I think its hard to dispute that many are critical of the iPad because of its shortcomings. They are dissatisfied with the capabilities of the device, lament how far short of their expectations the device turned out to be, and foretell of its failure. I would like to suggest, however, that it is not the shortcomings of the iPad that deserve the harshest criticism, but rather its strengths. We should be less concerned with what it doesnt do well, than with what it does well. We have little to worry about if it turns out to be a failure, but a great deal to worry about should it become a success.
The reason is simple: the iPad signifies, incontrovertibly, a particular vision of lifestyle, culture, and human activity. Anyone who is enticed by the vision offered by the iPad, ask yourself, what do you see yourself doing when you are enjoying the iPad experience? Reading a magazine, perhaps? Or watching a movie, a TV show, a video clip online? Or maybe simply browsing the web. The iPad just might be able to make these experiences more enjoyable, more pleasurable, more effortless than ever before, and this vision makes the device enticing, intriguing, desirable. But what about sharing a message with your social network, contributing an opinion online, or writing a blog post? Sure, all that is possible since you can enter text with the virtual keyboard of the iPad. But those activities are probably not what first come to mind when you envision the iPad experience, because the virtual keyboard makes those activities more inconvenient, less efficient, less enjoyable on the iPad compared to devices with keyboards, if only slightly so for those experienced with virtual keyboards. Or what about writing a story, an essay, a poem? Well, those activities are probably best done with the iPad attached to its keyboard dock. But a tethered, deskbound iPad is not the iPad that you envision in these experiences, is it? No, freedom from the constraints of locations, of wires, of desks is an essential part of the iPad vision. The keyboard dock is a necessity, a vestigial appendage foisted upon the iPad by the demands of an old lifestyle; it has no place in the iPad vision. Or what about creating a sketch, a painting, a design? Sure, it could be done crudely with ones fingers on the iPad. But those activities are probably best saved for another device, another experience, when better tools could let you create something more precisely, more professionally.
It should not be difficult to see, then, what kind of vision is offered by the iPad. By making the consumption of all kinds of media more effortless and more pleasurable than previously possible, while at the same time making the production of all kinds of media more cumbersome and more out-of-reach, the iPad offers a vision of man as a passive consumer of content and of culture. It is a perfect example of one of those infernal machines that John Sousa worried would eliminate the artist in man. The machines would only need to tip the balance, and the natural tendency of man to pursue the easier path combined with the passage of time will do the rest. The more dominant devices such as the iPad become, the more difficult it becomes for the common man to produce anything cultural, the more culture becomes concentrated in a world of stars and idols, a world of professional cultural producers external to the world of common man, an otherworld. As mankind projects its inner creative abilities, its inner artist into this external world of professionals, the culture producer is alienated from man, culture is alienated from mankind. The iPad vision is fulfilled, man has become the passive consumer of culture, for the producer has left him and has become part of the otherworld.
More worryingly, the iPad vision is self-propagating, self-perpetuating. It seeks to draw producers and consumers into its world, but it does not open up its world to all. The bigger its world, the more attractive it becomes for others to enter it, for only by becoming a part of it can one enjoy its riches. And once this world reaches critical mass, once enough people and enough content is committed to this platform, it becomes immensely difficult to abandon it and move to something else. It no longer needs the support of those who shared the vision, for newcomers would have no choice but to accept the dominant platform and become a part of its world. The iPad vision becomes an iron cage for the culture of mankind. To paraphrase Max Weber, someone in this future would say the early adopters wanted to enjoy the iPad vision; we are forced to do so.
This vision of the future of man who has been alienated from the artist within him, who can be nothing more than a passive consumer of culture, is what we have to worry about should the iPad proves to be a success. To prevent this future, we must have the strength to resist our tendency to pursue the easier path. We must have the strength to only use machines that allow us to produce as easily as they allow us to consume, even if doing so makes our consumption of culture more difficult. We must do so for the artist to survive amongst mankind.
The reason is simple: the iPad signifies, incontrovertibly, a particular vision of lifestyle, culture, and human activity. Anyone who is enticed by the vision offered by the iPad, ask yourself, what do you see yourself doing when you are enjoying the iPad experience? Reading a magazine, perhaps? Or watching a movie, a TV show, a video clip online? Or maybe simply browsing the web. The iPad just might be able to make these experiences more enjoyable, more pleasurable, more effortless than ever before, and this vision makes the device enticing, intriguing, desirable. But what about sharing a message with your social network, contributing an opinion online, or writing a blog post? Sure, all that is possible since you can enter text with the virtual keyboard of the iPad. But those activities are probably not what first come to mind when you envision the iPad experience, because the virtual keyboard makes those activities more inconvenient, less efficient, less enjoyable on the iPad compared to devices with keyboards, if only slightly so for those experienced with virtual keyboards. Or what about writing a story, an essay, a poem? Well, those activities are probably best done with the iPad attached to its keyboard dock. But a tethered, deskbound iPad is not the iPad that you envision in these experiences, is it? No, freedom from the constraints of locations, of wires, of desks is an essential part of the iPad vision. The keyboard dock is a necessity, a vestigial appendage foisted upon the iPad by the demands of an old lifestyle; it has no place in the iPad vision. Or what about creating a sketch, a painting, a design? Sure, it could be done crudely with ones fingers on the iPad. But those activities are probably best saved for another device, another experience, when better tools could let you create something more precisely, more professionally.
It should not be difficult to see, then, what kind of vision is offered by the iPad. By making the consumption of all kinds of media more effortless and more pleasurable than previously possible, while at the same time making the production of all kinds of media more cumbersome and more out-of-reach, the iPad offers a vision of man as a passive consumer of content and of culture. It is a perfect example of one of those infernal machines that John Sousa worried would eliminate the artist in man. The machines would only need to tip the balance, and the natural tendency of man to pursue the easier path combined with the passage of time will do the rest. The more dominant devices such as the iPad become, the more difficult it becomes for the common man to produce anything cultural, the more culture becomes concentrated in a world of stars and idols, a world of professional cultural producers external to the world of common man, an otherworld. As mankind projects its inner creative abilities, its inner artist into this external world of professionals, the culture producer is alienated from man, culture is alienated from mankind. The iPad vision is fulfilled, man has become the passive consumer of culture, for the producer has left him and has become part of the otherworld.
More worryingly, the iPad vision is self-propagating, self-perpetuating. It seeks to draw producers and consumers into its world, but it does not open up its world to all. The bigger its world, the more attractive it becomes for others to enter it, for only by becoming a part of it can one enjoy its riches. And once this world reaches critical mass, once enough people and enough content is committed to this platform, it becomes immensely difficult to abandon it and move to something else. It no longer needs the support of those who shared the vision, for newcomers would have no choice but to accept the dominant platform and become a part of its world. The iPad vision becomes an iron cage for the culture of mankind. To paraphrase Max Weber, someone in this future would say the early adopters wanted to enjoy the iPad vision; we are forced to do so.
This vision of the future of man who has been alienated from the artist within him, who can be nothing more than a passive consumer of culture, is what we have to worry about should the iPad proves to be a success. To prevent this future, we must have the strength to resist our tendency to pursue the easier path. We must have the strength to only use machines that allow us to produce as easily as they allow us to consume, even if doing so makes our consumption of culture more difficult. We must do so for the artist to survive amongst mankind.
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