This article was updated in September 2026. For the original piece, scroll below.

I still genuinely dislike Apple. In fact, I have tried to give it a fair chance. In 2022, I bought an iPad Pro with the Magic Keyboard and Apple Pencil because I thought that perhaps I should actually experience the Apple ecosystem properly before continuing to complain about it. It cost me roughly $1,300 at the time. And what do I use it for? Watching series and movies. That is pretty much it. Maybe I am using it wrong. Maybe I need to unlock its "full potential." Maybe there is an Apple productivity guru somewhere who will explain to me that I have been holding the Pencil incorrectly for four years. But for me, a $1,300 tablet that has primarily become an entertainment device has not exactly changed my mind about Apple's value proposition.

And then Apple released the iPhone Duo. That brought back a lot of the reasons I wrote the original article in the first place. Not because the Duo is a bad product. In fact, it is probably a very well-engineered product. That is precisely the problem. Apple has finally entered the foldable phone category more than seven years after Samsung introduced the Galaxy Fold in 2019. Samsung spent years developing the category, dealing with the problems, refining the hardware and software, and trying to convince consumers that folding phones were actually something they wanted. Apple has now arrived with a highly polished version of the concept. I am not going to pretend that the Duo literally has no new features or engineering achievements, because that would be unfair. The issue is where Apple is entering the innovation cycle. It is entering a category that competitors have already spent years developing and then presenting its own highly refined version as another major Apple breakthrough.

Apple Used to Make Me Angry. Now It Makes Me Tired.

There was a time when Apple's biggest strength was that it seemed to be doing things other companies weren't doing. The original iPhone was genuinely revolutionary. The iPod changed the way people consumed music. The iPad created a new category. The Apple Store became a completely different kind of retail experience. I don't dispute any of that, and pretending otherwise would make this article less credible. The problem is that Apple seems to have gradually moved from being the company that creates new categories to being the company that waits until a category has been proven, improves the execution, puts its logo on it and then tells us that we have just entered the future.

Apple doesn't have to be first at everything. I actually agree with the argument that being first does not automatically mean being the best. There are plenty of examples of companies launching products too early, getting things badly wrong and eventually disappearing. Apple's approach of waiting until a technology is mature enough to produce something polished can make perfect business sense. The problem is that there is a difference between being late because you are waiting until a technology is mature enough to make it genuinely useful and being late because you have little incentive to disrupt a product category that is already making you enormous amounts of money.

That distinction matters because Apple's position in the technology industry is very different from that of a small company taking a huge risk. Apple has enormous resources, enormous engineering capabilities and enormous influence. If Apple really wanted to push the smartphone industry in a new direction, it could probably do so. Instead, it often seems to wait for the market to show it which direction is safe to take. That makes excellent business sense. It just isn't what I personally find exciting about technology.

The iPhone Duo Is a Perfect Example

Apple has finally released a foldable iPhone. Congratulations. Samsung introduced the Galaxy Fold in 2019, creating what it described as a new mobile category, and has spent years refining the concept. The first-generation Galaxy Fold was far from perfect, and that is actually part of my point. Samsung took the risk of launching something that was not yet perfect, dealt with the problems and continued investing in the category. Other manufacturers did the same. Apple waited.

The iPhone Duo is not necessarily a bad product. Quite the opposite. Apple has clearly put enormous engineering effort into making it feel like an Apple product rather than simply releasing a foldable phone with iOS installed on it. The company has designed a new hinge, worked on the materials, adapted iOS to the larger display and added features that make sense for the form factor. Those things deserve credit. But ask yourself a simple question: where was Apple while everyone else was figuring this out?

For years, foldable phones were dismissed by many people as gimmicks. They were too thick. They had creases. They were fragile. Android software wasn't good enough. Nobody needed one. Those criticisms weren't necessarily unreasonable, because early foldables genuinely had problems. But once the technology had matured and the category had been validated, Apple entered the market. Suddenly, folding a phone in half is the future.

That is the part that irritates me. The iPhone Duo isn't necessarily an example of Apple copying Samsung. It is an example of Apple entering an established category after competitors have spent years taking the risks, developing the technology, finding the problems, breaking things, fixing things and educating consumers. Apple gets to enter when the technology is mature, when consumers understand the concept and when the category has already been validated. Then Apple gets to package it beautifully and make it feel like the next big thing.

Perhaps it is a breakthrough for Apple. But that is not necessarily the same thing as a breakthrough for the industry.

