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Like it or not, the Like button has changed the world

Like it or not, the Like button has changed the world

Japan Today18-05-2025

This image provided by BCG shows a sketch by Bob Goodson that included a crude concept of what would become the Like button on May 18, 2005. (BCG via AP)
By MICHAEL LIEDTKE
The internet wouldn't be the same without the Like button, the thumbs-up icon that Facebook and other online services turned into digital catnip.
Like it or not, the button has served as a creative catalyst, a dopamine delivery system and an emotional battering ram. It also became an international tourist attraction after Facebook plastered the symbol on a giant sign that stood outside its Silicon Valley headquarters until the company rebranded itself as Meta Platforms in 2021.
A new book, 'Like: The Button That Changed The World," delves into the convoluted story behind a symbol that's become both the manna and bane of a digitally driven society.
It's a tale that traces back to gladiator battles for survival during the Roman Empire before fast-forwarding to the early 21st century when technology trailblazers such as Yelp co-founder Russ Simmons, Twitter co-founder Biz Stone, PayPal co-founder Max Levchin, YouTube co-founder Steve Chen, and Gmail inventor Paul Buchheit were experimenting with different ways of using the currency of recognition to prod people to post compelling content online for free.
As part of that noodling, a Yelp employee named Bob Goodson sat down on May 18, 2005, and drew a crude sketch of thumbs up and thumbs down gestures as a way for people to express their opinions about restaurant reviews posted on the site. Yelp passed on adopting Goodson's suggested symbol and, instead, adopted the 'useful,' 'funny' and 'cool' buttons conceived by Simmons. But the discovery of that old sketch inspired Goodson to team up with Martin Reeves to explore how the Like button came to be in their new book.
'It's something simple and also elegant because the Like button says, 'I like you, I like your content. And I am like you. I like you because I am like you, I am part of your tribe,' ' Reeves said during an interview with The Associated Press. 'But it's very hard to answer the simple question, 'Well, who invented the Like button?' '
Although Facebook is the main reason the Like button became so ubiquitous, the company didn't invent it and almost discarded it as drivel. It took Facebook nearly two years to overcome the staunch resistance by CEO Mark Zuckerberg before finally introducing the symbol on its service on February 9, 2009 — five years after the social network's creation in a Harvard University dorm room.
As happens with many innovations, the Like button was born out of necessity but it wasn't the brainchild of a single person. The concept percolated for more than a decade in Silicon Valley before Facebook finally embraced it.
'Innovation is often social and Silicon Valley was the right place for all this to happen because it has a culture of meetups, although it's less so now,' Reeves said. 'Everyone was getting together to talk about what they were working on at that time and it turned out a lot of them were working on the same stuff.'
The effort to create a simple mechanism to digitally express approval or dismay sprouted from a wellspring of online services such as Yelp and YouTube whose success would hinge on their ability to post commentary or video that would help make their sites even more popular without forcing them to spend a lot of money for content. That effort required a feedback loop that wouldn't require a lot of hoops to navigate.
And when Goodson was noodling around with his thumbs-up and thumbs-down gesture, it didn't come out of a vacuum. Those techniques of signaling approval and disapproval had been ushered into the 21st century zeitgeist by the Academy Award-winning movie, 'Gladiator,' where Emperor Commodus — portrayed by actor Joaquin Phoenix — used the gestures to either spare or slay combatants in the arena.
But the positive feelings conjured by a thumbs up date even further back in popular culture, thanks to the 1950s-era character Fonzie played by Henry Winkler in the top-rated 1970s TV series, 'Happy Days.' The gesture later became a way of expressing delight with a program via a remote control button for the digital video recorders made by TiVO during the early 2000s. Around the same time, Hot or Not — a site that solicited feedback on the looks of people who shared photos of themselves — began playing around with ideas that helped inspire the Like button, based on the book's research.
Others that contributed to the pool of helpful ideas included the pioneering news service Digg, the blogging platform Xanga, YouTube and another early video site, Vimeo.
But Facebook unquestionably turned the Like button into a universally understood symbol, while also profiting the most from its entrance into the mainstream. And it almost didn't happen.
By 2007, Facebook engineers had been tinkering with a Like button, but Zuckerberg opposed it because he feared the social network was already getting too cluttered and, Reeves said, 'he didn't actually want to do something that would be seen as trivial, that would cheapen the service.'
But FriendFeed, a rival social network created by Buchheit and now OpenAI Chairman Bret Taylor, had no such qualms, and unveiled its own Like button in October 2007.
But the button wasn't successful enough to keep the lights on at FriendFeed, and the service ended up being acquired by Facebook. By the time that deal was completed, Facebook had already introduced a Like button — only after Zuckerberg rebuffed the original idea of calling it an Awesome button 'because nothing is more awesome than awesome,' according to the book's research.
Once Zuckerberg relented, Facebook quickly saw that the Like button not only helped keep its audience engaged on its social network but also made it easier to divine people's individual interests and gather the insights required to sell the targeted advertising that accounted for most of Meta Platform's $165 billion in revenue last year. The button's success encouraged Facebook to take things even further by allowing other digital services to ingrain it into their feedback loops and then, in 2016, added six more types of emotions — 'love,' 'care,' 'haha,' 'wow,' 'sad,' and 'angry.'
Facebook hasn't publicly disclosed how many responses it has accumulated from the Like button and its other related options, but Levchin told the book's authors that he believes the company has probably logged trillions of them. 'What content is liked by humans...is probably one of the singularly most valuable things on the internet,' Levchin said in the book.
The Like button also has created an epidemic of emotional problems, especially among adolescents, who feel forlorn if their posts are ignored and narcissists whose egos feast on the positive feedback. Reeves views those issues as part of the unintentional consequences that inevitably happen because 'if you can't even predict the beneficial effects of a technological innovation how could you possibly forecast the side effects and the interventions?'
Even so, Reeves believes the Like button and the forces that coalesced to create it tapped into something uniquely human.
'We thought serendipity of the innovation was part of the point,' Reeves said. 'And I don't think we can get bored with liking or having our capacity to compliment taken away so easily because it's the product of 100,000 years of evolution.'
© Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without permission.

