Beware of geeks bearing gifts. Even becoming one of the greatest philanthropists of modern times has not made William Henry Gates III one of the age's most-loved men. He has, however, been one of its most significant.

Yesterday Bill Gates gave up his last executive positions in Microsoft, the company he dropped out of Harvard to found (see page 60). The profiles have emphasised his skills as a businessman (prodigious) and his bank balance (still more prodigious). Yet even these underestimate him.

Mr Gates's wealth may allow him to be compared to titans such as Rockefeller and Carnegie. His economic and social impact has arguably been greater than either. On almost every desk, in almost every office, sits a softly humming monument to Mr Gates's vision and tenacity.

Once, in the early 1980s it seemed as if the future of computing lay in multi-user systems, with terminals connected to central systems. Users were mere satellites. By the end of that decade, distributed data processing had taken hold, with terminals replaced by PCs and users gaining control over information and processing power, and connecting on a basis of equality. This change, from hierarchy to network, has had profound consequences for the economy - powering a productivity revolution - and has had, and will continue to have, profound consequences socially - allowing millions to become authors, publishers, librarians, political activists and film-makers all without leaving their home.

Bill Gates has many enemies who would wish to deny him the credit for any of this. They say he has been merely rapacious, exploiting the insights of others (Digital Research, Apple, Novell) without contributing much himself in the way of innovation. They may have a point but they are missing the bigger picture.

What made distributed data processing possible is that Mr Gates realised that it was commercially sensible to separate software from hardware. Instead of building his own proprietary computer he licensed his operating system to IBM while insisting on retaining the copyright. He made his fortune when other companies cloned IBM's machines. As he did so, computers everywhere gained a common platform, which allowed systems to be linked easily and enabled software developers to build blockbuster applications to fulfil almost universal office needs.

It is true that Mr Gates has been a hard man to do business with. He is driven, relentless, contemptuous of the inferior intelligence of others. His catchphrase is: “That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.” And he has built a company in his image. Microsoft has ridden roughshod not merely over its competitors but also, at times, over its consumers, too. It has tied in its applications with its operating systems in a way designed to exclude alternative providers and force users to pay for products they may not have wanted. This brought the company to the attention of the legal authorities across the world, and rightly so.

It is also true that Mr Gates's focus and drive led him, at first, to miss the importance of the internet. It is probably best for Microsoft that he leaves it, now that it needs to adapt to the co-operative opportunities of the net. Yet the real reason why Mr Gates has so many enemies is more basic. He got there first. He thrashed his competitors. He saw the future and it irked.