By Shivaji Dasgupta
Contrary to routine literary mobility, the final chapters of Kara Swisher’s intense melodrama are the calmest. The others replicate an IPL batting carnage, occasionally marinated in deep philosophy while invariably drenched in torrential downpours—amply befitting popular technology and its not-so-popular impresarios.
The first-hand impressions are both dramatic and damning. Throughout her journey, from East Coast to West, she reveals strains of the Stockholm Syndrome, critical yet addictive affections for her emotional captors… Expletives flow freely, like a Spaghetti Western, the airs of soothsayer and diva converging in an indefatigable oneness.
Donald Trump’s invitation to tech gurus, post-presidency, is the basis for her proclamation of ‘casual hypocrisy’ for the Silicon Valley universe. With the notable exception of Meg Whitman, the ‘digital arms dealers of the modern age’ attended with undue diligence, in spite of their stated distaste for Trump and his policies. Evidence of a dubious integrity quotient.
In the early chapters, her troubled childhood earns an appropriate cameo. The death of a loving father (just 34) and a rather obnoxious replacement toughened her for the imminent universe. John Mclaughlin, an early boss with ill-concealed fangs, bears the brunt of angry repartees… “Everything that can be digitised will be digitised”, the author’s coinage forms the crux of the boot camp age in tech. The Wright Brothers Kitty Hawk analogy is fascinating—they flew for just 12 seconds but they did fly. Every milestone in telephony and the internet is thus rationalised—the early viral downloads of a coffee maker installation and a Pope John Paul II speech. Tech did seem so niche and techies even more obscure.
Swisher’s shift to California and her collaboration with Walt Mossberg, long-lasting, is the prelude to the gregarious character sketches of superheroes. Marc Andreesen of Netscape is first off the blocks, investing in an adult kindergarten for an office space. She raises an abiding thread for many such icons’ tough childhoods with a non-existent or an abusive father. Perhaps a conscious similarity to her own life, thus, contributing to an abiding aura of arrogance, hatred and anger.
Jerry Yang and David Filo of Yahoo are credited for being consumer-focused albeit artisanal, taking their gateway role too intently. Google comes across as the ‘database of human intentions’, the debate between good people and bad people raised logically. And in later chapters, red flagged alarmingly. Jeff Bezos of Amazon is described as ‘feral’ with much appreciation for his focus on distribution and systems, books becoming a thoughtful starting point. Technology, rather notably, playing the role of empowered enabler and not a do-or-die destination.
The Bubble disasters of the early 21st century are calmly documented and provide a fine historical perspective. An insightful point about the triumph of creativity over assembly line value creation; exactly why Apple, in the long run, outshines Microsoft. Further evidence being the faulty Time-Warner AOL merger, where the driver was simply business consolidation.
Perhaps the most poignant depiction is that of Steve Jobs and his preoccupation with mortality. Which actually led to a prolific track record of development —the iPhone emerging rapidly during his cancer battles. His vision of technology as the gatekeeper of media defines not just his legacy, but the awe-inspiring roadmap of Apple. Such happy skirmishes with philosophy suitably enrich the lengthy read.
A fine deviation is SillyWood, convergence of Hollywood and Silicon Valley. Right from the movie camera (opportunistically patented by Edison), film making has been thriving on technology. Like George Lucas’ convergence of art and science demonstrates the intuitive alliance, now in fast-forward mode.
Many more anecdotes follow. The operating vision of Bob Iger versus the egocentricity of Michael Eisner, Disney. Robert Murdoch’s colossal string of internet failures that corroborates his paucity of vision. Netflix and its fascinating customer-centric journey, leading to the The House of Cards home production of 2013, thus signalling a profitable era of indigenous content.
Mark Zuckerberg is butchered by Swisher with special focus on victimhood and megalomania. He compares himself, grandly, to the reign of Augustus Caesar. While on less thoughtful days, is plainly insensitive to the holocaust and Tiananmen Square. Travis Kalanick of Uber gets a zero rating for an intolerant and toxic work culture. Susan Fowler’s whistleblowing, in this context, is revealing. Dara Khoshrowshahi, Kalanick’s successor, is depicted as a cinematic saviour—productive and kind.
A deeply serious episode is the boy’s club culture of the tech industry, the discrimination extending to folks of colour. The much highlighted Ellen Pao case versus Kleiner Perkins is thought provoking. As is Sheryl Sandberg’s endeavour to bring lady leaders in the mainstream through soft power alliances.
Elon Musk must naturally feature as a key actor of the good-versus-evil story. Twitter clearly is no Google in intent or action, as per alarming evidence. This, in tandem with Donald Trump’s straight-faced abuse of social media for hate campaigning, raises a dire concern—on whether exceptional power is in the hands of a bunch of Blofelds running a new-age Spectre (James Bond’s timeless foes). The author painstakingly raises this matter throughout the screenplay. Satya Nadella and Sundar Pichai clearly appear as the good guys, driven by sensible professionalism. As is David Goldberg, Sandberg’s late husband, for whom Swisher reserves her finest compliments.
Burn Book, at large, is a heady mix of entertainment and fact, where Silicon Valley is projected as a modern-day coliseum, bad guys in the majority. Thus affecting cultural nuances, business and, most vitally, sustainability of civilisation. Swisher raises a fundamental red flag on maturity of tech leadership as well as influential followership—the intuitive democracy of this universe demanding and deserving some potent firewalls. Especially as AI comes closer.
While the read is clearly of potboiler cadre, the author has arguably imbibed moderate strains of megalomania from her close encounters with such genetic strains. “I told you so” is a sentiment that appears often, for both resounding failures and scintillating victories. Thankfully, the vibes are more lovable than despicable, and the contents thus eminently snackable.
The author is an autonomous brand consultant and writer.
Burn Book: A Tech Love Story
Kara Swisher
Simon & Schuster
Pp 320, Rs 799