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Like it or not, the Like button has changed the world
Like it or not, the Like button has changed the world

Japan Today

time18-05-2025

  • Japan Today

Like it or not, the Like button has changed the world

This image provided by BCG shows a sketch by Bob Goodson that included a crude concept of what would become the Like button on May 18, 2005. (BCG via AP) By MICHAEL LIEDTKE The internet wouldn't be the same without the Like button, the thumbs-up icon that Facebook and other online services turned into digital catnip. Like it or not, the button has served as a creative catalyst, a dopamine delivery system and an emotional battering ram. It also became an international tourist attraction after Facebook plastered the symbol on a giant sign that stood outside its Silicon Valley headquarters until the company rebranded itself as Meta Platforms in 2021. A new book, 'Like: The Button That Changed The World," delves into the convoluted story behind a symbol that's become both the manna and bane of a digitally driven society. It's a tale that traces back to gladiator battles for survival during the Roman Empire before fast-forwarding to the early 21st century when technology trailblazers such as Yelp co-founder Russ Simmons, Twitter co-founder Biz Stone, PayPal co-founder Max Levchin, YouTube co-founder Steve Chen, and Gmail inventor Paul Buchheit were experimenting with different ways of using the currency of recognition to prod people to post compelling content online for free. As part of that noodling, a Yelp employee named Bob Goodson sat down on May 18, 2005, and drew a crude sketch of thumbs up and thumbs down gestures as a way for people to express their opinions about restaurant reviews posted on the site. Yelp passed on adopting Goodson's suggested symbol and, instead, adopted the 'useful,' 'funny' and 'cool' buttons conceived by Simmons. But the discovery of that old sketch inspired Goodson to team up with Martin Reeves to explore how the Like button came to be in their new book. 'It's something simple and also elegant because the Like button says, 'I like you, I like your content. And I am like you. I like you because I am like you, I am part of your tribe,' ' Reeves said during an interview with The Associated Press. 'But it's very hard to answer the simple question, 'Well, who invented the Like button?' ' Although Facebook is the main reason the Like button became so ubiquitous, the company didn't invent it and almost discarded it as drivel. It took Facebook nearly two years to overcome the staunch resistance by CEO Mark Zuckerberg before finally introducing the symbol on its service on February 9, 2009 — five years after the social network's creation in a Harvard University dorm room. As happens with many innovations, the Like button was born out of necessity but it wasn't the brainchild of a single person. The concept percolated for more than a decade in Silicon Valley before Facebook finally embraced it. 'Innovation is often social and Silicon Valley was the right place for all this to happen because it has a culture of meetups, although it's less so now,' Reeves said. 'Everyone was getting together to talk about what they were working on at that time and it turned out a lot of them were working on the same stuff.' The effort to create a simple mechanism to digitally express approval or dismay sprouted from a wellspring of online services such as Yelp and YouTube whose success would hinge on their ability to post commentary or video that would help make their sites even more popular without forcing them to spend a lot of money for content. That effort required a feedback loop that wouldn't require a lot of hoops to navigate. And when Goodson was noodling around with his thumbs-up and thumbs-down gesture, it didn't come out of a vacuum. Those