Apple Is Really Good at Refinement

This is probably the biggest thing I would change from my original article. I used to think Apple was simply bad at innovation. I don't think that anymore. I think Apple is exceptionally good at refinement, and refinement is valuable. Apple can take an idea that already exists and spend years figuring out how to make it thinner, prettier, easier to use, better integrated and more commercially appealing. That is an extremely difficult skill.

The problem is that Apple often gets credit for innovation when what it is really doing is taking an existing idea and making it feel inevitable. There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, I would argue that Apple is probably one of the best companies in the world at doing it. But let's call things what they are. Samsung took the risk of making folding phones mainstream. Apple waited until the category was sufficiently developed and then built its own version. Other companies pushed smartphone camera technology aggressively. Apple eventually incorporated those ideas into the iPhone. Other companies embraced features that Apple initially avoided, and Apple later adopted many of them once they fit its product philosophy.

Apple's question often seems to be, "How can we take this technology and make it feel like an iPhone?" That is a very good business strategy. It just isn't always the same thing as being technologically adventurous.

The Problem With Being Late Is That Apple Gets to Rewrite History

This is one of my biggest problems with Apple's marketing. Apple is extraordinarily good at creating the impression that a feature becomes important when Apple decides it is important. To be fair, sometimes it does. A technology can exist for years without becoming mainstream, and Apple's ability to package, simplify and popularize technology is one of its genuine strengths. But there is a subtle difference between saying that Apple made a technology mainstream and saying that Apple invented it. Those aren't the same thing.

The iPhone didn't invent the smartphone. The iPhone didn't invent the touchscreen. Apple didn't invent the tablet. Apple didn't invent wireless earbuds. Apple didn't invent the smartwatch. Apple didn't invent the foldable phone. What Apple has repeatedly done is take technologies, combine them with exceptional design and software, and make them desirable to a huge audience. That is impressive. But it is different from inventing them.

Unfortunately, the conversation around Apple often blurs those distinctions. That isn't entirely Apple's fault because its marketing is extremely good and its customers are extremely enthusiastic. But when a company has enough marketing power to make people forget what happened before it arrived, you have to pay attention.

And Then There Is the iPhone Itself

My original article complained that Apple deliberately released phones without features so customers would eventually buy newer versions. I still think there is an element of that strategy, although I would phrase it differently today. The modern iPhone is an incredibly mature product. There is only so much you can do with a rectangular piece of glass, and Apple has already spent years refining almost every aspect of the device.

Every year we get better cameras, faster processors, brighter displays, longer battery life, slightly different materials, new buttons, new AI features and improvements that are usually useful but rarely revolutionary. The problem isn't that these improvements are bad. The problem is that Apple still has to sell them as reasons to upgrade. That creates a strange situation where a three- or four-year-old iPhone can remain perfectly adequate for most people, while Apple's marketing machine has to convince those people that this year's phone is worth replacing it with.

This is where Apple's business model and innovation problem collide. If you make a product that is genuinely excellent and lasts for years, how do you convince people to buy another one? You improve it. Then you improve it again. Then you move one camera slightly. Then you improve the processor. Then you make the screen brighter. Then you add an AI feature. Then you introduce a new material or finish. Then you announce that the new material or finish was designed after years of research into how humans perceive light. Eventually, something that might have been a minor product improvement becomes a major annual event.

The irony is that this isn't necessarily bad for consumers. Incremental improvements add up. A modern iPhone is vastly better than the iPhone 4 I was complaining about in the original article. The problem is that the marketing narrative can make each annual improvement sound more revolutionary than it actually is.

The Apple Tax Is Still Real

My original article was also obsessed with how much Apple products cost. I still am, although my criticism has evolved. It isn't simply that Apple products are expensive. Expensive products can absolutely be worth their price. The question is whether the additional money actually produces additional value for the individual customer.

My iPad Pro is a perfect example. I bought the iPad Pro, Magic Keyboard and Apple Pencil because I thought that combination would become a serious productivity machine. It didn't. For me, it became a very expensive entertainment device. That doesn't mean the iPad is objectively bad. Millions of people use iPads professionally and get enormous value from them. It means that Apple's proposition didn't deliver the value I expected from the product.

