Back when I was a dedicated Facebook user, I remember the disoriented feeling I’d get when I’d log on and something on the website would have been changed overnight. The brooding face of the guy who used to be on the Facebook logo – gone. The strange appearance of like buttons and the newsfeed. The at times abrupt evolution of our personal profiles, which once had places to input your favorite hobbies, movies, and quote.
Over the years, so many changes have been made right under our noses – whether we like it or not. Modern day humans are not exactly known for their love of change. We tend to prefer to stick to what we know, that which feels familiar to us. So, it’s no wonder that changes made to our online landscapes can throw us off. And yet, I rarely hear anyone talk about these changes.
Over the weekend, my iPhone software updated, which means I woke up to a phone that was the same as before, but slightly different. The font of the time on my lock screen is bolder. The notifications accumulate on the bottom half of the phone instead of at the top, like they used to. These are just the changes that I noticed — I presume that iPhone buffs make a point of researching new features as they become available.
It feels a bit like going into your local grocery store after they’ve spent all night rearranging the shelves. It’s the same products, but everything is in a new location and you have to meander around trying to find what you came in to buy. I was never sure of the reasoning behind these strategies. Is it to freshen things up? To get the customers lost so that they find (and buy) something that they never would have seen before?
iPhones are designed to be an extension of your being, like a besotted pet that can read your mind and anticipate your next move. Our experience is meant to be seamless, so we feel as though we are one with the phone. Reach for your phone and it immediately responds, lighting up without you having to push a button. Turn your phone sideways and it will react in kind. You can even give commands to your phone from across the room, by simply speaking to the Siri who lives inside.
These characteristics help us to have a uniquely personal relationship to our phone, a vastly different relationship than the one we have with any other belonging.
This feeling of close personal connection to our phone conceals us from the reality which is that our phone is a product – and it does not ultimately belong to us. In terms of software, what happens to our phones is out of our control. We have no say in the ways our phones change over time—what gets prioritized in its development and what doesn’t. The same can be said for social media platforms, as we are seeing play out in the public sphere with Elon’s takeover of Twitter. As personally connected to them as we might feel, these are private companies who answer to their shareholders (or the whims of their owners)—not to their users. These products and platforms are not democratically operated; changes get made and we must live with them, whether we like it or not.
Like the products on the shelves that get redesigned—new look! same great product!—these software upgrades are marketing strategies, a little reminder that the people behind the Apple logo are always hard at work “improving” the product that you own, even after it’s left the factory.
With this most recent iPhone software update, I accepted an updated privacy agreement, which I did not read. What exactly would happen had I refused to accept whatever changes were made to this agreement? Would I still be able to use this product? Who do I speak to about aspects of the product that don’t align with my values?
It’s my choice to use this product, so I can also make the choice to not use the product. And yet, I stick with the devil that I know. I accept the changes that are made, knowing full well that the engineers who design these products have one goal, which is to keep us hooked.