labeled as media or entertainment companies, which primarily produce or license original content and are not directly economically and infrastructurally accessible to third parties. Video producers – whether big or small – cannot freely upload their clips to Netflix; the New York Times primarily uses its own website and apps to distribute its own news content; and The Walt Disney Company uses its vast library of intellectual property – from Mickey Mouse to Marvel superheroes – across its theme parks, TV stations, and digital outlets.
Unlike media companies, platforms give way to what business scholars call multisided markets, acting as “matchmakers” by connecting consumers or “end-users,” a wide variety of businesses (advertisers, content creators, etc.), governments, and nonprofits (Evans & Schmalensee, 2016). Each group of actors, including end-users, represents a “side” in the platform market (Gawer & Cusumano, 2002; Rochet & Tirole, 2003).
Implicit in this economic perspective is the assumption that a platform is necessarily a for-profit institution. Of course, there are plenty of platforms that are not profit-oriented; this includes those owned and operated by governments, co-ops, nonprofits or individuals that are not inevitably based on creating economic value (Sandoval, 2020; Scholz, 2017). However, by virtue of their market valuation, unprecedented profits, large userbase, and transnational footprint, platform companies are widely considered to be “digitally dominant” (Moore & Tambini, 2018). Particularly in the media sector, commercial platforms play a significant role. For this reason, in the remainder of this book we assume platforms to be for-profit businesses. We are primarily interested in the following companies: Google, Apple, Facebook, Amazon, ByteDance, Spotify, and Tencent. And to be even more precise, we pay particular attention to the specific platforms operated by these companies, such as Apple’s and Google’s app stores, Amazon’s Twitch, and Google’s YouTube, as well as the digital advertising ecosystems of Google and Facebook, the social networking and connectivity apps of Facebook (Instagram, Messenger), Tencent (WeChat), and ByteDance (Douyin/TikTok), and the cloud hosting services provided by Amazon, Microsoft, and Google.4
Next to the lens of platforms as markets, software and business studies scholars have theorized the unique status of platforms as infrastructures through the notion of “platform boundaries” (Gawer, 2020; Helmond et al., 2019). In line with their for-profit mandate, platform companies invariably seek growth and can do so by opening up the boundaries of their infrastructures. To that end, they have to “resource” external producers by providing tools, allowing for technological integration and, in some cases, the marketing and monetization of content (Eaton et al., 2015; Ghazawneh & Henfridsson, 2013). By providing outsiders access to their data infrastructure, via plug-ins, for example, platform companies enable external producers to extend a platform’s functionality far beyond its own boundaries and into wider web and app ecosystems (Helmond, 2015; Nieborg & Helmond, 2019). At the same time, to retain control over what is distributed and by whom, platform boundaries need to be “secured” (Ghazawneh & Henfridsson, 2013). Platform companies do this through a variety of governance strategies, which we conceptualize in Chapter 4 as regulation, curation, and moderation.
Platformization involves not only what we call institutional shifts in markets, infrastructures, and governance, but also changes in the practices of labor, creativity, and democracy. Platforms allow cultural workers to find new avenues to audiences and visibility. Yet, like traditional labor markets in the cultural industries, labor in platform markets is also characterized by precarity and inequalities in terms of gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity, and more (Christian et al., 2020; Gerrard & Thornham, 2020; Patel, 2020). Moreover, while platforms regularly generate new genres and engender diverse business models, it is also clear that they constrain the creative process in various ways – not the least of which is through the filtering of content and by privileging particular forms of cultural expression. Finally, platformization opens up new spaces for contestation and cultural diversity, but simultaneously exacerbates problems of discrimination, hate speech, and disinformation – all of which undermine democratic politics.
A main contribution of this book is to show how these shifts, continuities, and tensions in cultural practices are intricately entangled with changes in the institutional relations of cultural production. The chapter’s opening example illuminated some of these entanglements. For instance, the abrupt modifications in YouTube’s advertising policies and monetization programs directly impacted creators’ visibility and, consequently, revenue. Here, we can see how cultural producers’ dependence on platforms leaves them at the mercy of the latter’s decision-making, thus enhancing the precarity of their labor. At the same time, the Adpocalypse revealed laborers’ expressions of agency, particularly when they felt incentivized to develop alternative means of content distribution and revenue generation through sponsorship deals or subscriptions. More broadly, the Adpocalypse showed the complex balance cultural producers have to maintain on platforms between self-expression, audience interests, advertiser needs, and platform governance. How exactly the balance between these different forces is organized deeply affects the nature of cultural content and the space for creative expression. And directly related to this is the balancing act that touches on crucial dimensions of democratic politics by shaping public processes of identity construction and representation.
Cultural Producers and Other Complementors
As the preceding section suggests, platformization is not merely a top-down process dictated by platforms. It is also steered and driven by the tactics of cultural producers, both individually and in networked formations. The Adpocalypse illustrates how creators were able to contest platform policies by publicly and collectively voicing their discontent, seeking alternative forms of income, or simply abandoning the platform altogether. Within platform ecosystems such as YouTube’s, different stakeholders – cultural producers, advertisers, and data intermediaries, among others – struggle to defend or promote their interests, pushing the platform operator – Google in this case – to adapt its infrastructures and governance framework accordingly.
Examining these kinds of interactions, the relationships that are most relevant to us are those between platform companies, cultural producers, advertisers, intermediaries, and the billions of end-users who consume, share, and engage with cultural products through platforms. We will define these actors in relational terms, allowing us to explore how platform power is challenged and negotiated, and how cultural producers gain agency in relation to platforms. Developing such a relational perspective, this section starts by defining cultural producers and cultural industries, followed by introducing other stakeholders. After that, we will look at the differences between cultural industries and between geographic regions.
Building on David Hesmondhalgh’s (2019: 15) definition of cultural industries, we focus on the “industrial production and circulation of texts.” Traditionally, these industries include, among others, broadcasting, film, music, print publishing, games, and advertising. The industrial mode of cultural production is often distinguished from “vernacular creativity,” which refers to the “everyday practices of material and symbolic creativity” (Burgess, 2007: iii). As the opening example of YouTube creators illustrates, the boundary between industrial and vernacular forms of cultural production is often fluid and difficult to draw on platforms. We will return to this thorny analytical issue at the end of this section.
Cultural producer is a similarly fraught term, but we use it to refer to the broad range of actors and organizations engaged in the creation, distribution, marketing, and monetization of symbolic artefacts (Bourdieu, 1984). An individual can be a cultural producer, but so, too, can traditional, or what we will hereafter refer to as “legacy,” institutions, such as newspapers, film and television producers, record labels, and game publishers. We are mindful of the fact that each of these industry segments has its own histories and institutional practices (Benson & Hallin, 2007; Herbert et al., 2020; Miège, 2011; Holt & Perren, 2011). Traditionally, individual cultural producers
