Kitabı oku: «What’s Mine Is Yours»

For my nana, Evelyn Amdu

Rachel

For Bernie, Ruby & Mei

Roo

Introduction
What’s Mine Is Yours

In October 2007, designers from all over the world travelled to San Francisco to attend the annual industrial design conference. The city’s hotel rooms had been sold out for months. Joe Gebbia and Brian Chesky, old friends and graduates from the Rhode Island School of Design, were among the ten thousand people planning to attend. The classmates had recently moved into a big loft in South of Market, San Francisco, or SoMa, as it is known, to start a business. During a conversation Gebbia and Chesky had about making some quick money to help pay their rent, they asked themselves, ‘Why not rent our extra room and advertise it on the conference website?’ They did, and made close to $1,000 in just one week.

Chesky and Gebbia thought that people in their twenties would respond to their offer. Three people ended up staying: a male designer from India who read about the idea on a local design blog and who saw it as a great way to meet new people; a thirty-five-year-old woman from Boston who thought it was better value than a hotel; and a forty-five-year-old father of five from Utah. ‘It completely blew away our assumptions,’ Gebbia recalls. The friends were also surprised that they didn’t feel like they had strangers in their own home. ‘They are strangers until you have a conversation with them,’ Chesky explained.

Convinced they could start a business matching visitors who wanted rooms with locals who wanted to rent out extra space, Chesky and Gebbia, joined by Nathan Blecharczyk, a close friend and Web developer, built a simple website in early 2008. They initially thought of the idea ‘air beds for conferences’ solely for large events such as the Republican and Democratic conventions – where hotels were unavailable because they were sold out or unaffordable. ‘When Obama announced he was speaking in a 75,000-seat arena, and there were only 40,000 hotel rooms in Denver, the maths just really worked in our favour,’ Chesky recalls. Their website’s traffic grew. They appeared on CNN and in the pages of The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal. During the first few months of the launch, the trio were surprised by both the number and the mix of people wanting to rent out space as well as by the diversity of travellers – families, newlyweds, students, and even businessmen – willing to pay for a rented room.

Chesky, Blecharczyk and Gebbia realized that conferences were just a narrow slice of the larger market. On the whiteboard in their apartment, they drew a spectrum. On one side they wrote ‘hotels’ and on the other they scribbled rental listings such as craigslist, youth hostels, and nonmonetary travel exchanges such as Couch-Surfing that help people travel by creating a network of couches available to sleep on for free. In the middle was a big white space, an untapped market: people looking for reasonably priced accommodations with the added benefit of a local experience. They were, however, wary that this opportunity appeared so large and untapped for a logical reason – trust.

Was the act of attending the same event, whether a political rally, a music festival or a design conference the critical factor in building trust between strangers? Would people stay with one another if they just shared an interest such as photography? What about if they were alumni who had graduated from the same university? Was it possible to create an entirely open peer-to-peer marketplace for people to stay anywhere around the world? These were questions the three men chatted about for several months before agreeing that the answer could be ‘yes’ to all of the above. The success of other matchmaking services such as eBay indicated that trust could be built. By August 2008, Airbnb.com, their company’s website, was born. ‘The name came from the idea that with the Internet and a spare room, anyone can become an innkeeper,’ explains Blecharczyk.

In October 2010, Airbnb.com had over 210,000 registered users, with more than 28,000 properties across 8,122 cities in more than 157 countries. In the UK alone, there are 13,295 Airbnb members, with over 1,100 of them playing host in 1,362 properties. Just as eBay is for goods, the site is a diverse marketplace for spaces. Listings include everything from a ‘Charming studio in Bastille, Marais’ for $90 a night, to a ‘Harlem Haven Private Apartment, New York’ for $120, to an entire villa in the ‘Bophut Hills in Koh Samui, Thailand’ for $275 per night. Chesky marvels, ‘When we started I never thought people would be renting out tree houses, igloos, boats, villas and designer apartments.’

For the most part, the people and places are not vetted, inspected or interviewed by Airbnb. It’s up to users to determine if they want to host a guest or if they want to stay with someone based on kaleidoscopic photos of the property, detailed profiles and other users’ reviews. As the site has grown, in fact, the founders have removed rules they initially thought would be required. They took away the initial cap on charges of $300 because they realized that people were using the Airbnb community for far more than budget accommodation. Today you can find castles for rent in England for $3,000 a night. The only fixed rules on Airbnb are that the travellers must be able to ask the host questions before they book, and rooms can’t be a commodity, which excludes most hotels. ‘A Marriott in New York City and a Marriott in Ireland will look exactly the same,’ Chesky says. ‘And you don’t know what room you are getting or even what floor you are on. We are providing the opposite.’

