Yahoo buying Tumblr? It's just the start

The data turf war.

When a small impactful start-up is acquired by a sizeable market player, the inevitable questions of why and what for ensue. Yahoo did this on Monday when it announced the acquisition of Tumblr, for a staggering $1.1bn. The microblogging site, whilst a keen media player, has only posted revenues of $13m. So with motivations unlikely to be financial, this leaves us to look at Tumblr’s other key asset: Customers - which = DATA.

Data has quickly become the currency of the internet and the marriage of both social and interest data is a very powerful commodity. Being able to merge and stitch together data is something all organisations are increasingly looking for, as it brings genuine insight into audiences and their respective preferences. This level of understanding enables brands to market in a much more relevant and scaled fashion, something that can bring about an entire change in the marketing department's  relationship to both their internal and external customer. So, in Yahoo's case, its recent focus on becoming a lifestyle business must be data driven and it’s this insight that they stand to gain through Tumblr.

Whilst this is a clear turning point in the direction of Yahoo’s business strategy, the wider impact is much more interesting with the acknowledgement that data, and the insight it generates, can transform organisations. It’s not the first time that this data land-grab has occurred. Let us not forget when Facebook bought Instagram for a cool billion dollars, with only 13 employees, Google acquired Wildfire, and Salesforce are integrating Buddymedia; the motivation was the same - access to data to effectively target consumers based on their interests, eliminating the need for clusterbomb marketing.

Monetising and creating the system to mine data for insight, is the direction in which marketing and media is headed. Today, online media has become a commodity and the data held on it is now the currency to trade. This is a powerful position for social currency traders and platform enablers, as they can unlock the potential held within brands. So applying a revenue model that intelligently connects content and the consumer, with a brand they want to be engaged with, at their convenience, is an impactful entity and one that large media players are moving towards.

Where the internet of old had more of a database function, the passage of time has shown that it is maturing into a playground where data can be readily shared and responded too. Gone are the days when content was consumed in a silo. Now it’s shared, openly and discussed at length with any numbers of audiences, globally. These conversations, coupled with a more connected approach to life and advances in technology have created a consumer shift, so powerful that brands need to realign their business thinking. Data means knowledge and that, complemented with a dynamic brand proposition can be transformational.

It will be interesting to see how Yahoo works with Tumblr to reposition itself over the coming months. Clearly Tumblr’s power lies within the insight it can provide and if this data is used wisely, we could see Yahoo returning to 'darling' status once more. Don't be swayed by city commentators reflecting on the tech sector massacre in 2000, because the real success story here is not, as you might expect, the start-ups getting acquired or even the big players realising they need more than scale and brand loyalty to succeed; it’s arguably the wider tech industry. Where once software ruled; industry is now moving towards a more customer centric view of the world, using data to intelligently understand audiences and their needs in a super-fast, connected planet. This programmatic shift is one that is arguably more impactful and will drive business to the next level.

Rupert Staines is European Managing Director at RadiumOne

Marissa Mayer. Photograph: Getty Images

Rupert Staines is European Managing Director at RadiumOne

Photo: Getty
Show Hide image

The Tories play Game of Thrones while the White Walkers from Brussels advance

The whole premise of the show is a pretty good metaphor for the current state of British politics.

If you’re a fan of asking “who’s that, then?” and “is that the one who killed the other one’s brother?”, I bring great news. Game of Thrones is back for a seventh series. Its vast assortment of characters was hard enough to keep track of before half of them got makeovers. But now the new Queen Cersei has reacted to the arrival of the long winter by investing heavily in the kind of leather ball gowns sold by goth shops in Camden, and Euron Greyjoy, once a fairly bland sailor, has come back as a Halloween costume version of Pacey from Dawson’s Creek, all eyeliner and epaulettes.

The show’s reliance on British character actors is the only thing keeping me vaguely on top of the cast list: what’s Diana Rigg up to these days in Highgarden? And what about that guy who was in Downton Abbey that time, who now has the scaly arms? (Luckily, the next thing I watched after the Game of Thrones series premiere was the first two episodes of the revived Twin Peaks, which put my confusion into perspective. There, Agent Cooper spent most of his time talking to a pulsating bladder attached to one of those fake trees you get from Ikea when your landlord won’t let you have real plants.)

