Tag: subscription economy

  • Apple and its Values

    Apple and its Values

    People often assume my criticism of Apple is about the products. It is not. There are countless products on the market that I dislike, find overpriced, or have no interest in using. I do not lose sleep over their existence. People should be free to make their own choices, including choices I would not make.

    My concern is that Apple has become one of the most influential companies in shaping how technology is designed, owned, controlled, and experienced. The values embedded in Apple’s products increasingly shape the expectations of the entire industry. What troubles me is the worldview behind it.

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    It Started with a Macintosh

    My skepticism began long before smartphones, app stores, or cloud services. In the early 1990s, someone asked me to help troubleshoot a problem on a Macintosh. Coming from an MS-DOS background, my instinct was straightforward: inspect the system, verify the settings, identify the cause, solve the problem.

    Instead, I found a machine that seemed unwilling to reveal how it worked. The information I wanted was hidden. The settings I expected to find were inaccessible or obscured. I could not understand the system because the system did not want to be understood.

    Looking back, that first encounter exposed a philosophical difference that has stayed with me ever since. I view computers as tools that users should be able to understand. Apple views computers as products that should shield users from complexity.

    The Philosophy of “We Know Better”

    At the heart of Apple is a simple idea: the company knows better than its users. This philosophy has been present since the days of Steve Jobs and continues to shape the company today.

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    Apple decides which software can run on your device. Apple decides which applications may enter its ecosystem. Apple decides how you repair your hardware, how you access your content, and increasingly how you interact with your own data. Supporters call this curation. I call it paternalism.

    The assumption behind many Apple decisions is that users should be protected from complexity, risk, and sometimes from themselves. The result is a technology ecosystem where consumers are treated less like owners and more like participants in a carefully managed environment.

    Quality Through Control

    One of the most common defenses of Apple is product quality. Apple’s supporters often point to integration, reliability, and design quality as evidence that the company’s approach works.

    I see the same products differently. The very controls that many users experience as simplicity often feel restrictive and frustrating to me. Quality becomes easier when you control the hardware, the operating system, the application marketplace, and the repair ecosystem. Quality becomes easier when competing approaches are excluded.

    That Apple succeeds at this is not in dispute. What I dispute is the conclusion many draw from it: that control is therefore justified. A highly optimized product is not ethical proof of the philosophy that produced it. It simply demonstrates that centralized control can manufacture profitable outcomes at the cost of user autonomy.

    The same logic applies to security. Apple’s ecosystem is more secure partly because users are prevented from making certain choices. For some people, that is a reasonable trade-off. For me, it raises a more important question: should security be achieved by limiting agency?

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    Batterygate and the Problem of Incentives

    One of the most revealing episodes in Apple’s history was the battery throttling controversy. The engineering explanation may have been legitimate, but Batterygate was not primarily a technical failure. It was a failure of transparency.

    Apple made decisions affecting devices people owned without providing the information necessary for informed consent. Effectively, it encouraged users to upgrade or replace. Whether the outcome was intentional or incidental is almost beside the point. The episode demonstrated a willingness to prioritize management of the user experience over the user’s right to understand what was happening to their own property.

    The Open-Source Question

    Years ago, I was involved in implementing Moodle, one of the world’s most widely used open-source learning management systems. One recurring challenge was integrating Apple’s ecosystem with a platform built around openness, interoperability, and community collaboration.

    What struck me was not simply the technical friction of trying to make an open, collaborative platform function smoothly inside a locked-down environment. It was that Apple seemed far more interested in preserving the integrity of its own ecosystem than in supporting open, community-driven initiatives.

    Open-source communities generally begin with the assumption that technology should be transparent, adaptable, and collectively improved. Apple begins with the assumption that technology should be curated, controlled, and centrally managed. These are fundamentally different visions of how technology should relate to its users.

    The Slow Death of Ownership

    Perhaps my greatest concern is Apple’s role in normalizing a world where ownership is replaced by access. Technology once allowed people to own their software, music, and media outright. Increasingly, consumers merely license them. Content can disappear. Services can be discontinued. Accounts can be suspended. Entire digital collections can become inaccessible overnight.

    Apple did not create this trend alone, but it helped legitimize and accelerate it. The company demonstrated that consumers could be transformed from owners into subscribers, from customers into permanent tenants. Much of a person’s digital life now exists only through continued permission from a corporation. Most people accepted this transition so gradually that they barely noticed it happening.

    The Hypocrisy Problem

    What ultimately makes Apple difficult to accept is the gap between its image and its reality. Apple presents itself as progressive, ethical, creative, and human-centered. Its marketing emphasizes individuality, empowerment, and social responsibility.

    This rhetoric, however, stops where the physical manufacturing begins. Apple’s business model is built on the premise that centralized control produces superior outcomes. Yet when confronted with labor abuse, predatory working hours, or environmental hazards in its supply chain, the company’s philosophy suddenly shifts. When convenient, Apple emphasizes the independence of third-party suppliers and the strict limits of its corporate responsibility.

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    The contradiction is difficult to ignore. A company capable of controlling the smallest details of product design, which software you are allowed to install, and ecosystem participation, clearly possesses significant leverage over the conditions under which its products are made. They choose total control over the software, but less control when it comes to the human supply chain.

    Apple’s Philosophy Became a Blueprint

    My concern today extends well beyond Apple. What troubles me is how much of the technology industry has adopted the same assumptions.

    For decades, Microsoft represented a different philosophy. Imperfect, expensive, often frustrating, sometimes chaotic, but a platform that generally allowed users, developers, and hardware manufacturers considerable freedom. Over time, Microsoft has moved steadily toward cloud dependency, subscription, account requirements, telemetry, and managed experiences.

