Itay Talgam did not mean to address this question when he appeared at Google’s 2008 Zeitgeist Conference, but he inadvertently offered an answer. Talgam, a renowned Israeli orchestra conductor, stood on a small semicircular stage wearing a wrinkled cotton polo shirt with a sweater draped over his shoulders, his sparse hair shooting in several directions. For a half hour, his presentation of how conducting could be a metaphor for transformational management hushed the audience. Music is “noise,” he began, and what the conductor does is “make a large group of people work in harmony.”
Scanning a century’s worth of conductors, he chose to discuss five. Each was outstanding, he said, but only two were transformational. The lights went down and on a large screen appeared a video clip of the autocratic Riccardo Muti, whose stern face and robotic baton movements brought forth from his orchestra no “joy,” and suppressed the development of individual artists. Muti’s “expression never changes,” Talgam said. “He tells everyone what to do. He is a micromanager.” The second conductor was Richard Strauss, who seemed to be in another place as he mechanically moved his arms, granting his orchestra more freedom but imposing no authority and offering no inspiration. The third was Herbert von Karajan, who never looked at his orchestra and also failed to inspire. The fourth was Carlos Kleiber, whose face was filled with rapture as he conducted and who, Talgam said, “creates a process” and “a feeling of freedom” while also conveying “authority.” Notice, he said, the way Kleiber shot a disapproving glance at a soloist.
Talgam saved his favorite conductor for last. With the fifth clip, we were treated to a video of Leonard Bernstein welcoming an orchestra of high school students from around the world who had been granted one week under his direction to perform Stravinsky’s
The Rite of Spring.
The first day of practice, the makeshift orchestra was discordant. But Bernstein did not wield a baton as a symbol of his “authority,” Talgam noted. Instead, he stopped the music and spoke of the feelings Stravinsky sought to evoke, of the smell of spring grass, of waking animals. “He empowers people,” Talgam said, “by telling them that their world is larger than they think.” Cut to a week later, and the high school orchestra sat attentively before Bernstein, who looked on with obvious satisfaction as an assembly of young strangers achieved musical harmony. Without a baton, arms folded, Bernstein conducted only with facial expressions—a curled lip and lowered head for the basses, a raised eyebrow for the higher strings, a nod to the horns, an extravagant smile for the finale. Talgam did not need to tell the audience what they had seen. It was a sublime management seminar demonstrating how unusual leaders liberate those who follow. Bernstein was the boss, but he was not an autocrat. He managed to coax the best out of his orchestra, to make them part of a community.
It was no accident that Google invited Talgam. This sense of being connected to something larger is central to its culture. Employees share offices and work in teams. Google strives to make employees feel that they are part of a network. When Patrick Pichette became CFO, he relied on a wisdom-of-crowds approach to cost cutting. He set up a Web page and invited employees to make suggestions to eliminate waste, which he said unearthed many of the best ideas. Google uses a variant of this network approach when it test-markets whether its users like blue or yellow, one beta product or another. Of course, this faith in quantification is what drove some designers to leave the company and to blog about their frustrations.
These forms of communication are characteristic of what Anne-Marie Slaughter, the former dean of the Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs at Princeton, has described as “the networked world,” a world that Google has been instrumental in advancing. Diplomacy requires “mobilizing international networks of public and private actors”; CEOs are acutely aware of “the shift from the vertical world of hierarchy to the horizontal world of networks”; the media increasingly is composed of “online blogs and other forms of participatory media” that “create a vast, networked conversation.” Society itself is networked, with “the world of MySpace” creating “a global world of ‘OurSpace,’ linking hundreds of millions of individuals across continents.” This world is one where a more open America, and a more open company, has distinct advantages.
Google has devised a management system that liberates its employees. The “Googly” way, said Laszlo Bock, Google’s vice president of people operations, is simply to treat employees better. “Google is a platform to say, ‘You can trust your folks.’ We want to be an example to other companies. The key is the 20 percent time, not the free food. There is a feeling here of intellectual freedom.” Even though there was some grumbling from Googlers in 2008—about costly child care, the closing of the Phoenix office—most recognized their work life was charmed. How many companies gifted its employees with new stock options to replace those that had become worthless? Asked what impact Google’s employment policies have had on other companies, Page said, modestly, “It’s hard for me to know. I’ve never worked anywhere else. But I feel that we have had an impact. We certainly got a lot of attention for the things we do for employees, and that’s positive.” It also means, he added, “Our competitors have to be competitive on some of these things.”