techniques of signaling approval and disapproval had been ushered into the 21st century zeitgeist by the Academy Award-winning movie, 'Gladiator,' where Emperor Commodus — portrayed by actor Joaquin Phoenix — used the gestures to either spare or slay combatants in the arena. But the positive feelings conjured by a thumbs up date even further back in popular culture, thanks to the 1950s-era character Fonzie played by Henry Winkler in the top-rated 1970s TV series, 'Happy Days.' The gesture later became a way of expressing delight with a program via a remote control button for the digital video recorders made by TiVO during the early 2000s. Around the same time, Hot or Not — a site that solicited feedback on the looks of people who shared photos of themselves — began playing around with ideas that helped inspire the Like button, based on the book's research. Others that contributed to the pool of helpful ideas included the pioneering news service Digg, the blogging platform Xanga, YouTube and another early video site, Vimeo. But Facebook unquestionably turned the Like button into a universally understood symbol, while also profiting the most from its entrance into the mainstream. And it almost didn't happen. By 2007, Facebook engineers had been tinkering with a Like button, but Zuckerberg opposed it because he feared the social network was already getting too cluttered and, Reeves said, 'he didn't actually want to do something that would be seen as trivial, that would cheapen the service.' But FriendFeed, a rival social network created by Buchheit and now OpenAI Chairman Bret Taylor, had no such qualms, and unveiled its own Like button in October 2007. But the button wasn't successful enough to keep the lights on at FriendFeed, and the service ended up being acquired by Facebook. By the time that deal was completed, Facebook had already introduced a Like button — only after Zuckerberg rebuffed the original idea of calling it an Awesome button 'because nothing is more awesome than awesome,' according to the book's research. Once Zuckerberg relented, Facebook quickly saw that the Like button not only helped keep its audience engaged on its social network but also made it easier to divine people's individual interests and gather the insights required to sell the targeted advertising that accounted for most of Meta Platform's $165 billion in revenue last year. The button's success encouraged Facebook to take things even further by allowing other digital services to ingrain it into their feedback loops and then, in 2016, added six more types of emotions — 'love,' 'care,' 'haha,' 'wow,' 'sad,' and 'angry.' Facebook hasn't publicly disclosed how many responses it has accumulated from the Like button and its other related options, but Levchin told the book's authors that he believes the company has probably logged trillions of them. 'What content is liked by probably one of the singularly most valuable things on the internet,' Levchin said in the book. The Like button also has created an epidemic of emotional problems, especially among adolescents, who feel forlorn if their posts are ignored and narcissists whose egos feast on the positive feedback. Reeves views those issues as part of the unintentional consequences that inevitably happen because 'if you can't even predict the beneficial effects of a technological innovation how could you possibly forecast the side effects and the interventions?' Even so, Reeves believes the Like button and the forces that coalesced to create it tapped into something uniquely human. 'We thought serendipity of the innovation was part of the point,' Reeves said. 'And I don't think we can get bored with liking or having our capacity to compliment taken away so easily because it's the product of 100,000 years of evolution.' © Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without permission.

