I promised myself I wasn’t going to blog about Franklin
Foer’s New Republic piece on how Amazon is an evil monopoly and must be stopped
and we’re all enslaving ourselves by shopping there blah blah blah. None of it is
remotely new or original or even coherent, and at some point I get tired of pointing
out the same deficiencies in these clone articles. But there was one line of bullshit
so breathtaking I just had to call it out.
Look, if Foer wants to claim Amazon is a “monopoly,” that’s just
routine
thoughtlessness, akin to a child being irrationally afraid
of the bogeyman. But then he goes on to make a claim that can only be the product
of shocking ignorance or brazen deceit:
That term [monopoly] doesn’t get tossed around
much these days, but it should.
Holy shit, “Amazon
is a monopoly” doesn’t get tossed around much these days?! Did Foer even read the
George Packer
piece he cites in his own article, in which Packer repeatedly plays the “Amazon
is a monopoly!” fear card? Has he ever heard of the “Authors Guild” or “Authors
United,” each of which has repeatedly, explicitly, accused Amazon of being a monopoly?
Has he read David
Streitfeld in the New York Times, or Laura Miller in Salon? I’ve seen countless
posts with titles like, Amazon: Malignant
Monopoly or Just Plain Evil? I’ve seen op-eds in the New York Times and the
Wall Street Journal, all peddling the same tired, tendentious fear-mongering line
about Amazon being a monopoly. Seriously, just Google “Amazon Hachette Monopoly”
and see what you come up with.
I see three general
possible explanations for Foer’s remarkably inaccurate claim.
1. Foer is embarrassingly ignorant of the subject
he’s trying to cover. He doesn’t read the New York Times or the Wall Street Journal;
he’s never heard of the Authors Guild or Authors United; the blogosphere exists only in some sort of inaccessible parallel dimension; he’s failed to do even the most
elementary online research… he just doesn’t have a clue regarding what he’s
writing about.
2. Foer is aware of how hoary the “Amazon is a monopoly”
meme has become and wants to repeat it, but doesn’t want to admit he has nothing
new to say. So he pretends he’s the first person to be possessed of this refreshingly
original argument.
3. Foer is aware of how hoary the “Amazon is a monopoly”
meme has become, but believes no other activist, not even the Authors Guild or Authors
United or the New York Times David
Streitfeld, has been sufficiently alarmist about how close The Amazon Monopoly Is To Enslaving Us All (look at the first sentence of the article: “let us kneel
down before” Amazon). So when he says, more or less, “No one else is talking about
this,” he really believes it, because he believes no one else is adequately conveying
just how terrifying it all is.
4. Foer knows perfectly well that “Amazon is a monopoly”
is about as ubiquitous a meme today as “Obama’s birth certificate was faked and
he is a Secret Marxist Muslim Socialist” was just recently. But he also knows you
can lend an air of false gravitas to bogus claims and conspiracy theories by implying
the mainstream media is too cowed to Speak The Truth, while you are doing something
bold, daring, and even dangerous by comparison.
I try to subscribe
to the notion that we should never attribute to malice what can be adequately explained
by stupidity. But really, is it possible to write a 3000-word article—with references
to articles that themselves claim Amazon is a monopoly—and genuinely believe “the
term monopoly doesn’t get tossed around much these days”? I’d like to believe that
Foer is just ignorant, and that the correct explanation is #1. But… wow. That’s
pretty damn ignorant.
All right, what
the hell, we’ve come this far. Just a few more thoughts on the rest of the article,
though I don’t know why I’m spending the time, because anyone who claims no one
else is accusing Amazon of being a monopoly has already disqualified himself from
being taken seriously.
Sure, Barnes and Noble and other chains have
long charged fees for shelf placement, but Amazon has invented a steroidal version
of that old practice.
Let me translate
that: “Amazon offers more value than B&N did, so charges more for it.”
In other
breaking news: Janet Evanovich charges her publisher more for her books than I
charge mine because she sells more copies, and she is therefore a monopoly.
Somebody, get the government to break up Janet Evanovich so I can compete!
(I’ll have
more to say below about the reactionary tendency to blame Amazon for the very
behavior incumbents like B&N have long behaved in and continue to behave
in.)
The New York Times has reported that Amazon
apparently wants to increase its cut of each e-book it sells, from 30 percent to
50…
Somehow, Foer
left out “but of course, no one really knows. And even if we did know, it would be incoherent
to discuss hypothetical percentages if we don’t also have information about wholesale
and retail prices.”
Random House joined Penguin to form a mega-house,
which controls 25 percent of the book business…
A “mega-house”?
That’s bad, right? Because now “the culture will suffer the inevitable
consequences of monopoly—less variety of products”?
Hmm, apparently
not. The New York “Big Five” cartel magically ensures variety. While the
company that invented Kindle Direct Publishing, enabling all authors to publish
whatever they want, is killing variety. Who knew?
This upfront money [the advance] is the economic
pillar on which quality books rest, the great bulwark against dilettantism…
Indeed, every
first-time novel—pretty much by definition written without an advance or even a
realistic hope of legacy publication—was written by a “dilettante.” Good to
know. Also good to know that authors don’t write quality books—the advances do that!
This is a
classic case of one of the logical fallacies I find most interesting among
people fearful of change: the tendency to conflate an important function (authors
making money from their work) with the traditional means by which that function
has been fulfilled (the advance). I can’t believe I’m still having to repeat this to
the Foers of the world, but… the advance is one
way by which authors have been compensated. It doesn’t follow, either logically
or empirically, that it is the only
way.
But no bank or investor in its right mind
would extend that kind of credit to an author, save perhaps Stephen King.
