Rebel geek
The media's fascination with Bill Gates reflects the myth
of the entrepreneur as romantic outlaw
by Dan Kennedy
ONE RECENT MORNING, Michael Lewis was on National Public Radio
plugging his latest book, The New New Thing, a biography of high-tech
visionary Jim Clark. Lewis was asked what Clark -- a mathematical genius who
was the driving force behind Netscape and, before that, Silicon Graphics --
would have done with his life if he had come of age, say, during the 1920s.
Lewis's answer was revealing -- not for the profundity of what he said, but
rather for the way he enthusiastically, and unquestioningly, embraced one of
the defining mythologies of our time: that of the entrepreneur as romantic
outlaw.
Lewis told the interviewer he had asked Clark himself a question very much
like that. "He gave me the answer I thought was the answer: he'd be in jail,"
Lewis said. "This is a profoundly antisocial character. He's sitting outside of
society, trying to figure out how to tip it on its side and change it somehow.
It happens that the market is channeling these instincts in such a way that it
may be for the better of society, but these instincts are antisocial. These
instincts are revolutionary."
No doubt Clark and Lewis are intoxicated by their own hyperbole, but they are
hardly alone. The business leader as dangerous revolutionary is one of the
animating ideas of the late 1990s. And it has a lot to do with why the war
between Microsoft and the federal government has become the subject of such
endless public discussion.
Microsoft chairman Bill Gates is hardly the most revolutionary corporate titan
(although he is, by most accounts, among the most antisocial). But he is by far
the best known: the richest man in the United States; the godfather of Windows,
installed on more than 90 percent of Intel-based personal computers; the
subject, tangentially at least, of an annoying 1995 novel (Douglas Coupland's
Microserfs); and the geeky symbol of both the Information Age and the
stock-market bounty it has produced.
And now, unlike that pretender Jim Clark, Gates stands on the verge of being
declared a genuine, certified outlaw.
Thus it's not surprising that US District Court judge Thomas Penfield
Jackson's November 5 "finding of fact" that Microsoft is, indeed, a monopoly
has emerged as the media's signature story of 1999 -- the natural successor, in
a sense, to O.J. Simpson, JonBenet Ramsey, and Monica Lewinsky.
Jackson's ruling not only led papers of record such as the New York
Times, the Washington Post, and the Boston Globe, but was
blared across the tabloid press as well, from the New York Post (JUDGE
BYTES BILL) to the Boston Herald (MICROSHOCK). (Because the decision
came on a Friday evening, the weekdays-only Wall Street Journal was cut
out of the immediate action, and played the story inside on Monday.) The Big
Three networks gave it a total of 12 minutes that Friday evening -- five
minutes more than the next-biggest story, the search for the black box from
EgyptAir Flight 990, according to Andrew Tyndall, publisher of the Tyndall
Report. Of the three US newsmagazines, Time and U.S. News &
World Report led with Microsoft, and Newsweek gave it a sizable
cover tease. A number of news-oriented Web sites put Jackson's highly technical
207-page decision online, as though it were The Starr Report II: The
Intern Strikes Back.
Even more telling than the quantity of coverage has been the unusually high
quality. It surely says something about the culture that, at a time when many
people can't even name their congressman, news organizations have provided
detailed explanations of the relationship between middleware and operating
systems, the difference between a finding of fact and a finding of law, and the
effects that various possible outcomes (breaking up Microsoft, releasing
Windows into the public domain, and the like) would have on both consumers and
investors.
"An outbreak of substance," quips Tom Rosenstiel, director of the Project for
Excellence in Journalism, adding: "When there's real news, it's a slap in the
face, and you rediscover that in some ways the press is better than it's ever
been."
But though the Microsoft anti-trust case surely is "real news," it's more than
that. It's a celebrity story about a man with immeasurable wealth -- a man who
has run his company as though the rules don't apply to him, and who is now
being called to account. It's a consumer story about products that tens of
millions of people use every day -- products that can be as aggravating as they
are ubiquitous. (The New Republic's John Judis recently called for the
break-up of Microsoft because "I have had nothing but grief from Bill Gates's
vaunted products." Take that, Bill!) And it's news you can use:
Newsweek/Washington Post columnist Robert Samuelson reported last week
that 48 percent of US households now own stocks or mutual funds, up from
just 19 percent in 1983. Microsoft has been a favorite among the millions
of small players who've entered the market during the past few years, and news
about the company affects them personally. (Me too: I own some shares of
Microsoft and of America Online, one of Microsoft's principal antagonists in
the anti-trust case.)
Not surprisingly, the Microsoft discussion board has been the busiest forum at
the Motley Fool -- a Web site for individual stock traders that attracts two
million "unique visitors" per month -- since Judge Jackson handed down his
decision, according to Chris Hill, a Fool spokesman. "I think it's very
reflective of the culture," says Hill of the media's obsession with Microsoft.
"It's reflective of the fact that more and more people are owning stocks and
are interested in business." Adds John Ellis, a business consultant and
columnist for Fast Company magazine: "It's all about the fascination
people have with the stock market and money."
