[URL]http://www.newamerica.net/publications/articles/2010/the_apple_two_30264[/URL]\n\nByTim Wu,\nNew America Foundation\nApril 6, 2010 | Slate\n\nIn 2006, professor Jonathan Zittrain of Harvard Law School predicted\nthat over the next decade there would be a determined effort to\nreplace the personal computer with a new generation of "information\nappliances." He was, it turned out, exactly right. But the one thing\nhe couldn't forecast was who would be leading the charge. How, indeed,\ncould anyone have guessed that Apple Inc., the creator of the personal\ncomputer, would lead the effort to exterminate it?\n\nThere are many interesting things to be said about the iPad. It might\nsave publishing, television, and journalism. It might overrun Sony and\nMicrosoft in computer gaming.\n\nIt also might turn Americans back into the passive couch potatoes they\nwere in the 1950s. But perhaps the greatest story is of Apple itself,\nand the degree to which the iPad's design does battle with the\ncompany's own history and the computing legacy of its co-founder,\nSteve Wozniak.\n\nApple is a schizophrenic company, a self-professed revolutionary that\nis closely allied with establishment forces like the entertainment\nconglomerates and the telecommunications industry. To understand this\ncontradiction we need to look back to Apple's origins. Let's go back\nto a day in 1971 when we find a bearded young college student in thick\neyeglasses named Steve Wozniak hanging out at the home of Steve Jobs,\nthen in high school. The two young men, electronics buffs, were\nfiddling with a crude device they'd been working on for more than a\nyear. That day was their eureka moment: Apple's founders had managed\nto hack AT&T's long-distance network. Their invention was a "blue box"\nthat made long-distance phone calls for free. The two men, in other\nwords, got started by defrauding the firm that is now perhaps Apple's\nmost important business partner.\n\nThe anti-establishment spirit that underpinned the blue box still\ngives substance to the iconoclastic, outsider image Apple and Steve\nJobs have long cultivated. Back in the 1970s, the inventors reinforced\ntheir company's ethos with their self-styling as counterculturals.\nBoth men had long hair and opposed the Vietnam War. Wozniak, an\ninveterate prankster, ran an illegal "dial-a-joke" operation; Jobs\nwould travel to India in search of a guru.\n\nBut the granular truth of Apple's origins was a bit more complicated\nthan the simplifying imagery suggested. Even in these beginnings,\nthere was a significant divide between the two men. There was no real\nparity in technical prowess: It was Wozniak, not Jobs, who had built\nthe blue box. And it was Wozniak who conceived of and built the Apple\nand the Apple II—the personal computer that would be unquestionably\nthe most important Apple product ever and arguably among the most\nimportant inventions of the latter 20th century. Jobs was the\nbusinessman and the dealmaker, essential as such, but hardly the\nfounding genius of Apple computers, the man whose ideas became silicon\nand changed the world. That was Wozniak.\n\nWozniak's Apple took personal computing, an obscure pursuit of the\nhobbyist, and made it into a culture-wide phenomenon, one that that\nwould ultimately transform not just computing, but communications,\nentertainment, business—in short the whole productive part of American\nlife. And in doing so he made the ideology he followed—"open\ncomputing"—America's ideology. Of course, such an idea didn't\noriginate with Apple; it was at least as old the ideas of Man-Computer\nSymbiosis in the 1960s. By the 1970s, it was an orthodoxy of amateur\nsocieties, like the Bay Area's Homebrew Computer Club, where Wozniak\noffered the first public demonstration of the Apple I in 1976.\n\nWozniak's design was open and decentralized in ways that still define\nthose concepts in the computing industries. The original Apple had a\nhood, and as with a car, the owner could open it up and get at the\nguts of the machine. Although it was a fully assembled device, not a\nkit like earlier PC products, Apple owners were encouraged to tinker\nwith the innards of Wozniak's machine—to soup it up, make it faster,\nadd features. There were slots to accommodate all sorts of peripheral\ndevices, and it was built to run a variety of software. Wozniak's\nethic of openness also extended to disclosing design specifications.\nIn a 2006 talk at Columbia University, he put the point this way:\n"Everything we knew, you knew." To point out that this is no longer\nApple's policy is to state the obvious.