My interns inform me that Huffington Post has declared that "technology is anthropology."
Wow. That's heavy. As they say on "30 Rock," tell us some other things
we already knew. Not sure if you've been paying attention to Apple for
the past three decades, but, see, this concept is pretty much the
foundation of our operation. Remember those people who spent a week
camping out on folding chairs outside Apple stores back in 2007, so they
could get the iPhone? They didn't do it because there was shortage of
phones. They did it because they wanted to make a statement about
themselves. I don't know how this camping out thing got started, but
Apple people really love to sleep on sidewalks and in malls. They'll do
it for almost anything that involves Apple, especially my keynotes.
The reason is, Apple is not really a company -- it's a cult. Imagine
what it might be like if the Church of Scientology went into the
consumer electronics business, and you'd have a pretty good idea of how
we operate. We have a philosophy, a way of looking at the world.
Minimalism is part of it. Simplicity is another. Our fundamental belief
is that people can achieve transcendence through technology -- that by
owning certain products, meaning our products, a person can
become smarter, and even better than other people. The products we make
are simply totemic objects -- signifiers, as Saussure would have said.
(I'm assuming you're up to speed on your semiotics, and if not, well,
keep using Windows; it's the right solution for you.) Our products are
physical representations of our philosophy, capsules that let you carry
our belief system around with you and share it with others. For me, the
process of making these objects and splattering them all over the world
is a kind of performance art - what Christo does with cloth, I do with
aluminum, glass and plastic.
People sometimes complain that we charge too much for our products,
but the truth is, our prices are irrelevant. How much is a Picasso
worth? Our prices are not based on cost of goods or any kind of research
into what the market will bear or how much profit we need to make. We
set prices based on numbers that we think will make our fanpersons feel
special. They don't want something cheap. They want to feel good about
themselves. Paying more is one way to achieve that. (I'm amazed that
more companies haven't figured this out.) If you're asking about the
price of an Apple product, you've already self-selected out of our
target demographic. Not because you're too poor, but because you just
don't understand what we're about. And that's fine. We're not for
everyone. True fanpersons are always ready to buy whatever we make,
without question, because they know the object will give meaning to
their lives. You can't put a price on that.
How did I figure this all out? Back in the '70s, before I started
Apple, I made a trek to India and studied with a holy man, Baba
Shreepakdeva. He taught me one thing: People are desperately hungry to
find meaning in their lives. They will go to great lengths and spend
huge amounts of money in this quest. Ever seen the Vatican? Okay then.
Religions are the greatest marketing organizations in the world. All you
have to do to become rich and powerful, he told me, is create objects
that are imbued with spiritual significance. I left India knowing what I
would do with my life.
Why tech products, instead of, say, furniture? For one thing, Woz and
I both sucked at woodworking in high school. But also, technology has
the benefit of seeming like magic. Think of the old Arthur C. Clarke
line: "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from
magic." And religion is all about magic. Transubstantiation of the host?
Please. It's Penn & Teller in colorful robes. Or think of Pizarro
and the conquest of the Incas. You know how the Spaniards converted the
Incas to Christianity? They built churches and crammed them full of
mirrors and shiny objects, with loads of flickering lights. Everywhere I
go I see people staring down into their iPhones, zombies hypnotized by
the flashing screen, and I think, Oh, Pizarro, you've got nothing on me,
hermano.
Right now we're working on this tablet computer, and it's all about
anthropology. At least it has been since I came back to work. While I
was away they were just doing things the way ordinary MBA idiots do
things: focus groups, market research, engineering, feature sets,
specifications. But I came back with my new liver and I was like, Damn,
people! Hold up here! We need to ask some fundamental questions -- not
about the product, but about the fanpersons who will use the product.
Will they write on this tablet, or just read from it? Maybe they will
just buy it and put it on their coffee table and look at it. Or maybe
they will carry it around in a stylish, modern-looking bag and place it
on the table in restaurants to impress other humans.
Will it be shiny? It must be. It must be so shiny that fanpersons can
see themselves reflected in its surface and adore themselves when they
are using it. How will it feel in your hand? It must be smooth. It must
be light, yet substantial. It must feel perfect. It must feel like
something that sprang into being, fully formed - one day it was not
there, and the next day it was. It must inspire awe, and even a touch of
fear. It must cause people to admire you. It must intimidate them and
make them believe that you possess some powerful magic that they do not
understand. Plus, it must have great battery life.
Can we really do all that? Can we really make something that will
change people's lives? Of course we can -- all you have to do is
believe.
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