Blecharczyk has since moved with his wife to a bigger apartment in Palo Alto. In January he made $1,200 from renting out their extra bedroom via Airbnb to three different individuals for a total of fifteen days in January 2010. When the founders launched, they didn’t consider that the service would enable people to use their spare space as an investment rather than it being a liability. Some users have an extra bedroom in an expensive neighbourhood, so why not rent it out every now and again? Angela Rutherford moved into a large two-bedroom loft in New York’s financial district. After having previously lived alone, she was hesitant about sharing her room with a full-time roommate. Instead, she decided to furnish the spare room and rent it out on Airbnb for about fifteen nights per month. ‘I can control when I’m sharing the space and when I’m not,’ she explained. ‘I use the extra cash to help pay off my credit card debt, and it covers about half the rent.’

The motivation for hosts using Airbnb is typically a blend of making extra money and meeting new people. The children of Jill Banounou from Denver went to college: ‘I have an empty room now and it’s interesting to have people every once in a while.’ Stephanie Sullivan from Pittsburgh needed extra money to help pay for the maintenance on her 110-year-old home and loves having people stay. Matthias Siebler from Boston used the money to pay for an entire trip to England so he could attend an old friend’s wedding. Sandra Bruce from Washington is ‘hosting to save for my retirement. I also like having the company.’ Some people have started their own business with the extra money; for others it has helped them keep their home.

In January 2010, the team received this email from a woman named Kendra Mae Tai, a host in New York City: ‘Hi Airbnb, I am not exaggerating when I tell that you literally saved us. My husband and I just married this past May after losing both of our jobs and our investments in the stock market crash last year. We slowly watched our savings dwindle to the point where we did not have enough money to pay our rent. At that point, I listed our apartment on your website and received so many requests. . You have given us the ability to keep our home and travel together and the peace of mind of knowing we can make it through this challenging time in our life. Thank you so much.’

Remarkably, out of the ten thousand completed trips to date there have been no reports of theft. Sometimes an apartment is not clean or someone does not show up, but these cases are rare. Chesky believes that a ‘trusted intermediary’ and secure payment system have a lot to do with this record. When making a booking, guests put the reservation on hold using a credit card or PayPal account. Hosts are not paid in full until twenty-four hours after a guest has checked in. Airbnb charges hosts a standard 3 percent service fee and travellers an additional 6 to 12 percent depending on the reservation price. Aside from turning Airbnb into a real business with a profitable revenue model that has been growing at more than 10 percent every month since they launched, the founders believe that some form of payment ‘puts both parties on the best behaviour and makes the whole process more reliable.’

When Chesky told his grandfather about the idea behind Airbnb, ‘It seemed totally normal to him. My parents had a different reaction. I could not figure out why at first.’ Chesky later realized that his parents grew up in the hotel generation, whereas his grandfather and his friends would stay on farms and in little houses during their travels. Airbnb is not very different from that experience. ‘We are not the modern invention, hotels are.’ Indeed, prior to the 1950s, staying with friends or friends of friends was a common way to travel. Airbnb is an old idea, being replicated and made relevant again through peer-to-peer networks and new technologies.

There is now an unbounded marketplace for efficient peer-to-peer exchanges between producer and consumer, seller and buyer, lender and borrower, and neighbour and neighbour. Online exchanges mimic the close ties once formed through face-to-face exchanges in villages, but on a much larger and unconfined scale. In other words, technology is reinventing old forms of trust. Chesky predicts, ‘The status quo is being replaced by a movement. Peer-to-peer is going to become the default way people exchange things, whether it is space, stuff, skills or services.’

The Rise of Collaboration

Over the past couple of years, we started to notice that stories and business examples like Airbnb weren’t unusual. At dinner parties, instead of bragging about their new Prius, friends boasted how they had given up their cars altogether by becoming ‘Zipsters’ (members of the car-sharing service Zipcar). More and more friends were selling stuff on craigslist and eBay; swapping books, DVDs and games on sites such as Swap and OurSwaps; and giving unwanted items away on Freecycle and ReUseIt. On a trip to Paris, we saw cyclists pedalling around on sleek-looking bikes with the word ‘Vélib’ (Paris’s bike-sharing scheme) on their crossbars. A friend in London told us about her new favourite Channel 4 programme called Land-share. And we kept hearing about the number of people joining Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) programmes or local co-ops. We saw stats and stories about online cooperation and the growth in virtual communities. Every day there are more than 3 million Flickr images uploaded; 700,000 new members joining Facebook; 50 million ‘Tweets’; and 900,000 blogs posted. There are twenty-three hours of YouTube videos uploaded every minute, the equivalent of Hollywood releasing more than 90,000 new full-length films into theatres each week.¹

‘Collaboration’ had become the buzzword of the day with economists, philosophers, business analysts, trend spotters, marketers and entrepreneurs – and appropriately so.