There is something fascinating about buying an expensive Apple product because of what you imagine you will do with it. You don't just buy the device. You buy the person you imagine you will become when you own the device. You will draw. You will write. You will edit video. You will organize your life. You will become incredibly productive. You will probably wake up at 5:30 in the morning and write your novel while drinking a perfectly prepared espresso. Then three years later you are lying on the sofa watching Netflix. At least that's what happened to me.

That doesn't make Apple dishonest. It makes me a consumer who bought into a particular idea of what the product could do for me. But Apple's ability to sell that aspiration is one of the reasons the company is so successful.

The Ecosystem Is Brilliant, and I Hate It

This is another thing I underestimated in the original article. Apple's ecosystem is genuinely excellent, and that is exactly why I don't like it. Once Apple owns enough of your digital life, leaving becomes increasingly inconvenient. Your phone works with your watch. Your watch works with your Mac. Your AirPods switch between devices. Your photos are everywhere. Your passwords are stored. Your messages appear across devices. Your purchases follow you. Your files follow you. Your subscriptions follow you. Everything is designed to make staying inside the Apple universe incredibly convenient.

That is fantastic product design. It is also an incredibly effective retention strategy. The old Apple lock-in was relatively obvious. You bought an iPhone and perhaps it was tied to a carrier. You bought music through iTunes. You had an Apple-specific ecosystem. The modern version is much more sophisticated. Apple doesn't necessarily have to stop you from leaving. It just has to make leaving annoying enough that you don't bother.

That's much smarter.

Apple Has Turned Inconvenience Into a Competitive Advantage

This is probably where my 2011 self would be most surprised. Back then, I complained about Apple being restrictive. Today, I would argue that Apple has become extremely good at turning restrictions into part of the product experience. Apple decides how its products work. Apple decides how its operating systems work. Apple decides which technologies it supports. Apple decides what developers can do within its ecosystem. Apple decides what accessories and standards it wants to embrace. Apple decides how much control users should have.

Millions of customers accept this because the trade-off is convenience. You don't have to understand how everything works. You don't have to configure everything. You don't have to troubleshoot everything. You don't have to make dozens of decisions. Apple makes many of the decisions for you.

For many people, that is exactly what they want. I am not one of those people. I would rather have the option to make the wrong decision myself.

The Apple Fan Culture Is Still Weird to Me

This part of my original article hasn't changed much, although I would express it differently now. I still find Apple's fan culture strange. Not because people like Apple. People like all kinds of brands. I like Google products. I use Microsoft products. I have spent years working with Meta, LinkedIn, Adobe, HubSpot and dozens of other technology platforms. I don't feel the need to defend these companies as if they are members of my family.

Apple has created a different kind of relationship with its customers. People will argue about Apple versus Android with the emotional intensity of a geopolitical conflict. Someone buys an iPhone and immediately starts explaining why it is superior. Someone buys a Samsung and suddenly they are defending Samsung's honor. Someone points out a weakness in Apple's latest product and another person will appear within 30 seconds to explain why the weakness is actually a feature.

I find that fascinating as a marketer. And I have to admit something uncomfortable: Apple has done an incredible job. The company has managed to turn consumers into part of its marketing department. Its customers create the content, defend the brand, generate comparison videos, make memes, queue outside stores, announce their purchases and explain why the latest iPhone is better. Apple doesn't have to do all the work. Its customers do a lot of it for free.

As a marketer, I have to respect that. As a consumer, I find it exhausting.

Apple Marketing Is Probably Its Greatest Product

This might be the most important thing I have learned since writing the original article. Apple's greatest innovation may not be the iPhone. It may be the way Apple markets the iPhone. The company is extraordinarily good at taking complicated technology and reducing it to something people can understand emotionally.

Apple doesn't want you thinking about processor architecture. It wants you to think about what you can do with the processor. It doesn't want you thinking about a camera sensor. It wants you thinking about the photograph. It doesn't want you thinking about a hinge. It wants you thinking about a new way to use your phone. Then it builds an entire theatrical experience around the announcement, from the stage and music to the videos, typography, carefully chosen words, pauses and close-ups.

Even when the underlying technology isn't particularly revolutionary, the presentation makes it feel important. That is brilliant marketing. As someone who has spent most of his career in marketing, I can't really criticize that without criticizing part of my own profession.

Apple is very good at convincing people to want things. That is a skill I can admire while still disliking being on the receiving end of it.

