From: James Fallows
To: Wen Stephenson
Date: 1/24/2002
Subject: Beyond the Bubble
It appears that the myth of
the Internet as a great "democratizing" force, "leveling the playing field" and
all that, has been exposed, at least when it comes to financial markets. In
other words, far from "democratizing the market" and "leveling the playing
field," it looks as though the new media associated with the Internet bubble --
the 24-hour cable outlets like CNBC and CNNfn, as well as the online Motley
Fool, TheStreet.com, et al., and the online trading firms -- instead gave rise
to new demagogues (in the form of venture capitalists, investment bankers,
analysts, and business journalists), and enabled them, as never before, to
manipulate the investing public. You may or may not agree with that whole
premise, and I'm curious to hear your reaction to it. But I also want to ask,
is there truly something about the Internet itself, as a medium, that fed the
bubble? We hear how the Internet IPO frenzy "fed off of itself." Was something
new going on here?
It's intriguing to think that the very nature of the technology at the heart of
this financial bubble made the bubble's expansion, and inevitable collapse,
more violent or volatile than they might otherwise have been. And it is
probably true that the unprecedented velocity-of-gossip created by Internet
technologies made the financial climate extra nervous and panicky, both on the
way up and on the way down. I may be one of the few computer-owning Americans
who has never bought or sold a stock online, never looked for stock tips on
Motley Fool or Yahoo chatrooms, never tried to get early shares of an IPO. But
even I knew all this was going on around me, and felt vaguely nervous not to be
part of it. That made me feel like a chump during the boom years, and leaves me
with vague dread during the slump years. After all, those other people's nutty
speculative habits are dragging down even careful, stolid types like me!
However: I still think that the exact nature and effect of Internet technology
was less important in creating the bubble, compared to the simple fact that the
technology was new. Because it was new, a lot of people making
investment decisions didn't really understand it. (I'm being generous, as you
know if you ever saw some financial "analyst" -- on CNBC, for example --
look puzzled when hearing a term like "URL.") Because it was new, even people
who did understand it couldn't really be sure of what its full business
potential might be. Because it was new, it was like other bubbles we've
experienced before -- ones involving the oil industry, or newly opened land in
Florida or the West, or biotech, or the spice trade with India centuries ago.
Like other aspects of modern life, this one was bigger and faster than its
predecessors, but the fundamental impetus was the same.
The debate over the so-called "new economy" has been going on for some time,
and we're not going to resolve it here. I'm more interested in the
rhetoric of the "new economy." It's become a kind of cliché that
the "new economy" thinking drove the Internet boom and that the concept was
revealed as hollow once the bubble had burst. This is where the dancers on the
dotcom grave seem to be dancing most gleefully. What role did the "new economy"
thinking really play in the Internet boom and bust? |
Fallows served as the Washington editor of The Atlantic Monthly from
1979 to 1996 and is now the magazine's national correspondent. From 1996 to
1998 he was the editor of U.S. News & World Report, and he was a
columnist for The Industry Standard until it ceased publication last
year. He has written extensively about technology, the economy, and politics
for more than two decades, and is the author of several books, including
Free Flight: From Airline Hell to a New Age of Travel (2001),
Breaking the News: How the Media Undermine American Democracy (1996),
and Looking at the Sun: The Rise of the New East Asian Economic and
Political System (1994). This interview was conducted via email by Wen
Stephenson, managing editor of FRONTLINE's website, between August and December
2001.
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Just about everything concerning the Internet phenomenon benefits from
separating the short-term from the long-term view. For instance: we know that
in the short term the Internet has not really changed the balance of power in
politics or eliminated the importance of national borders. What it will mean in
the long run is another matter -- it would be like trying to foresee the full
impact of automobile culture in 1905.
