The Keys to the Kingdom

By Dave Rogers

"There was once a Web site," said the Teacher, "one of the first of its kind."

Her students huddled close, eager to hear the parable.

"It quickly found a wide and loyal audience," the Teacher continued, "satisfying its overseers who saw little reason to tamper with success. So as time and technology marched on, the site's design grew dated, even ancient.

"After many years, a bright young team saw the site's hidden potential and launched a fresh design that included Ajax and Flash." (Here the students nodded.) "Just one such component cut page loads for a very popular feature by more than 90 percent. Users saved time and effort while the entire site ran faster due to reduced server demand."

"So how do you think the site's financiers viewed the change?"

"No doubt they were pleased with the improved user experience," said one acolyte, "seeing that it would bring increased traffic."

"And they were glad to see the site brought to then-current standards," surmised another.

The Teacher sighed. "Yes, one would think so. But that was not the case."

Her students waited.

"Instead, they were unhappy. You see, monthly page views were the basis of the site's revenue. By reducing them by many millions, the young designers had slashed the site's marketability to advertisers. The financiers saw the innovations as impediments to corporate fortunes."

The students stood silent.

About a year ago, I offered my two cents on the Web 2.0 phenomenon. "Web 2.0 is all the rage," I said, and suggested that for all of the talk about its technology, users drive the Web 2.0 juggernaut by flocking to the sites that respect them, treat them as partners, engage them in conversation and make it easy for them to accomplish their goals. At the time I pointed to the Amazons, Googles, Bloggers, flickrs and BitTorrents as examples—and the subsequent meteoric rise of MySpace would seem to bolster my enthusiasm. But are things all that rosy a year later?

Let's step back for a refresher. Despite the media's fascination with its cutting-edge technology, Web 2.0 has a far more radical concept behind it. Tim O'Reilly's "compact summary" bears repeating here:

Web 2.0 is the network as platform, spanning all connected devices; Web 2.0 applications are those that make the most of the intrinsic advantages of that platform: delivering software as a continually-updated service that gets better the more people use it, consuming and remixing data from multiple sources, including individual users, while providing their own data and services in a form that allows remixing by others, creating network effects through an "architecture of participation," and going beyond the page metaphor of Web 1.0 to deliver rich user experiences.

That radical concept I mentioned? It's this: Web 2.0 seeks to create an "architecture of participation" where a particular site's content is enhanced by handing it over to users without restriction. It's about tearing down the walls between "producers" and "consumers" to create uninhibited conversations in a networked commons that benefits all.

Sounds great, doesn't it? Yet this giant leap in user participation from Web 2.0 has languished even while the technology has advanced. And we can blame the usual culprits.

Our first parable demonstrates how even a simple technological change can make the bean-counters positively apoplectic. Can you imagine their consternation about turning over, gulp, intellectual property to the masses? About permitting customers to post unmediated content in the midst of the company's biz-speak? About letting employees freely engage in public conversations with end-users?

Here's the problem. On the one hand, we have the Web's major players. Most are corporations with the fiduciary duty to provide the greatest return to their stockholders. (I don't begrudge that. I own stock in a number of companies and have a corporation of my own.) Yet that very duty dulls corporate willingness to fully embrace experimentation, innovation and change—change like that heralded by Web 2.0.

On the other hand, we have the Web. Web sites are living things in a Darwinian struggle for life. Driven by ever-advancing technology and the demands of ever-increasing users, the Web is in constant, often chaotic, flux. To paraphrase Gertrude Stein, there is no "done" there; the Web is about change. To resist is futile, to stop is to die. The Web thus finds life in Web 2.0's promise of an "architecture of participation."

So we have two opposing forces, one tending toward predictability and protection, the other desperate for the freedom to evolve. Guess which has the upper hand? Hence the unimpeded growth of Web 2.0's technological branch while its user-centric counterpart has yet to bud.

A shy apprentice approached the Teacher. "Tell us more about the Ancient Ones," he asked.

"All right," she replied. "Gather 'round. First, what can you tell me about them?"

"Well, there were four..." began one recent arrival.

"Yes, yes," said another. "There was Searls, also called "The Doctor."

"And Weinberger...and Levine," interrupted yet another.

"And, of course, that rascal Chris Locke," concluded the first.

"And why are they so honored among us?" the Teacher responded.

"For the 95 Theses!" came the unanimous reply as the students bowed their heads in respect.

"But, Teacher, which of the Theses is the greatest of them all?" asked one lad.

"The first," replied the Teacher. "'Markets are conversations.' Can you recite others that add light?"

The students paused for access."Yes!" said one."Thesis 53: 'There are two conversations going on. One inside the company. One with the market.'"

"And 54," said another. "'In most cases, neither conversation is going very well. Almost invariably, the cause of failure can be traced to obsolete notions of command and control.'"

"Theses 56 and 57 apply as well," chimed a third. "'These two conversations want to talk to each other. They are speaking the same language. They recognize each other's voices.' And 'Smart companies will get out of the way and help the inevitable to happen sooner.'"

The Teacher smiled. "You have learned well."

"Markets are conversations." Coined in 1999's Cluetrain Manifesto, it could be the mantra for Web 2.0. Since then, hundreds of millions have joined the Web's ever-more-complex network of conversations. It's a no-holds-barred, all-comers-welcome, free-for-all of shared information and adventure. Yet most companies and businesses are missing the party.

Oh, they're making appropriate noises about joining the conversation. The latest is the abhorrent term, "user-generated content," often abbreviated to "UGC." Read the press. Every week, more companies open their sites (with great fanfare) to user reviews, comments, ratings, you name it.

But here's the dirty little secret about UGC. It's not about end-users. It's about the companies themselves. To wit, after the disdainful claim that only a "microscopic number of Internet users actually generate public content about anything other than themselves," a recent article revealed what's behind the curtain (italics added):

They have brand ideas? Creative ideas? Product ideas? Great, great, and great! As brand experts, we'll hear them out. If, and only if, it leads to content that's better than what's already being created, we can and should use it.

So customers and users get to participate only when the gatekeepers decide they are worthy! UGC isn't a step toward a conversation among equals; it is command-and-control in disguise. "Do not adjust your Internet. We will adjust it for you." Balderdash! (That's not the first word I had in mind.)

MySpace—for all its aesthetic horrors—demonstrates the power of Web 2.0 technology freely shared with a world hungry for conversation. Yet since its purchase, News Corp. has chipped away at MySpace's freedom, squeezing its lifeblood—unrestricted conversation—like toothpaste from a tube. That's why I predict the demise of MySpace as we know it within three years. (You read it here first.)

Last time, I quoted Danny Meyer, an award-winning restaurateur on the subject of hospitality:

Hospitality is present when something happens for you. It is absent when something happens to you...

I enthusiastically advocated this "for you" philosophy for the Web, seeing it as the next breakthrough in user experience. Well, I was wrong. It doesn't go far enough. Doing something "for" someone shares an unfortunate trait with doing something "to" someone:Both are tainted by top-down, command-and control thinking. "We decide what we will do for you" is not a conversation among equals.

Instead, the future of the Web (and Web 2.0) lies in doing things with customers and end-users. This means tearing down the firewalls, the PR-speak, the brochureware and the pseudo-conversations of UGC to give users access to company Web content and employees without restriction.

And the promise of Web 2.0 is going to remain unfulfilled until a few companies are brave enough to give away the keys to their well-fortified Web kingdoms.