We stumbled on articles about sharing, bartering, lending or swapping, often with some kind of ‘co’ in the headlines, such as ‘Co-Housing for Gen X & Y’, ‘Co-working: Solo but Not Alone’, ‘Couch Surfing: This Isn’t Just About a Place to Crash’, ‘Can Community Co-Ops Revive Our Towns?’ ‘Social Networking for Communes’, ‘Global Collectivist Society Is Coming Online,’ ‘Living Together: Modern Answer to the Commune’, and ‘Governing the Commons’. Even science, social psychology and economic journals brimmed with popular articles about the self-organizing behaviours of ants, the ‘intelligence’ of swarming honeybees, and the cooperation of schools of fish and flocks of birds.

The more we examined these trends, the more convinced we were that all of these behaviours, personal stories, social theories and business examples pointed to an emerging socioeconomic groundswell; the old stigmatized C’s associated with coming together and ‘sharing’ – cooperatives, collectives, and communes – are being refreshed and reinvented into appealing and valuable forms of collaboration and community. We call this groundswell Collaborative Consumption.

The collaboration at the heart of Collaborative Consumption may be local and face-to-face, or it may use the Internet to connect, combine, form groups, and find something or someone to create ‘many to many’ peer-to-peer interactions. Simply put, people are sharing again with their community – be it an office, a neighbourhood, an apartment building, a school or a Facebook network. But the sharing and collaboration are happening in ways and at a scale never before possible, creating a culture and economy of what’s mine is yours.

Every day people are using Collaborative Consumption – traditional sharing, bartering, lending, trading, renting, gifting and swapping, redefined through technology and peer communities. Collaborative Consumption is enabling people to realize the enormous benefits of access to products and services over ownership, and at the same time save money, space and time; make new friends; and become active citizens once again. Social networks, smart grids and real-time technologies are also making it possible to leapfrog over outdated modes of hyper-consumption and create innovative systems based on shared usage such as bike or car sharing. These systems provide significant environmental benefits by increasing use efficiency, reducing waste, encouraging the development of better products, and mopping up the surplus created by over-production and – consumption.

In this book, we have organized the thousands of examples of Collaborative Consumption from around the world into three systems – product service systems, redistribution markets and collaborative lifestyles. Together these systems are reinventing not just what we consume but how we consume.

Although the examples of Collaborative Consumption range enormously in scale, maturity and purpose, they share similar underlying principles essential to making them work that we explore throughout this book – critical mass, idling capacity, belief in the commons and trust between strangers.

Collaborative Consumption is not a niche trend, and it’s not a reactionary blip to the 2008 global financial crisis. It’s a growing movement with millions of people participating from all corners of the world. Many of these participants may not even realize that they are part of this groundswell. To illustrate the explosive rise of Collaborative Consumption, let’s first look at the growth stats behind a few mainstream examples: Bike sharing is the fastest-growing form of transportation in the world,² with over 500,000 trips being made in the first six weeks of operation for London’s Barclays Cycle Hire. Zilok, a leader in the peer-to-peer rental market, has grown at a rate of around 25 percent since it was founded in October 2007.³ Two billion dollars worth of goods and services were exchanged through Bartercard, the world’s largest business-to-business bartering network in 2009, up by 20 percent from 2008.⁴ UK-founded Zopa, the first online peer-to-peer lending marketplace in the world, did more business in its fifth year, at £35.5 million (March 2009 to March 2010), than in the previous four years combined at £34.5 million. By October 2010, Zopa members had lent over £100 million between each other. Freecycle, a worldwide online registry that circulates free items for reuse or recycling, has more than 5.7 million members across more than eighty-five countries. More than twelve thousand items are ‘gifted’ every day through the network.⁵ U-Exchange, one of the most successful of all swap sites, saw a 70 percent increase in new members in 2008, and the membership of the trading site Swap grew tenfold in 2009 over the previous year. On thredUP, a clothing exchange for children’s clothes, approximately twelve thousand items were exchanged within the first eight days of launching in April 2010. Landshare, a site that connects gardenless would-be growers with unused spare land, has more than 55,000 members across the UK today. CouchSurfing, a global website that connects travellers with locals in more than 235 countries and territories, is currently the most visited ‘hospitality service’ on the Internet.⁶ In the United States, there are more than 2,50 °CSA schemes – where people pay a sum of money at the beginning of the year to a local farmer who will deliver a weekly box of fresh produce throughout the growing season – compared with only 1 in 1985. In the UK, there are more than 100,000 people on the waiting list for an allotment (a plot of land that can be rented by an individual for growing fruits and vegetables) and in some parts of London the wait is up to forty years.⁷ In the midst of the global financial crisis, when the federal government was bailing out the ‘Big Three’ car companies, car-sharing membership increased by 51.5 percent in the United States.⁸ By 2015, it is estimated that 4.4 million people in North America and 5.5 million in Europe will belong to services like the one from Zipcar, whose membership alone more than tripled in 2009.⁹ UK-based WhipCar, the first neighbour-to-neighbour car-sharing service had over 1,000 owners accepting bookings within the first six months of launch. We could go on. Collaborative Consumption is a snowball idea, one with enough heft to keep gathering momentum and enough adhesion to keep growing bigger.