So too with "New Economy" rhetoric. With the advantage of hindsight we can say
what the short-term importance of that phrase was during the bubble years. It
was a way for everyone to rationalize what was, by any normal standards,
irrational behavior. Two hundred dollars a share, for a company that's never
made a profit? Sure! Don't you know how the New Economy works? And to give
credit where it's due, not everyone who thought or talked this way was a
huckster or an idiot. There are times in history when assumptions and
operating rules change, and the people who fail to shift their thinking are the
ones laughed at in retrospect. ("Those Orientals will never be able to build
cars for American roads." "The customer will never need more than 48k of
computer memory.")
I suspect that, fifty years from now, we'll see that information technology
created a "New Economy" very much in the way that electricity, the telephone,
gasoline and oil, and antibiotics-and-immunization did. That is, it will remove
many barriers and limits previously assumed to be insuperable, and will be so
important that its role will almost become invisible. To take one example: the
same mainstream financial-and-media world that now hoots about the "absurd"
Internet stock bubble still under-appreciates, in my view, the impact of
the "eBay model" of doing business. The idea that millions of people can deal
directly and independently with millions of others has sweeping implications,
which we're only beginning to explore. To the extent people in the media world
notice the "eBay way," they think of it as a way that oddballs can trade
baseball cards with each other. I think it's more important than that. In the
long run, I'm a New Economy optimist. In the short run, with all appropriate
allowance for the people who were cynically fleecing the masses, I understand
why people used the term while the bubble was being puffed up.
If I can come back to this, one of the supposedly new things about the
"nature and effect" of the Internet (and, by association, the "new economy") is
that it has tended to level various playing fields, thereby democratizing
whatever it touches -- whether the stock market or the news media or software
development. And yet, as certain critics (such as Larry Lessig, in Code and
Other Laws of Cyberspace) have reminded us, the technology of the Internet
doesn't have any essential qualities -- there's nothing inevitable about the
social or economic effects of computer networks (or any technology), it's all a
matter of how the code is written, how it's engineered. And the code can just
as easily be written by large undemocratic corporations and government bodies
as by democratic hordes of hackers. So if there's nothing inherently
bottom-up about the Internet -- if it can just as well be programmed with a
top-down agenda by the AOL TimeWarners and the MSNBCs of the world -- then is
there any reason to think there's necessarily something new, in the sense of
level playing fields, about the "new economy"?
First I'll agree with the premise of your question -- and then, as you're
already guessing, I will disagree.
Since the time the financial markets began heading down, you could argue that
the existence of the Internet -- as a technology, as a business sector, and as
an economic concept -- has had an "old" rather than "new" effect on the
economy. One reason is that as more and more startups have folded, the
tech-and-Internet sector has become more risk-averse than the rest of the
economy. Even more important, the technology and telecommunications sector has
gone through a really impressive way of concentration and consolidation. Five
years ago, people -- including me -- would wring their hands about Microsoft's
excessive power. I still think that Microsoft's power is a problem, in its
sector -- but how about the AOL TimeWarner combine, which has vaster reach?
Without belaboring the points, for the last eighteen months people involved in
any part of the tech industry, or allied fields like telecommunication, seem to
have been acting as cautiously as anyone in the lumbering "old economy"
dinosaurs, and the whole industry is at the moment concentrating itself the way
the steel or auto makers did decades ago.
Moreover -- yes, there's a moreover -- we have learned from other technologies
that they are not inherently democratizing or "leveling." Despite the
existence of telephones and electricity and automobiles and computer chips, we
still have bosses and hierarchies. On the other hand, each of those inventions
has generally and eventually seemed part of a worldwide progress that
has made life freer and more equal for most people. I think information
technology will, generally and eventually, be part of that evolution too.
What do you think we've learned, or failed to learn, about the Internet's
real importance? And what might this suggest about the true cost of the
Internet bubble, not just in economic terms, but in social and even political
terms? That is, what was the "opportunity cost," so to speak, of lavishing so
much money, energy, and media attention on the Net economy? Now that the dust
has settled (and the economy has sunk into recession), can we see any more
clearly what the Internet's real value is? Are we any wiser than we were in
1995, when Netscape went public?