Marissa Mayer claimed that half of Google’s products materialize from the 20 percent time. This has fueled innovation at Google, and has helped wreak havoc on old media companies. The engineers who come to Mayer’s office seeking encouragement and company support for their projects often start with the same assumption Page and Brin do: that the tried-and-true ways of doing things are outmoded.
Google Voice, a suite of mobile phone services, provides a good illustration of how the company’s engineers think. They began with their favorite question, Why? If we use the Internet for phone calls, they wondered, why can’t all telephones have a single number? Why do we need multiple answering machines? Why do we need to switch phone numbers when we move? Why do we need to wait to listen to phone messages? Why can’t we convert them to text messages instead? Why can’t we record phone conversations if the other party consents? Why can’t our phones block telemarketing calls or make sure certain people are screened out? Because it’s over the Internet, why can’t most calls be free?
For its beta test, in 2007, Google introduced for a relatively small group a service that would work as Google Voice does. It was called GrandCentral, the name of a start-up Google acquired a few years earlier. With their regular phones, in the initial GrandCentral pilot project, users called into a voice mail service, then pushed a button to get a dial tone. They were now on the Internet. It was free and convenient. Users liked it but Google treated it like a “maybe” product, making no commitment to expanding the service. The snickers from those who thought the Google test must have failed, as David Pogue noted in the
New York Times,
became sneers.
In March 2009, Google Voice was announced, and the sneers turned to gasps. Everyone in the telephone business—from telephone companies to new entrants like cable companies to eBay’s Internet phone service, Skype, which imposes small charges on calls made on regular phones—had reason to be concerned. Google would at first give away the phone service for free, with a nominal charge for long distance calls, and hoped one day to sell the service to corporations at a low price.What was an advance for consumers was a potential setback for these companies. They were being Googled.
Once again, Google’s engineers proved their brilliance. They had devised the simplest, most cost-efficient way to accomplish a task. What impact Google Voice might have on the thousands of jobs in the telephone industry or on local communities was not a question the engineers asked. Nor did they ask about privacy. Because Google would be gathering data on the calling habits of its customers, there were obvious privacy questions. Nor did they ask what the ramifications were for a society if Google Voice succeeded and became as dominant in telephony as Google is in search, online advertising, YouTube, or digitized books. These questions were beyond the pay grade of the engineers.
Many Valley companies, and others, have modeled themselves after what Chris Anderson calls “the biggest company in history built on giving things away.” In his book
Free,
Anderson cites the many companies that offer free services, from Twitter to Facebook to MySpace to Yahoo’s photo-sharing service, Flickr, to e-mail services to Wikipedia to craigslist to news aggregators like Digg to the free shipping and returns offered by the online shoe retailer Zappos. By offering free services, Google has reinforced the notion that traditional media now wants to combat—that digital information and content should be free. “This is the Google Generation,” writes Anderson, “and they’ve grown up online simply assuming that everything digital is free.”
Many Valley companies have now copied Google’s 20 percent time, including the one Bill Campbell chairs, Intuit. Facebook offers subsidized housing for employees who live within a mile of the office, free meals, parking, gym memberships, laundry services, and a host of other benefits that mirror Google’s. “Google has raised the bar for everybody in the Valley,” said Campbell. “Everyone has to respond to the pressure that said, ‘If the engineer is good, we better hire him before Google does.”’
Of course, Google has borrowed as well as led. Stanford president and Google director John Hennessy, who once chaired his university’s computer science department, believes some Google ideas—such as the 20 percent time—can be traced to Stanford “and the academic world,” where Stanford graduate students like Jerry Yang and David Filo on their own time in the computer lab concocted the idea for Yahoo. Page and Brin have acknowledged that they took cues from the generous way Genentech treated its medical scientists, including a 401 (k) plan that matched up to 5 percent of their salaries; this was one of the reasons they recruited its CEO, Art Levinson, to join Google’s board. Google has a pet dog policy—allowing dogs to accompany owners to campus, providing an outdoor space, offering veterinary services—that Larry Page said was copied from Netscape.