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time07-04-2025

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Tokyo Humanities Cafe feeds hungry minds

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Over time, Williams and Watson began reaching out to speakers beyond the academic world as well, exploring the question of what exactly the humanities encompass. 'Some of the best talks have been from people who, when we asked them, they're like, 'I'm not sure I'm exactly humanities,' but they bring something completely fresh to it,' says Watson, 45. The crew behind THC are always on the lookout for new presenters with fresh perspectives as a way to keep the events interesting for regular attendees, including themselves. While there is an odd theme, they are usually looking for a balance of disciplines and a mix of Japanese and non-Japanese speakers. Recently, they've begun inviting musicians to perform, and they want to consider how to include more visual arts and branch into new areas like video games. Anne-Gaëlle Saliot of Duke University gives a lecture on the classic French New Wave film 'Hiroshima mon amour.' | Courtesy of Alex Watson Watson avoids adherence to a narrow definition of the humanities, referring to a 'vast field of endeavors' instead. 'We've never really put boundaries around it in this cafe, where you can get people from an enormous range of disciplines,' he says. THC has also made networking and community-building a priority. In between presentations, participants can circulate, ask questions of the speakers and introduce themselves to each other, all facilitated by a cabaret-style setup with many shared tables rather than forward-facing rows. During the COVID-19 pandemic, the event went on hiatus rather than move online because Watson and Williams felt so strongly about the value of getting people in the same room to connect. At the group's most recent event held in January, the value of the in-person dynamic was clearly on display. Around 30 people of various ages and nationalities attended, some newcomers and some regulars, all of varying ages and nationalities. It was the second THC for Glen Burns, 65, who enjoys the informal atmosphere and broad array of presenters. He was talking with first-timer Mami Oyamada, 33, who had come to support one of the night's speakers, and Heidi Lee, 30, a previous speaker. Burns said the event's appeal is the chance to meet up with a diverse group of intellectuals and 'inquire into what makes things work the way they work.' As Burns suggested, the night's conversations often turned to issues of 'real world' significance and the impact of shared experience. The cyberpunk poet talked about how advances in technology sometimes outpace futuristic fiction, with art and science feeding each other. A speaker describing challenges she's encountered as a multicultural Japanese person prompted discussion about how helping schoolkids and teachers navigate questions of identity can improve academic outcomes. Yutaka Kikugawa, founder of the music education program El Sistema Japan, speaks at a Tokyo Humanities Cafe event. | Courtesy of Alex Watson The atmosphere presented a stark contrast to the image of the humanities as fanciful, impractical or stuffy, disparagements that have been used to justify department cuts at universities worldwide. 'The humanities have been in crisis for a long time,' Watson says. 'We need to rethink how we make ourselves part of the contemporary world as it is. 'Humanities are about interpreting events and understanding the significance of events,' he continues. 'Being able to judge different arguments and ideas based on evidence, to understand your own subjectivity and how that informs your perspective.' While these skills are certainly useful in the current 'post-truth age,' they are also vital to the sciences as well as in business and in life more generally. 'Humanities work in Tokyo is exciting. It's cutting edge. It's totally relevant to people's lives — and it's not an ivory tower,' Williams says. 'Nobody comes away from the cafe thinking that the humanities aren't relevant. The humanities are what it means to be human.' For more information about Tokyo Humanities Cafe and to learn about upcoming events, visit or follow THC on Facebook at

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