Many of the companies we explore in this book are already profitable or have growing revenue models. The more established companies are making hundreds of millions in revenue (Netflix made $359.6 million and Zipcar $130 million in 2009), while others like SolarCity and Swap are just starting to turn a profit. Specific sectors of Collaborative Consumption are predicted to experience phenomenal growth over the next five years. The peer-to-peer social lending market led by the likes of Zopa and Lending Club is estimated to soar by 66 percent to reach $5 billion by the end of 2013.¹⁰ The consumer peer-to-peer rental market for everything from drills to cameras is estimated to be a $26 billion market sector. The swap market just for used children’s clothing (0 to 13 years) is estimated to be between $1 billion and $3 billion in the United States alone.¹¹ Car sharing or per hour car rental is predicted to become a $12.5 billion industry. Even organizations such as CouchSurfing and Freecycle that were set up for a purpose not explicitly about profitability are helping create consumer acceptance and paving the way for similar businesses with a revenue model. CouchSurfing, a nonprofit organization, created the space for the likes of Airbnb and CrashPadder. And it’s not just the companies making money. As The Economist noted, individuals involved in Collaborative Consumption are becoming ‘microentrepreneurs.’¹² Some people are making a little money on the side and others are making significant income from peer rental of products and spaces that would otherwise be sitting unused and idle. The average New Yorker participating in Airbnb is making $1,600 per month. And that is just the average. Renters on Zilok are making over $1,000 a year from renting out just one item such as a camera or bike. It is estimated that an owner of a saloon car such as a Camry can make over $6,250 per year through peer-to-peer car rental sites such as RelayRides, Gettaround and Whipcar by renting the car for twenty hours a week. Some owners, such as ‘Dave,’ a twenty-six-year-old designer, are using Whipcar to help pay for general living costs. Others, such as sixty-six-year-old ‘Maureen’, hardly use their car and use the extra rental money to pay for holidays.

People may throw an ‘out of necessity’ brick at Collaborative Consumption, claiming that it will slow down or crumble when the economy fully recovers and prosperity returns. But not only is Collaborative Consumption driven by consumer motivations that extend far deeper than cost savings, the habits started to stick and spread before the financial collapse of 2008. Economic necessity has just made people more open to new ways of accessing what they need and how to go about getting it.

When the great recession hit in 2008, some pundits and economists heralded the end of consumerism, while some suggested that consumers needed to be prodded to shop again. Either way, they assumed that the traditional model of consumerism, the one in which we buy products, use them, throw them away and then buy more, would continue, even if at a hobbled rate. While the ‘spend more, consume more’ way out may be a short-term fix, it is neither sustainable nor healthy.

While the rampant and unregulated financial system led to investors losing millions in Ponzi schemes, hedge funds, insurance companies and even savings banks, everyday people pursuing the supposed American dream felt the worst impact. In all corners of the world, millions lost their homes, their jobs, their buying power and their confidence. But within weeks of the crash, there were signs of a new and increasing consumer awareness, tinged with anger. We have been living in a society that for more than fifty years has encouraged us to live beyond our means, both financial and ecological. As Thomas Friedman wrote in a New York Times op-ed, ‘2008 was when we hit the wall – when Mother Nature and the market both said: “No more.”’ While the world awaits a new big idea to reinvigorate and rebalance our economy, we believe the transformation will start to come from consumers themselves.