Nor is Google unique. Netflix drives its employees hard but among other generous benefits, it lavishes unlimited vacation time on them. The e-commerce site Zappos encourages employees to point out any other employee who does outstanding work; that person then gets a fifty-dollar bonus from the company. Zappos also employs a full-time “life coach” who lets employees vent and serves as a corporate shrink.
Google has done something else that sets the best companies apart: it earned its customers’ trust. Google regularly ranks among the world’s most respected corporate brands. All companies endlessly talk about achieving brand status, but few attain it. They fail because they often confuse brand with name recognition; they don’t recognize that brand is a synonym for trust, which is not something that can be purchased with a rich marketing budget. Most consumers trust the information in the
New York Times,
the Think Differentness of Apple, the taste of Coca Cola, the safety of a Volvo, the bargain prices at Wal-Mart or Southwest Airlines. If we think of the Internet as a copying machine that produces free information, as one of the founders of
Wired
magazine, Kevin Kelly, wrote on his blog, then “how does one make money selling free copies?” Kelly’s answer: “When copies are free, you need to sell things which cannot be copied.” The first of these, he said, was “trust,” which is not duplicable. “Trust must be earned, over time.”
That trust is founded, in part, on a feeling that a company both serves noble ends and yields wealth for its shareholders. Recall the “Letter from the Founders” that was part of Google’s 2004 IPO, in which Page and Brin declared, “Google is not a conventional company. We do not intend to become one.” They said they would focus on users, not investors, and that they’d be concerned not with “quarterly market expectations” or paying dividends but rather with protecting Google’s “core values.” In a Q&A published as part of Google’s prospectus, Brin said the company’s aim was “greater than simply growing itself as large as it can be. I believe large, successful corporations ... have an obligation to apply some of those resources to at least try to solve or ameloriate a number of the world’s problems and ultimately to make the world a better place.” They would try to serve, as Eric Schmidt said, as “a moral force.” The combination of free services, coupled with principled stances like its refusal to allow advertisers to rent space on its home page, or its insistence on a customer service that communicates to users that Google wants to get them to their destination quickly and without trapping them, have helped convince consumers that these goals were genuine. When the tsunami struck Southeast Asia in December 2004, Google made a billboard on its home page to alert searchers to the various international relief efforts they might assist. In 2008, Google Flu Trends began tapping the company’s database to predict flu incidents well ahead of the health warnings issued by the Centers for Disease Control. “Who would have thought,” said Steven Rattner, then managing partner of the venture capital firm Quadrangle, “that a bunch of computer geeks would turn out to be the best marketers of the twenty-first century?” Little wonder, then, that Google in 2009, as in prior years, was again ranked by
Fortune
as one of the “World’s 50 Most Admired Companies.”
Bill Gates, like Page and Brin, has always believed a corporation should be concerned with looking over the treetops. Before Page and Brin were out of college, he refused to deliver dividends to Microsoft’s shareholders, believing this money should be reinvested. But unlike the Google founders, Gates thought a company like his had one obligation: to increase its wealth. He also once said that he would not begin to make large personal charitable gifts until he had stepped down as CEO and could concentrate on making intelligent choices. He changed his mind in part because his marriage to Melinda French Gates broadened his thinking and gave him a partner, because his parents’ generous charitable endeavors had an impact, and because age had mellowed him. Starting in 2000, long before Google established its own effort, the Gates Foundation has been extraordinarily generous and smart about leveraging its resources to affect real change. More recently, Gates has enlarged his view of a corporation’s role. In a speech to the 2007 graduating class at Harvard, and again in a January 2008 address to business and government leaders attending the World Economic Forum in Davos, Gates called for a “creative capitalism” that relies on market forces to address the needs of poor countries. In an interview with Robert Guth of the
Wall Street Journal,
Gates spoke of the shortcomings of capitalism. He said he was troubled that innovations in education or health care tend to skip over poor people, and he proposed that successful companies spin off businesses that have “a twin mission” of making money and “improving lives.”