    The company has not become Apple, but it has clearly learned from Apple’s success. The lesson it appears to have taken is that control is profitable. The result is an industry that increasingly assumes users should be guided rather than empowered, licensed rather than allowed to own, and managed rather than trusted.

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    The Real Debate

    Apple’s defenders and critics often have different conversations. Supporters point to convenience, integration, simplicity, and security. Critics point to autonomy, ownership, openness, and repairability. Both sides frequently describe the same features.

    The difference lies in which values they prioritize. Apple’s success shows that many people are willing to exchange autonomy for convenience. An exchange that often takes place without fully recognizing the trade-off.

    I understand that choice. I simply don’t share it. For me, technology should not merely work well. It should be understandable. Designed to empower participation rather than encourage dependence. It should treat users as capable individuals, honoring our fundamental need for agency within causation, rather than treating us as consumers to be managed.

    A company that chooses total control over the product it ships, but limited responsibility for the people who make it, has told you exactly what it values.

    AI Transparency Statement: The author defined all core concepts, direction, and parameters for this work. In the writing of this article, AI assisted in drafting some text, conducting research, and correcting grammar. The AI tools used include ChatGPT, Claude, and Gemini. All AI-generated content was thoroughly reviewed and verified for accuracy and appropriateness. The final work reflects human judgment, expertise, and experience.

  • Renting My Own Life

    Renting My Own Life

    I Didn’t Sign Up to Financialize My Life

    I used to buy music. LPs, CDs, and the occasional downloaded file. Once I paid, it was mine. I could listen whenever I wanted. Then it shifted to streaming. Spotify and Apple Music made it effortless. Millions of songs are available instantly. No shelves. No collection to browse. Buying music had been a ritual. Discovering something. Bring it home. Playing it for people I cared about. That ritual is gone. I still have music, but it lives on devices and behind passwords now. It is harder to share and easier to lose.

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    This was sold as progress, but it does not feel like it. I miss record stores and buying something to keep. I resent having to pay continuously for access to things that used to belong to me. That was my first experience of the shift from ownership to permission. It did not stop with music. Movies moved to streaming, and software followed. Companies stopped selling tools and started leasing them. Miss a payment, and the tools stop working.

    Convenience became conditional.

    Ownership faded before I fully noticed. I stopped buying things and started managing subscriptions instead. One by one, small monthly charges became permanent financial background noise.

    Somewhere along the way, this strategy was renamed the sharing economy. A name that still bothers me. Sharing used to mean lending something to someone I knew. It was personal and informal. It was built on trust. Now sharing means platforms, unreadable contracts, and ratings that determine whether I am allowed to participate.

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    Companies like Uber and Airbnb were sold as revolutionary. The promise was freedom and opportunity. Earn extra income. Be your own boss. Cars became businesses. Homes became income streams. Spare time became labor. The promise of freedom and the reality of obligation are not unique to these platforms. It shows up wherever systems are designed to serve capital first and people second.

    Risk moved downward from companies to individuals, wrapped in friendly language. Subscriptions were never really about access. They were about predictability for the provider. Stable revenue. Reduced risk. Long-term control.

    I accepted it for convenience. The cost was a recurring obligation. Freedom slowly began to feel like dependence. This is the sharing economy. Less about sharing and more about renting personal belongings to strangers through apps that take a cut.

    When the commodity is you

    The sharing economy did not stop at things. It moved on to people. Uber described itself as a platform connecting drivers and riders. In practice, it turned personal vehicles into commercial assets while shifting insurance, maintenance, and depreciation to individuals. The car was repurposed, not really shared.

    Airbnb followed the same pattern. The spare room became managed inventory. Hosts coordinated cleaners, monitored reviews, and adjusted pricing to algorithms. The home, the one place a person is supposed to control, became a small business.

    Then the same logic moved further. Surrogacy agencies and egg donation brokers adopted similar structures. The language softened the transaction: compensation instead of payment, journey instead of contract. A body became a service. Biology entered the marketplace.

    Content creation followed, dressed up as self-expression. Platforms promised that anyone could build an audience and make a living. Some people do. But the demands are relentless. Post constantly. Track engagement. Adjust to algorithm changes.

    Personality becomes product. Attention becomes inventory. Platforms take a cut and control the relationship with the audience. Change the algorithm, and years of effort can collapse overnight. This pressure to perform for an algorithm is not unique to creators. It shows up wherever platforms interact with people, including the professional networks we use to manage our careers. The creator carries the risk while the platform keeps the margin.

    I am not arguing that everyone participating in these systems is exploited. People make choices, and sometimes the income matters. What concerns me is the structure. It makes these arrangements feel natural while quietly moving risk downward and profit upward.

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    The word I keep hearing is flexibility. Flexible income. Flexible hours. Flexible commitments. In practice, flexibility belongs to the platform. They summon labor when needed and discard it when not. For the worker, flexibility tends to mean instability. The logic has no clear stopping point. Each new platform finds another part of life to turn into a transaction.

    This is not a sharing economy. Sharing implies reciprocity and trust. What I see instead is a rental economy with warmer language. Platforms control the relationship. They capture the margin. Individuals carry the risk. It is not empowerment. It is not freedom.

    I am a platform’s revenue source.

    AI Transparency Statement for “Renting My Own Life”: The author defined all core concepts, direction, and parameters for this work. In the writing of this article, “Renting My Own Life,” AI assisted in drafting some text, conducting research, and creating visualizations elements. The AI tools used include ChatGPT, Claude, and Gemini. All AI-generated content was thoroughly reviewed and verified for accuracy and appropriateness. The final work reflects human judgment, expertise and experience.

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