\n\nWhile a computer you can modify might not sound so profound, Wozniak\ncontemplated a nearly spiritual relationship between man and his\nmachine. He held, simply, that machines should be open to their owners\nand that all power should reside in the user. That notion mattered\nmost to geeks, but it expressed deeper ideas, too: a distrust of\ncentralized power and a belief, embedded in silicon, that computers\nshould be tools of freedom.\n\nIn 2006, when Wozniak gave his talk at Columbia, I asked him what\nhappened with the Mac. You could open up the Apple II, and there were\nslots and so on, and anyone could write for it, I said. The Mac was\nway more closed. What happened?\n\n"Oh," said Wozniak. "That was Steve. He wanted it that way."\n\nApple's origins were pure Steve Wozniak, but the Mac, the iPod, the\niPhone, and the iPad are the products of the company's other founder.\nSteve Jobs' ideas have always been in tension with Wozniak's brand of\nidealism and the founding principles of Apple. Jobs maintained the\nearly, countercultural image that he and Wozniak created, but\nbeginning with the Macintosh in the 1980s, and accelerating through\nthe iPhone and climaxing with the iPad's release this month, he has\ntaken Apple on a fundamentally different track, one that is, in fact,\nnearly the opposite of the Wozniak vision.\n\nJobs believes in perfection, not muddling through. He would seem as\nmuch at home in Victorian England as behind the counter of a sushi\nbar: a man who believes in a single best way of performing any task\nand presenting the results. As one might expect, his ideas embody an\naesthetic philosophy as much as a sense of functionality, which is why\nApple's products look so good while working so well. But those ideas\nhave also long been at odds with the principles of the early computing\nindustry, of the Apple II, and of the Internet. The ideology of the\nperfect machine and open computing are contradictory. They cannot\ncoexist.\n\nAs Wozniak told me in 2006, it was the Macintosh, launched in 1984,\nthat marked the first departure from many of his ideas as realized in\nthe Apple II.To be sure, the Macintosh was a radical innovation in its\nown right, being the first mass-produced computer to feature a "mouse"\nand a "desktop," ideas born in the mind of Douglas Engelbart in the\n1960s and that had persisted without fructifying in computer science\nlabs ever since. Nevertheless the Mac represented an unconditional\nsurrender of Wozniak's openness, as was obvious from the first glance:\nThere was no hood. You could no longer easily open the computer and\nget at its innards. And only Apple stuff, or stuff that Apple\napproved, could run on it (as software) or plug into it (as\nperipherals). Apple thus became the final arbiter over what the\nMacintosh was and was not, rather in the way that AT&T at one time had\nsole discretion over what could and could not connect to the telephone\nnetwork.\n\nNow in 2010, the iPad takes the same ideas to their logical extreme.\nIt is a beautiful and nearly perfect machine. It is also Jobs' final\ntriumph, the final step in Apple's evolution away from Wozniak and\ntoward a closed model. The main, and most important, concession to\nopenness is the App Store, a creation that shows Jobs learned\nsomething from Apple's bitter defeat by Microsoft in the 1990s. You\ncannot run software Apple does not distribute itself. You cannot\naccess the file system unless you hack the machine. You cannot open\nthe hood; indeed, the machine lacks any screws. I compared my iPad to\nvarious appliances around the home—coffee machines, toaster, cameras—\nand the only thing comparably sealed was, well, an iPod. The iPad has\nno slots; its only interface is an Apple-specific plug. Oddly enough,\nthis all means that the iPad is not a machine that Apple's founders,\nin the 1970s, would have ever considered buying.\n\nBut this may not matter for many people, for the iPad is handy tool\nfor getting well-produced content from the industries that make it.\nAnd even if it doesn't do everything a computer does, it still does\nmost things. Still, it is meant for consumers not users, and as such\nhas far more in common with the television than the personal computer.\nIt is not meant for the Homebrew Computer Club—for tinkerers,\nhobbyists, or for that matter, creators.\n\nSteve Wozniak has said that he pre-ordered three iPads, two for\nhimself and one for a friend. This is a testament to his incredible\ngood nature and his loyalty both to the firm that marginalized him in\nthe 1980s and to a friend, Jobs, who refused to write a foreword for\nhis memoirs. Yet somewhere, deep inside, Wozniak must realize what the\nrelease of the iPad signifies: The company he once built now,\nofficially, no longer exists.