Again, could
somebody help me understand how all those first books get written? No advance,
no credit, and yet…
And “no bank”
would extend “that kind of credit”? Does Foer realize he’s talking about an average
of $5000? No bank? Really? And “no investor”? Hmm, well, if only someone would invent
a modern, web-based way of raising capital. Where someone could explain the project,
solicit investors… and maybe they could name it, I don’t know, “Kickstarter,” something
like that.
Or if only
someone would invent a means of reaching readers that didn’t require
gatekeepers and advances of credit in the unreachable average amount of $5000.
Something that would enable authors to publish themselves. We could even call
it… self-publishing!
Amazon might decide that it can only generate
enough revenue by further transforming the e-book market—and it might try to drive
sales by deflating Salman Rushdie and Jennifer Egan novels to the price of a Diet
Coke.
Yep. Or it might
try to drive sales by putting all its marketing muscle behind Snooki and 50 Shades
of Grey.
Oh wait, someone
else is already doing that. The guardians of rich literary culture, the
bulwarks against dilettantism, the guarantors of a greater variety of quality
books, etc.
But the
tendentiousness in Foer’s argument isn’t even what’s most interesting about it.
What’s implicit is even more so: that it would actually be bad if more people could afford to buy books by Salman Rushdie and
Jennifer Egan. How is this view any different from the arguments that must have
been made against the Vulgate Bible, or the Gutenburg printing press? “Tsk,
isn’t this just going to make reading more accessible to the unwashed masses?”
If you
haven’t read it already, I can’t recommend highly enough this
article by Clay Shirky about the aristocratic, elitist, narcissistic
worldview always inherent in the minds of people like Foer.
Or [Amazon] can continue to prod the publishing
houses to change their models, until they submit.
Or even until
they reform,
perhaps by offering authors a more equitable digital split, and paying authors
more often than twice a year, and permitting publication terms shorter than
“forever,” and dropping the draconian rights lock-ups from their contracts, and
by finding ways to give readers greater choice and access and lower prices, and
all
the other things they could do if they were interested more in competing
and less in complaining.
Either way, the culture will suffer the inevitable
consequences of monopoly—less variety of products and lower quality of the remaining
ones.
To paraphrase
David Gaughran, this would be a really interesting (and possibly even accurate)
point if no one had ever invented digital books and self-publishing.
As for the
notion that readers are so untermenschen
that they can’t determine for themselves what constitutes a “quality” book,
again, you’ve got to read that
Clay Shirky article.
This is depressing enough to ponder when
it comes to the fate of lawn mower blades.
Not nearly as
depressing as reading the same recycled, inaccurate, thought-free memes year
after year after year.
In confronting what to do about Amazon, first
we have to realize our own complicity.
Well, no, we
don’t. First we have to read all the good free advice people like Hugh Howey and
Joe
Konrath have offered publishers, and ask why it’s all been ignored in favor
of collusion and non-stop whining.
We’ve all been seduced by the
deep discounts, the monthly automatic diaper delivery, the free Prime movies,
the gift wrapping, the free two-day shipping, the ability to buy shoes or books
or pinto beans or a toilet all from the same place. But
it has gone beyond seduction, really. We expect these kinds of conveniences now,
as if they were birthrights.
Um, okay, I
guess, but couldn’t you can say the same about antibiotics and flush toilets and
ice cream straight from the freezer? Why isn’t Foer up in arms that people just
expect they can drive to the
supermarket for fresh milk, damn it, rather than having to get up in the cold
and dark at 4:00 a.m. to milk their own cow?
I could leave
that as a rhetorical question, but it isn’t really. There’s an answer. Which
is: people like Foer are afraid of change. If Foer had been born in a different
generation, he would have written similar screeds inveighing against the
horrors of the cotton gin, the automobile, the telephone, etc. Foer’s mentality
is always inherent in a percentage of the population; it just expresses itself
slightly differently depending on what happens to be the latest devil of
progress that’s poised to End Civilization And All That Is Good.
But while that meritocratic theory might
be true enough for a search engine or social media site, Amazon is different.
Oh, yes. Every
new change that terrifies people inherently afraid of change is different. Every
single one, throughout history. I’m serious: name a single significant social
or technological change ever, anywhere, that wasn’t accompanied by Luddites and
other alarmists declaring, “Yes, but this one is DIFFERENT.”
Unchallenged monopolists have little incentive
to disrupt industries they already control.
True! Which is
why the New York “Big Five” has long been such a boiling cauldron of innovation.
Regarding the
long section on how government intervention helped IBM and Microsoft, and allowed
Google to grow… actually, it was my novels that helped all these companies. The
third was published in 2004, and if you’ll check the timeline, you’ll see that Google’s
stock price is built on my publication dates. QED.
Still, if we don’t engage the new reality
of monopoly with the spirit of argumentation and experimentation that carried Brandeis,
we’ll drift toward an unsustainable future, where one company holds intolerable
economic and cultural sway.
How can someone
write something like that… and not be referring to the New York “Big Five”?
Another seeming rhetorical question that actually
has an answer. People who are fearful of change correspondingly worship the
status quo—because the status quo, by definition, doesn’t change. It doesn’t
matter whether the status quo is good or bad; what matters is just that it represents the absence of change, and
therefore must be supported. So even though all the bad things reactionaries
like Foer fear from Amazon in the future—too much power, too little variety,
too little innovation—already exist courtesy of the New York “Big Five” cartel,
Foer is as happy with the present as he is fearful of the future. Because if
there’s one thing the Big Five has always stood for, it’s keeping things
exactly the way they are. And if you’re possessed of a sufficiently reactionary
personality, there’s no better narcotic than that.