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A Tale of Two Press Releasesby Mitch Stone, Editor/Publisher It was the best of times, and it was the best of times. -- Charles Dickens (corrupted) Good morning, class, and welcome to Microsoft Literature 101. Today, we will be examining a short story from the points of view of both the protagonist and the antagonist, and considering how these two characters in a story react to the same events, and what this may reveal about their personalities. The protagonist in our narrative is a small software company called SCO, otherwise known as the Santa Cruz Operation. The antagonist is the software giant, Microsoft. First, we should sketch out the storyline. SCO sells a version of the Unix operating system, a product they purchased from Novell, Inc. in 1995. Novell had acquired it from AT&T, the fathers of Unix, two years earlier. Looking further back to 1980, we find Microsoft developing a commercial version of Unix called Xenix under license from AT&T. Actually, Microsoft didn't develop Xenix, though they did obtain a license from AT&T to do so -- and subcontracted the actual coding to SCO. But we digress. In 1987 Microsoft became worried that AT&T's newly-developed personal computer version of Unix might not run software applications originally written to run under Microsoft Xenix, so they asked AT&T to add some Xenix code to AT&T Unix in order to assure future compatibility. A deal was struck between the companies: AT&T agreed to include the Microsoft code, and to pay Microsoft a royalty for its use. Novell, and then SCO, inherited these terms when they purchased AT&T Unix. By the time SCO acquired it, the archaic Xenix code had more than outlived its technical usefulness. SCO announced its desire to be discharged from the obligation of including it with their products, and a deliverance from the liability of paying royalties to Microsoft for distributing it. And with the release of Windows NT, a product aimed squarely at the Unix market, SCO felt that Microsoft should not be meddling directly in the products of a competitor, let alone be permitted to extract a royalty for doing so. In September of 1996, SCO formally requested that Microsoft release them from the terms of the old contract. In its letter to Microsoft, SCO suggested that including the code was "no longer appropriate or commercially desirable," and that continuing to do so "would impose unnecessary cost, lower reliability, add complexity and extend the development time for any Unix operating system for modern Intel processors. Overall, the effect would be to reduce SCO's ability to compete in the marketplace with the resulting product." Not surprisingly, Microsoft's reply to it competitor's plea was "no." SCO took a complaint to the European Commission, enforcer of European Union competition regulations, in January 1997, while also seeking relief from the antitrust division of the U.S. Department of Justice. Four months later, the Commission ruled that an indelible agreement tying Microsoft to SCO's products violated European laws by restraining advances in technology and hindering SCO's competitiveness, particularly against Microsoft's rival product, Windows NT. In its statement, the European Commission declared that SCO could "now design its future Unix products as it wishes, is not obliged to use any Microsoft intellectual property in future Unix products, and has the option ... to use the Microsoft IP involved at a set royalty." With a single stroke, the European Commission had lifted a formidable technological and fiscal burden from SCO. In the face of this finding, Microsoft relented, settling with SCO and canceling a scheduled hearing before the EC. A company liberated from an unusual and onerous commitment, SCO was jubilant. And why not? It was a clear victory for our protagonists. "Now that we are legally able to remove the outdated Microsoft code from both our ... products we will do so as soon as possible," said Doug Michels, SCO's executive vice president and chief technical officer in a press release. "We are excited about the positive impact the lifting of this burden will have on SCO." Now, for the antagonist's view of these events. Microsoft's simultaneous press release trumpets, "the [European] Commission's ... decision ... upholds Microsoft's right to receive royalty payments from SCO if software code developed by Microsoft is used in SCO's Unix products," and insists, rather oddly, that the old Unix code SCO went to such lengths to be free of, "continues to play an important role in SCO's OpenServer Unix product." How could this be, in the face of the fact that SCO expressed such blessed relief at the ability to finally consign this code to the bit bucket? At no point within this press release does Microsoft directly acknowledge the European Commission's ruling against them. Instead, they attempt to cloud the issue, stating that "the European Commission rejected SCO's request for further action and approved our request to close the file on this case," though it is never clear what further action SCO had requested. We also learn of Microsoft's 1988 award from UnixWorld Magazine, a highly relevant tidbit. Why is it so important for Microsoft to play these public relations games over an otherwise obscure contest involving mere fragments of Unix code? This entire affair is scarcely a matter of banner headlines, and the outcome, though important in some quarters, is unlikely to have a major impact on the future of computing. So why does Microsoft trouble themselves with these nearly farcical face-saving efforts? The apparent answer: Consistency. In examining Microsoft's public reaction to this and other similar events, a somewhat tortured company personality profile begins to emerge. When faced with criticism, they lash out at the critics. When faced with difficult questions, they dismiss the questioner. When accused of misdeeds, they produce baroque and fantastical explanations. When faced with a loss, they unilaterally declare victory. This consistent pattern of self-aggrandizement, misdirection, doublespeak and deception evokes the impression of a company that cannot contend with the reality, or even the perception, of error. They evidently have come to view themselves as infallible, and cannot comprehend why everyone else does not see them in precisely the same light. Microsoft appears to have constructed a kind of alternate universe for itself, where Microsoft never loses, and all are eternally indebted to their vast wisdom and largess. Consistency, observed Oscar Wilde, is the last refuge of the unimaginative. But at what point, we must ask ourselves, do efforts to delude others spring less from a lack of imagination and more nearly from a pathological variety of self-deception? Alas, we have run out of time, and we must leave the class to contemplate this troubling literary question on its own. But consider it well -- this material is almost certain to appear on the final exam. Published: 25 November 1997 |
In a manner that would have left the robber barons
of the late 19th century gaping in absolute awe, Microsoft
is approaching something unprecedented: a monopoly that
could well own the choke points of tomorrow's commerce and
communications. DAN GILLMOR, San Jose Mercury
News Computing Editor |
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