The Bare Face Of The Machine
Apple's dystopian advert is a mask-off moment for the Machine.
A video is doing the rounds. A giant metallic press slowly descends upon an assortment of physical objects, destroying everything in its path. First goes a trumpet, then an arcade machine, then a piano and a blackboard, books, paint, computers, and more, all falling victim to the relentless press of “progress”. Finally, all that remains is a million multicoloured splinters — the ashes of physicality — that are blown away in one almighty puff, much the same way one blows dust away from a surface. The message is pointed: all that physical stuff amounts to nothing. Worthless. As good as dust on an ancient, outdated relic.
But then, the giant metal press starts to ascend, revealing what is truly “worthy” and “valuable”. It reveals what all these physical created things have been compressed into or, one could say, distilled into their purest form: the thinnest, most powerful iPad Apple have ever produced. All this destruction and the subsequent great reveal happens while in the background, the song All I Ever Need Is You ominously plays.
Apple’s CEO was euphoric: “Just imagine all the things it’ll be used to create.” — or perhaps more accurately: “Just imagine all the things it’ll replace.”
The reaction was predictable and somewhat heartening. “How arrogant! How hubristic! How dare Apple think their machine can replace all these physical things and how dare they depict wanton destruction of perfect usable, perfectly good things! But as
wisely said, it was an incredibly honest advert; for it laid bare Apple’s true intentions for all the world to see. It was a “mask off moment”, a point where the machine lets slip its true intentions, exposing the rottenness at its core. A complete disdain for the physical, tangible, real — the good.The message was crystal clear: who needs a piano when you can play a virtual one on this iPad? Who needs hardback books when you can read words on a tablet? Who needs paintings when you can view AI generated art on a screen? Who needs matter at all when you can have bits and bytes that can become almost anything you want them to become? All you need is the iPad. All you need is artificiality mediated by a screen.1 All you need is not to be found “out there”, it’s to be found in here, in our little M4 chip and on our not-so-little screen.
All you will ever need is the machine.
And it all makes perfect, logical sense.
Apple are not interested in creating culture, preserving and nurturing beauty, or promoting the Good Life. They are a public limited company after all. All that really matters is profit and growth to their shareholders. And nothing can stand in the way of that. This company has fully embraced the “Artificialocene”2 staking their future on the ascendancy and dominance of artificial intelligence, virtuality, and screens (the only physical thing in the equation3). They have gone all in on humanity embracing artificiality, and this advert appears to be their bold statement of their desires and intent.
Their shareholders must be delighted. It is the nature of growth-based companies that competitors must be eliminated if meteoric growth is to be achieved. Either competitors are acquired and subsumed into the bigger company, or they are outcompeted into oblivion. In this advert, it is declared that it is not only Samsung that Apple are competing against. It is pianos. It is hardback books. It is painted art. It is blackboards. All these physical things (and more) stand in the way of further growth of artificiality. And the message is: “We will crush you.”
Apple has realised that for the zenith of “unlimited growth” to be achieved, it must decouple itself as much as it can from physical things4 and instead relentlessly pursue virtuality and artificiality. This is because virtual “things” are decoupled from physical limits5 and thus have the potential for near-infinite growth and unlimited profits.
If Apple can convince us that we no longer need physical things,6 and can find all our desires met in its virtual universe, the rewards for its shareholders will be immense. For “all our needs”, there will be an “App for that” or some other software to replace the physical thing. Apple can thus tap into all those previously inaccessible markets and compete directly against makers of physical goods: artists, manufacturers, designers, craftsmen. It will leave a trail of destroyed businesses and creatives in its wake. But it does not care. The shareholders will be happy.
The pressure is going to heat up. Apple knows our nature — it knows many of us will find its machine and its apps irresistible. It knows the ease, efficiency, and addiction that comes with artificiality will prevail against many of our defences. And it thinks it will win — for this is just the first brave move. Who knows what products and what power it has in the pipeline?
But it won’t win.7 For it can’t. Insurmountable limits to its onward march will always persist; we will always need physical things and the superiority of so-called “replaceable” physical things will eventually shine through as clear as day. But in the meantime, let this advert remind us of the vital importance of real and physical things and let us appreciate what immense pressure makers, creators, and artists are already suffering. Commit to buying physical books. Learn a physical instrument. Create art that can go into a gallery. Buy and make real things.
And don’t bite into the Apple.8
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Further reading
A Refuge of Authenticity
Welcome to the age of disorientation. Step into the 2023 digital world and almost nothing you see, hear, or read should be assumed to be real anymore. Not that anything digital was ever really “real” in the sense of physical, created matter - for that you would have to turn off the screen and go outside and listen to the b…
And they would probably do away with that if they could.
A term I have coined to describe the coming era of AI, virtuality, primacy of the immaterial. It transcends the anthropocene, though can never be a geological epoch in the strictest sense of the suffix -cene.
And even this is pitch black and ultra thin, representing "nothingness and immateriality.
Which are fundamentally limited. As all material things are.
Apart from the need to produce energy to power the electrical machine medium. These limits will always remain.
Excepting of course, food, drink, shelter and clothes…
I say this fore-well knowing there is nothing wrong with buying an Apple product. They are good products (I am using a MacBook to write this). But it is the philosophy of Apple that needs to be avoided, and this may mean refusing to buy their products going forward (or buying secondhand).
After a streak of infatuation with an e-reader, I rediscovered, with great pleasure, paper books, and their margins to scribble in. Tangible volumes, which pages are much nicer to the touch than a glass screen, and fonts are much nicer to the eye.
Listening to the music from a record, and turning an inert volume knob in a stereo amplifier adds another layer to a superb sonorous experience. Streaming is enough for podcasts.
Taking notes, on a device does not work, they end up lost and forgotten, while hand written notes leave longer lasting marks in memory.
Finally, most of the iPads and the likes will end up under a press for garbage, and we will come back to tools, instruments and devices designed for their sole purpose. But there is never too much reminding people about the usefulness, and charm, of things which Apple would like to replace.
They are happy to destroy culture, only to then sell you a pale imitation of it at a premium.