Apple and AI Might Be the Biggest Test Yet

The next question for Apple is even more interesting: AI. For years, Apple could rely on its ability to integrate technology into a polished ecosystem. But AI is different. The industry moved incredibly quickly, and companies that had not traditionally been associated with consumer hardware suddenly became central to the conversation.

Apple has its own AI ambitions, but this is one area where I don't think simply making something beautifully integrated will automatically be enough. Consumers don't care who invented the underlying model. They care whether the thing actually works. If another company can give me a genuinely useful AI assistant and Apple gives me a beautifully designed interface that tells me it will become useful eventually, I know which one I am choosing.

This is why Apple's approach to innovation matters. The company can afford to wait in some categories. It cannot necessarily afford to wait forever. The smartphone market is mature enough that refinement can carry Apple for a long time, but AI is changing too quickly for the company to assume that consumers will patiently wait for Apple to catch up.

I Don't Hate Apple Because It Is Successful

This is important because I know what some people will say after reading this. I don't hate Apple because it is rich. I don't hate Apple because people buy its products. I don't hate Apple because it has loyal customers. I certainly don't hate it because it is American.

I dislike Apple because I think the company has become a perfect representation of something I have always disliked about technology: the ability to convince consumers that incremental improvement is the same thing as progress.

Sometimes it is. Making something 20 percent better can absolutely be what innovation looks like. Improving battery life, reliability, accessibility, performance or durability matters. The world doesn't need every new product to reinvent civilization.

But sometimes I want technology companies to surprise me again. I want someone to make something that makes me ask, "Why didn't anyone do this before?" That was the feeling of the original iPhone. That was the feeling of the first iPad. That was the feeling of seeing early foldable phones, even when some of them were ridiculous.

It is the feeling that makes technology exciting, and I don't get that feeling from Apple very often anymore.

So, Was I Wrong in 2011?

Not entirely. I was wrong about some of the details. I was too harsh about touchscreens. I underestimated Macs. I misunderstood some of Apple's decisions. I probably spent far too much time insulting Apple users. But I don't think I was wrong about the bigger concern.

Apple has always been incredibly good at creating a controlled ecosystem, turning customers into loyal advocates, charging a premium for beautifully designed products and introducing improvements at a pace that encourages people to keep buying. What has changed is the sophistication of the machine.

In 2011, I was complaining about carrier locks, iTunes, missing features and the limitations of the iPhone 4. In 2026, I'm looking at an ecosystem that can encompass your phone, computer, watch, headphones, tablet, cloud storage, payments, subscriptions, photos, passwords, apps and increasingly your AI assistant. That's not less of a walled garden. It's a much better-designed one.

And then there is innovation. The iPhone Duo is perhaps the perfect example. Samsung took the risk of making foldable phones mainstream years ago. The first Galaxy Fold was announced in 2019, and Samsung had already been developing flexible display technology before that. Apple waited until 2026 and then arrived with a highly polished foldable iPhone. I can appreciate the engineering. I can appreciate the design. I can appreciate the marketing. I can even understand why someone would want one.

But I don't have to pretend that Apple just invented the foldable phone. It didn't. And that is increasingly my problem with Apple.

Maybe I Don't Hate Apple. Maybe I Hate What Apple Represents.

Sixteen years after writing the original article, I have a slightly more complicated relationship with Apple. I still dislike the company. I still don't understand why people get emotionally attached to a corporation. I still think Apple charges an enormous premium for the privilege of being inside its ecosystem. I still think its marketing can make relatively small changes feel much more significant than they actually are. I still think Apple has become too comfortable refining existing ideas instead of taking the kind of risks that made the company genuinely exciting. And yes, I still think Apple's fan culture is weird.

But I also have to admit that Apple is extremely good at what it does. Its products are polished. Its ecosystem works. Its marketing is exceptional. Its ability to turn technology into something desirable is almost unmatched. Perhaps that is why I continue to dislike it.

If Apple were a terrible company making terrible products, there would be nothing interesting to say. You could simply ignore it. But Apple is not terrible. It is very, very good. It is good enough to convince people to spend $1,300 on an iPad they eventually use to watch Netflix. It is good enough to enter a category years after its competitors and make everyone suddenly care about foldable phones again. It is good enough to turn customers into unpaid brand ambassadors. It is good enough to make people believe that the latest version of something they already own is somehow essential. And it is good enough to make a marketer like me simultaneously admire the strategy and hate being on the receiving end of it.

So yes, I still hate Apple. I just have better arguments this time.

The Original Article (February 2011)