As we go along, I'm talking myself into a more optimistic state of mind about
the Internet than I realized I had. I'm not sure there were many
lastingly harmful "opportunity costs" of the bubble mentality. Yes, yes,
yes: I recognize that all kinds of harm did occur. There were innocent
financial errors. There was malicious financial misrepresentation. There was
even a significant opportunity cost to the "real" economy. I've recently
published a book, Free Flight: From Airline Hell to a New Age of Travel,
which is in large measure a story of that opportunity cost. Some real
inventors, who came up with a real, tangible, high-technology, manufactured
product -- namely, a safe, fast, small jet that cost roughly one-tenth
as much as existing corporate jets, and therefore could be used by a much
broader traveling audience -- nearly went crazy trying to raise capital in the
late 1990s, because the herd instinct was leading venture capitalists to
"interesting" Net startup ideas.
Still, I think the opposite over-reaction, after the 2000 Nasdaq crash,
against the Internet and anything associated with it, could be almost as
harmful. Eventually people are bound to do more and more of their purchasing
online. It would be insane for them not to -- it just allows you to do things
more quickly and with more information. Eventually more and more news and
"content" will be distributed that way. In the late 1990s we saw some basically
crazy ideas propped up by herdlike funders. After the crash some basically
sound ideas were torpedoed by the same herd reaction. After all, something like
WebVan will eventually make money, as will something like the late, lamented
wireless internet system, Ricochet. The volatility that drove the market up
three years ago drove it back down starting early in 2001. This, I suppose, is
capitalism in action -- "animal spirits" and all. And of course the dramatic
change in political, military, and economic circumstances since the Sept. 11
terrorist attacks makes it even harder to know how and when the technology
puzzle will sort itself out.
When you speak of "herds" and "animal spirits," do you mean "the public," as
in the individual investors who bought tech stocks in such numbers during the
late 90s, especially toward the end of the bubble? Or do you mean the entire
investment community, from VCs and investment banks to institutional investors?
Is it possible that the venture capitalists and investment bankers who, in a
way, brought us the bubble -- by taking so many young companies public before
their time -- are being let off the hook? Is it right to assign a fair amount
of blame, or if not blame then a sizable portion of responsibility, to the
funders on Sand Hill Road and Wall Street?
I think there is blame enough for everyone here. Some rogue individuals went
crazy with their E*Trade accounts. But the more damaging forms of irrationality
were, as you suggest, probably practiced by the "rational" people in charge of
large pools of other people's money -- including the "investment" sages who put
the mutual-fund hoardings of people like you and me into nutty dotcom
prospects.
Putting short-term predictions aside, as you look back over the past year or
18 months, what connection do you see between the dotcom crash and the current
economic (and political) climate? The whole story of the Internet economy has
been eclipsed by Sept. 11 and its aftermath, but to play a kind of "What If?"
game, what shape do you think the economy -- and the political debate about the
economy -- would be in today if the events of Sept. 11 had never taken place?
That is, in terms of the economy and the politics surrounding it, what's the
more important story?
I don't know. My experience is that it takes a very long time to detect the
difference between little economic bumps-in-the-road and real, historic
changes. During the Vietnam war, everyone's attention was on the war itself --
and if not on the war, on the assassinations, riots, and generalized chaos of
American life. Few people noticed, while it was going on, the beginnings of the
historic inflation that was to become the dominant economic reality of the next
dozen years. On the other hand, when the stock market crashed in 1987, people
seemed more worried than they have been about our current much more dramatic
(if less sudden) financial decline.
So it will be a while before anyone can really answer your question. My
guess is that we'll see the tech-slide and the terrorist attack as the
classic, unwholesome combination of chronic and acute problems. The chronic
problem is the contraction of the tech and financial markets. The acute shock
is the attack -- whose economic effects we may still be underestimating. But to
return to safer ground: I don't really know.
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