The convergence of social networks, a renewed belief in the importance of community, pressing environmental concerns and cost consciousness are moving us away from top-heavy, centralized and controlled forms of consumerism towards one of sharing, aggregation, openness and cooperation.

To build on an idea Charles Leadbeater discussed in his book We Think, in the twentieth century of hyper-consumption we were defined by credit, advertising and what we owned; in the twenty-first century of Collaborative Consumption we will be defined by reputation, by community, and by what we can access and how we share and what we give away.¹³

The phenomenon of sharing via increasingly ubiquitous cyber peer-to-peer communities such as Linux, Wikipedia, Flickr, Digg and YouTube is by now a familiar story. Collaborative Consumption is rooted in the technologies and behaviours of online social networks. These digital interactions have helped us experience the concept that cooperation does not need to come at the expense of our individualism, opening us up to innate behaviours that make it fun and second nature to share. Indeed, we believe people will look back and recognize that Collaborative Consumption started online – by posting comments and sharing files, code, photos, videos and knowledge. And now we have reached a powerful inflection point, where we are starting to apply the same collaborative principles and sharing behaviours to other physical areas of our everyday lives. From morning commutes to co-working spaces to the way we borrow and lend money to the way fashion is designed, different areas of our lives are being created and consumed in collaborative ways.

This book does not posit that we need to pick between owning or sharing. In the future, most of us will have our feet in both camps, just as successful business models such as Airbnb may become a hybrid of both traditional commerce and collaboration. Collaborative Consumption will sit side-by-side and eventually may go head-to-head with the old consumerist model, much as blogs such as the Huffington Post now compete with hundred-plus-year-old newspapers such as The New York Times. But in the same way that the one-way flow of information from the media is over, we are reaching the close of a pure one-way consumerist culture based on just owning more and more stuff. ‘Sharing is to ownership what the iPod is to the eight track, what the solar panel is to the coal mine. Sharing is clean, crisp, urbane, postmodern; owning is dull, selfish, timid, backward,’ New York Times journalist Mark Levine commented recently.¹⁴

Concepts and connotations of ‘sharing’, ‘collectivism’ and ‘communalism’ need to be updated. In his classic novel Through the Looking-Glass, Lewis Carroll writes, ‘“When I use a word,” Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone, “it means just what I choose it to mean – neither more nor less.” “The question is,” said Alice, “whether you can make words mean so many different things.” “The question is,” said Humpty Dumpty, “which is to be master – that’s all”.’¹⁵ Meanings of words can change as our cultural acceptance of ideas is reframed.¹⁶ Hotels don’t call their business ‘bed sharing’ for good reasons, and as Jonathan Zittrain, a professor of law at Harvard University, says, craigslist does not call its ride-sharing board ‘hitchhiking.’

Collaborative Consumption is not asking people to share nicely in the sandbox. On the contrary, it puts a system in place where people can share resources without forfeiting cherished personal freedoms or sacrificing their lifestyle. A distinguished political scientist who shares this view is seventy-six-year-old Indiana University professor Elinor Ostrom. In October 2009, while we were writing this book, she won the Nobel Memorial Prize in Economic Sciences, along with Oliver E. Williamson. Ostrom is the first person ever to win the award with a proven theory on the efficiency of commons-based societies and how they work. Michael Spence, a senior fellow at the Hoover Institution, commented shortly after Ostrom won the prize that her work demonstrates that ‘economics is not really fundamentally about markets, but about resource allocation and distribution problems.’¹⁷ From alpine grazing meadows in Switzerland to irrigation canals in Spain to forests in Japan, Professor Ostrom has spent her life studying commonly managed resources and probing how they succeed or fail. Her research has demonstrated that even in capitalist societies, if simple rules are applied, a self-organized commons can work. Individuals will cooperate to act in the common good.

Perhaps what is most exciting about Collaborative Consumption is that it fulfils the hardened expectations on both sides of the socialist and capitalist ideological spectrum without being an ideology in itself. It demands no rigid dogma. There are, of course, limits to the system, specifically situations where people simply won’t and can’t give up on individual ownership or doing things by themselves. But this rigidity, too, could shift.

Although this book is a good-news book about promising solutions and long-term positive change, we start out by showing how the system of consumerism that we live with today – the system that is now our collective habit – was manufactured. Entire books have been written on this subject, and it is not our goal to provide another detailed history or critique of the rise of consumerism in the twentieth century. Ultimately, we are much more interested in the future. But if we can look back and deconstruct what got us on what cultural critic Juliet Schor calls the consumer escalator, ‘ever moving upward’, we can then look forward to figuring out how to get off it.¹⁸