What is Steve Jobs’ real legacy?
What does the Apple brand really mean around the world, especially in the sweatshops and mines, where people slave to produce them?
Was Steve Jobs a saint? One might think so, judging by tsunami of public grief that has swept across the western world. But no, he was a man who sold temporary highs to the shallow.
So Steve Jobs, you didn’t want to be the richest man in the cemetery. But you undoubtedly are, your account fueled by the lust of millions for the latest little thing to punctuate their existences. You changed the world, apparently – you were a visionary. But what did you see? A world of suckers, dumb enough to pay through their noses for technology just a little shinier, in slightly prettier boxes, all branded with the devil’s mark. Yes Steve, you saved the world from the tedium of sameness by making everyone as different and original as a Japanese Elvis. The wonder of you helped everyone to feel that cheap thrill of pointlessness – the gift of excess, unnecessary, obsolescent and instantly discardable for the next fruity hit. Were we sharing needles? Your contagion spread like a virus, blocking any avenue of escape. Your products were cool, your company calculating and cold. Turning technology into fashion, you enjoyed a hyper must-have mark up. Once there was a sucker born every minute, now it’s every second. And as the minutes rolled into weeks and years, your monster ballooned into an economic titan – a bubble built on self delusion, doing good by giving the people what they want. The important people, anyway. Us. Not the children of the Congo, forced to mine the filthy ores that feed your baubles, or the Chinese factory workers locked in a ceaseless living death to satisfy our waspish grabbing reflex. Casually, you brushed off criticism like a flake of dust “You go in this place and it’s a factory but, my gosh, they’ve got restaurants and movie theatres and hospitals and swimming pools” you said.
Did we care? We could not resist your goblin fruits. Cynically, you mocked the very meat that fed you. You prefixed everything so blatantly and yet the masses merely applauded your ironic intellect. You gave us all an imperial prerogative, blinding our honest conscience. You could have called your product ” I-m a twat” and we would still have queued outside all week.
And so Steve, snake-hipped and snake-lipped, your coils caressed our self-gratifying hearts. Stockholmed, we worshipped you. You led us into temptation and by taking the apple, we have damned ourselves. You will be remembered, Steve Jobs, as a man who fed our shallow, naked, petty lusts with the very soil of the earth. Who sated our materialistic addiction for minor sensationalism with blood and slavery. In equal measures, Barnum, Stanley and Escobar you will not be forgotten. In a hundred years you will be remembered – with a shudder.