Having used the same iPhone 6s for several years, I felt like a veritable geezer upon opening the gleaming iPhone 11 earlier today. It’s a beautiful machine, and yet I distrust it. Upon powering up, it was too happy to greet me, to eager to import my data, to scan my face, file and categorize my location and patterns, to let me know just what all it is capable of. Built-in facial recognition doesn’t instill confidence. The knowledge that my phone is always looking for me, and when my face pops up, the phone unlocks. The seemingly intelligent removal of my autonomy is slightly unnerving. I’ve since placed a tiny star sticker over the front camera, and set up a password to unlock the phone. I like passwords as a protector of gadgets, not fingerprint IDs for face scans. Passwords feel far more secure, and they allow at the very least my delusion that I’m more in control.
The rapid advance of this technology makes me feel, strangely, like this gadget is getting more from me than I from it. I don’t like that feeling. I also feel like this type of technological advance is more of a detour than a true advance. The gadget itself radiates tech addiction. Everything is too easy, too much at your fingertips, no dis-utility, no effort to complete various tasks.
It has Microsoft Word. With a bluetooth keyboard, this thing becomes a portable computer. I can write blog posts or articles and submit them, all from this phone. I can easily find and read every bit of news and opinion I want to. I can save articles offline for later reading, I can download and read entire books.And I have a feeling that this phone is cataloging every single thing I do with it, building a virtual file on me, and doing it far better than any Stazi or KGB snoop ever could.
I don’t like the feeling that this small device could subtly, yet significantly, alter my future in some way without my being aware of it. Even if it consists of the alteration of habits of thought. I can’t seem to pin down just why I distrust it so. And yet I will use it.