The day-to-day business of Game of Thrones has always been power – answering the question of who will sit on the Iron Throne, forged by Aegon the Conqueror from the swords of his defeated enemies. But its backdrop is a far bigger threat: the arrival of a winter that will last many years, and the invasion of an army of the undead.

That might seem like an unkind way to think about Michel Barnier and his fellow Brexit negotiators – inexorably marching towards us, briefing papers in hand, while Liam Fox frantically rings a bell at the entrance to the Channel Tunnel – but nonetheless, the whole premise of Game of Thrones is a pretty good metaphor for the current state of British politics.

The current internal Conservative struggle for power might be vicious but it is at least familiar to its contestants; they know which weapons to deploy, which alliances are vital, who owes them a favour. Meanwhile, the true challenge facing every one of them is too frightening to contemplate.

In 2013, this magazine celebrated the early success of the show with a cover depicting one of our terrifying painted mash-ups: “The Tory Game of Thrones.” Our casting has been strangely vindicated. George Osborne was our Jaime Lannister – once the kind of uncomplicated bastard who would push a child out of a window but now largely the purveyor of waspish remarks about other, worse characters. Our Cersei was Theresa May, who spent the early seasons of The Cameron Era in a highly visible but underwritten role. Now, she has just seized power, only to discover herself beset by enemies on all sides. (Plus, Jeremy Corbyn as the High Sparrow would quite like her to walk penitently through the streets while onlookers cry “shame!”)

Michael Gove was our Tyrion Lannister, the kind of man who would shoot his own father while the guy was on the loo (or run a rival’s leadership campaign only to detonate it at the last minute). Jeremy Hunt was Jon Snow, slain by the brotherhood of the Night Shift at A&E, only in this case still waiting for resurrection.

The comparison falls down a bit at Boris Johnson as Daenerys Targaryen, as the former London mayor has not, to my knowledge, ever married a horse lord or hired an army of eunuchs, but it feels like the kind of thing he might do.

We didn’t have David Davis on there – hated by the old king, David Camareon, he was at the time banished to the back benches. Let’s retrospectively appoint him Euron Greyjoy, making a suspiciously seductive offer to Queen Cersei. (Philip Hammond is Gendry, in that most of the country can’t remember who he is but feel he might turn out to be important later.)

That lengthy list shows how Conservative infighting suffers from the same problem that the Game of Thrones screenwriters wrestle with: there are so many characters, and moving the pieces round the board takes up so much time and energy, that we’re in danger of forgetting why it matters who wins. In the books, there is more space to expound on the politics. George R R Martin once said that he came away from The Lord of The Rings asking: “What was Aragorn’s tax policy?” (The author added: “And what about all these orcs? By the end of the war, Sauron is gone but all of the orcs aren’t gone – they’re in the mountains. Did Aragorn pursue a policy of systematic genocide and kill them? Even the little baby orcs, in their little orc cradles?”)

Martin’s fantasy vision also feels relevant to the Tories because its power struggles aren’t about an “endless series of dark lords and their evil minions who are all very ugly and wear black clothes”. Instead, everyone is flawed. In Westeros, as in the Conservative Party, it can be difficult to decide who you want to triumph. Sure, Daenerys might seem enlightened, but she watched her brother have molten gold poured down his throat; plucky Arya Stark might tip over from adorable assassin into full-blown psychopath. Similarly, it’s hard to get worked up about the accusation that Philip Hammond said that driving a train was so easy “even a woman” could do it, when David Davis marked his last leadership campaign by posing alongside women in tight T-shirts reading “It’s DD for me”.

The only big difference from the show is that in real life I have sympathy for Barnier and the White Walkers of Brussels. Still, maybe it will turn out that the undead of Game of Thrones are tired of the Seven Kingdoms throwing their weight around and are only marching south to demand money before negotiating a trade deal? That’s the kind of plot twist we’re all waiting for.

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.

This article first appeared in the 20 July 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The new world disorder