Apple caused a lot of consternation amongst the tech world's equivalent of the chattering classes (On a good day, I include myself in that group.) with the question asked at the end of this ad. For many, the question was one that challenged the preconceived notion of the form factor: Could something without a fixed and attached keyboard and a lot of I/O options really be a computer?
Some probably typed this on their lovingly crafted mechanical keyboards while their laptop was docked in clamshell mode, not giving it a second thought.
For others, the question was one of specs: Could anything with so little RAM or storage or CPU/GPU power really be a computer?
They probably didn't stop to consider that their cellphone's specs are superior to what NASA used to travel to the moon and that Voyager has less computational power than their car's key fob.
For still others, it’s about the software capabilities. Can anything that is incapable of running intensive desktop computing software really be considered a computer?
They probably didn't stop to ask if the real computer they used three to five years before could comfortably run the latest version of the program they are using as a benchmark.
I'm not making these observations to poke fun of the nameless, faceless strawmen I have set up to point at derisively. Rather, I think their objections are critical for understanding what I am beginning to explore in response to that ad's question.
“What’s a computer?”
The ad’s answer, according to the graphics that appear on the screen, includes an iPad Pro running iOS 11 — a device and operating system those of us living the iPadOS lifestyle might consider limited in the same way my strawmen might attribute to our iPads.
But the point of the ad, along with ads like “Homework” —an ad that haunts me because it highlights what I fear are my own pedagogical shortcomings, is that the computer must serve a purpose if it’s going to be real.
I suspect many consumers generally “get it” — whether they are buying an iPad, a Mac, or a Windows machine. It's about what the device can (or can't) do for them and what they're comfortable with.
The iPad Mini I am writing this on right now is, for my immediate need, more powerful than the most impressively tricked out Mac Pro because the Mac Pro doesn't support Scribble or the Apple Pencil. And while there's no question that the new M4 iPad Pro outperforms my Mini, the Mini's form factor still delights me more than it would.
So what's a computer? It's a tool — a tool that can only be measured by its utility to the user and not an abstract set of specs and form factors.
My preference for the Mini comes with clear trade offs. The smaller size that, for reasons I cannot explain, I prefer can feel cramped at times and is less forgiving when dealing with online meetings. And I will need to post this via my iPad Pro because Squarespace doesn’t trust the Mini with hyperlinks. But I get more worthwhile (Your opinion may differ.) writing done on it with my Apple Pencil than I do on my iPad Pro with its excellent Magic Keyboard. And I have noticed I actively dislike the thought of using a traditional computer of any manufacture.
The girl in the ad's question is one every user looking at a new device should ask. What, for them, is a computer? And how open are they to change?