Apple: From Perfect Mac World to iPad Dystopia
Published in Le Nouvel Observateur
(France) on 9 October 2011
by Paul Moreira (link to original)
I have passed the time of mourning before writing this piece. It’s true that in the ‘80s, Steve Jobs and Apple launched their new computers in a way similar to that of the ancient Greek Titan Prometheus, who stole the gift of fire from the Olympian gods and offered it to the mortal humans.
There was a prologue to the digital revolution we have lived through. I am old enough to remember the hours spent learning various computer languages on hostile machines whose glowing green letters stood hauntingly against a black background. It inspired an ardent desire to leave, get on a motorcycle and ride aimlessly by the docks.
I remember the delicious shock of getting my first Mac — later, in 1988. It was a handsome machine that put me within reach of the pinnacle of the human species: It was simple, so simple.
Ever since then, I always buy Macs. Then along came the Internet: The infinite expansion of our collective brain; a sudden shrinkage of our world. With it came the possibility of organizing oneself in a network. The direct access to knowledge was immediate, and for everyone. It ushered in an end to the master thinkers, to the experts of unfathomable power. There was now the ability to move information, data and images at the speed of a lightning spark.
Apple was firmly in the front of the line. The company served the people (and, incidentally, Jobs’ bank account, which was only fair).
Then there was the iPad: An object with which Apple would betray the essence of the Internet, its freedom of exchange and its libertarian personality. With it, Apple invented the monopolistic pipeline. It was a machine conceived so that the transmission of all its data went through the iTunes store — a set of transfers that reported an earned buck each time. Apple, therefore, came to invent a digital nightmare — a tool with which to control cash flow. In essence, it became a cash machine. Thanks to its marketing campaign (or commercials, for fear of ideological manipulation), Apple succeeded in selling us the iPad (a pretty device, of course). But it did this without telling us that it was a technological shell that we had to fill with its software.
Apple, which built its name on its resistance to Big Brother, had just created a device for total control. Its profits, for the first time, took priority over the needs of the public. A few months later, Jobs would succumb to a liver disease. Like him, a chained Prometheus was also delivered to the vultures.
There was a prologue to the digital revolution we have lived through. I am old enough to remember the hours spent learning various computer languages on hostile machines whose glowing green letters stood hauntingly against a black background. It inspired an ardent desire to leave, get on a motorcycle and ride aimlessly by the docks.
I remember the delicious shock of getting my first Mac — later, in 1988. It was a handsome machine that put me within reach of the pinnacle of the human species: It was simple, so simple.
Ever since then, I always buy Macs. Then along came the Internet: The infinite expansion of our collective brain; a sudden shrinkage of our world. With it came the possibility of organizing oneself in a network. The direct access to knowledge was immediate, and for everyone. It ushered in an end to the master thinkers, to the experts of unfathomable power. There was now the ability to move information, data and images at the speed of a lightning spark.
Apple was firmly in the front of the line. The company served the people (and, incidentally, Jobs’ bank account, which was only fair).
Then there was the iPad: An object with which Apple would betray the essence of the Internet, its freedom of exchange and its libertarian personality. With it, Apple invented the monopolistic pipeline. It was a machine conceived so that the transmission of all its data went through the iTunes store — a set of transfers that reported an earned buck each time. Apple, therefore, came to invent a digital nightmare — a tool with which to control cash flow. In essence, it became a cash machine. Thanks to its marketing campaign (or commercials, for fear of ideological manipulation), Apple succeeded in selling us the iPad (a pretty device, of course). But it did this without telling us that it was a technological shell that we had to fill with its software.
Apple, which built its name on its resistance to Big Brother, had just created a device for total control. Its profits, for the first time, took priority over the needs of the public. A few months later, Jobs would succumb to a liver disease. Like him, a chained Prometheus was also delivered to the vultures.