Then, too, there is the simple fact that people feel passionately about
Microsoft. The Windows-versus-Macintosh war was decided in Gates's favor years
ago, yet it rages on, as though the subject were whether Roger Clemens
really had a blister in the sixth game of the 1986 World Series. Brock
Meeks, chief Washington correspondent for MSNBC.com, works for Mr. Bill, and
thus finds it particularly difficult to chart a credible course between the
pro- and anti-Microsoft partisans. "People have this real kind of knee-jerk
reaction about what should happen to Bill Gates's life," Meeks says. "I have
people calling me a running dog for Gates or saying, `Yeah, stick it to the rat
bastard.' Because computers are such a part of our everyday lives now, everyone
has an opinion of whether they love or hate Microsoft."
Indeed, the Microsoft case appears to be something people can't talk enough
about. John VanScoyoc, the producer of New England Cable News's
NewsNight, has done 15 programs on Microsoft during the past five years.
"That's a pretty good tally for a show that tries not to repeat itself," he
says. David Brudnoy, host of the evening talk show on WBZ Radio, did a segment
on Microsoft after Jackson's decision and reports that the switchboard lit up
with callers -- "all of them men, all of them informed, all of them technically
oriented." Adds Emily Rooney, host of WGBH-TV's Greater Boston:
"Everybody has some relation to Microsoft. Remember the trial regarding Xerox?
Nobody covered that."
Unfortunately, the appeal of the Microsoft story is unique, which suggests
that the "outbreak of substance" Tom Rosenstiel cited will not soon infect
other stories. Rosenstiel himself is under no such delusions, saying, "We know
how to do a good job. The problem is that we're under a lot of pressure to do
other things."
While millions learn why Linux may be a better solution for corporate servers
than Windows NT, the presidential race will no doubt continue to be defined by
George W. Bush's skill at foreign-policy pop quizzes, Al Gore's quest for alpha
dominance, Bill Bradley's old basketball buddies, and John McCain's penchant
for shooting his mouth off. This is, after all, the age of the businessman as
counterculture hero -- an age in which politics is seen as the preoccupation of
the small-minded and the unambitious. We live vicariously through
entrepreneurial outlaws such as Jim Clark and Bill Gates, measuring our own hip
subversiveness (to borrow an idea from Tom Frank, editor of the Baffler)
against what we imagine theirs to be.
Yet at the same time that the media focus critically on Gates's efforts to
build a software monopoly, they all but celebrate their own efforts to build a
culture monopoly. Norman Solomon, who writes the syndicated column "MediaBeat,"
argues that coverage of the Microsoft case has been so sophisticated mainly
because there were powerful players on several sides of the issue: Microsoft
was opposed not only by the federal government, but by huge corporations such
as Netscape, Intel, Sun, and AOL (which acquired Netscape while the anti-trust
trial was under way).
"If you didn't have that dynamic, this would be a much less legitimized story
in the mass media," Solomon says. By way of example, he points to the recent
merger of Viacom and CBS, an enormous concentration of TV, radio, and cable
networks, and a vast storehouse of programming as well. In scanning media
accounts in the first 24 hours after the merger was announced, Solomon says, "I
could not find a critical quote or statement from anyone about it."
Danny Schechter, a progressive media activist, wonders why the federal
government would pursue an anti-trust case against Microsoft rather than
Viacom-CBS, Time Warner-CNN, Disney-ABC, or General Electric-NBC. Bad as
Microsoft's behavior was, the fast pace of technological change could make
whatever solution Judge Jackson decides to impose obsolete within a matter of
months. By contrast, Mel Karmazin, the top executive of Viacom-CBS, will have a
stranglehold on content for many years to come. That stranglehold will only get
tighter if he's able to persuade regulators to let him add NBC to his
collection of holdings, a goal he discussed in a notably uncritical profile in
the New York Times this past Sunday.
"If they [federal anti-trust prosecutors] won a victory against Microsoft,
maybe it's time to go after Mel Karmazin," says Schechter. "But that's
unlikely."
And that says something important about the media as well. Because the case
against Microsoft's software monopoly proceeded beneath the gaze of an
attentive but neutral press, which allowed the story to unfold and develop over
a period of years.
That would certainly not be true if the feds decided to go after the media
monopolies. After all, Bill Gates is merely a revolutionary, an outlaw who
broke the rules and got caught. Mel Karmazin -- and Michael Eisner, Gerald
Levin, Jack Welch, Rupert Murdoch, and the Newhouse brothers -- are far more
powerful, far more intimidating, far more accustomed to getting their way in
Washington. Then, too, what government official would want to piss off a
corporation that could destroy her career with one newscast?
The Microsoft case was useful for showing that anti-trust law still
exists. But there is little evidence that government has the will to use it
against the far more insidious monopolists who control what we know and,
ultimately, how we think.
Dan Kennedy can be reached at dkennedy[a]phx.com.