges” or paradigm shifts. An incredible book.

For some time now, I’ve been wrestling with the connections between Zittrain’s generative web and Perez’s production capital, and formed my own views of the progressive-versus-conservative tensions that can be drawn from such a juxtaposition.

All this came to the fore again in the context of copyright and content, as I read Diane Gurman’s excellent First Monday piece on Why Lakoff Still Matters: Framing The Debate On Copyright Law And Digital Publishing

I give the abstract of the article here:

In 2004, linguist and cognitive scientist George Lakoff popularized the idea of using metaphors and “frames” to promote progressive political issues. Although his theories have since been criticized, this article asserts that his framing is still relevant to the debate over copyright law as applied to digital publishing, particularly in the field of scholarly journals. Focusing on issues of copyright term extension and the public domain, open access, educational fair use, and the stewardship and preservation of digital resources, this article explores how to advocate for change more effectively — not by putting a better “spin” on proposed policies — but by using coherent narratives to frame the issues in language linked to progressive values.

Reading the article took me back to Perez and to Zittrain. Our Lakoffian frames of “strict father” and “nurturant parent” are in many ways congruent with the generative-versus-secure and production-versus-financial continua described by JZ and Carlota. As Gurman says:

Lakoff’s nurturant parent embodies values of equality, opportunity, openness and concern for the general welfare of all individuals. Under the progressive economic model, markets should serve the common good and democracy…. The strict father frame, on the other hand, centres on issues of authority and control. The moral credo expresses the belief that if people are disciplined and pursue their self-interest they will become prosperous and self-reliant. The favoured economic model is that of a free market operating without government interference.

A free market operating without government interference. Hmmm I remember those.

Despite the credit crunch, the economic meltdowns, the rise in fraud, despite the socialisation of losses and the privatisation of gains that ensued, many things have not changed. And they must. We need to move to a generative internet production capital world. And for that maybe we need to think about what Diane Gurman is saying.

We need to frame our arguments around our values rather than just on the facts and figures; we need to weave a coherent narrative based on public benefit via empowerment and access.

We can see the implications of this divide in many of the arguments that are being had in the digital domain. For example, the recent announcement by Ofcom of its intention to enforce regulated access to premium (and hitherto exclusive) content is a case in point, where the same arguments prevail.

The response of the incumbent, while understandable, is benighted. You only have to look at the public benefit implications, particularly those to do with human progress and innovation.

The returns expected from production capital differ from those expected out of financial capital for a variety of reasons; the most important reason is that when you’re in the business of creating value and wealth, rather than redistributing it, the returns tend to be somewhat less than astronomical.