Something I've struggled with as I've gotten older is the curse of developing a conscience. I've become aware that my actions, simply by dint of being born and living in the West, have consequences.
While I feel utterly powerless to do anything significant to change the world for the better, I have become wracked with a sense that I should at least stop being complicit in things which make life worse for others.
I realise that the way I've lived until now has had repercussions for the rest of the world. My partner and youngest daughter are vegan, and I've been unable to avoid their endless discussions about ethical eating, and it has resulted in my own conscience getting a kick up the backside.
Unfortunately, I don't have anywhere near the strength of will to give up eating meat - the thought of never again having a bacon sandwich or a lovely, medium-rare steak covered in blue cheese sauce - makes my stomach perform a cartwheel, while shouting "Feeeeeeed meeeeee!".
It would require me to unpick 45 years of being borderline carnivore, and I'm not ready to do that yet. But I sort of want to, because I know enough about the meat industry to know that it's incredibly wrong, and bad for the planet, and bad for the animals in their cages... and actually quitting meat would be like trying to slow down an oil tanker with a ping pong ball on the end of a stick.
Consequently, I'm haunted by this sort of low-level buzz of guilt, that's with me at all times. And it's not just about what I eat. I mean, I had a pang of worry recently, when I suddenly feared that our Digitiser t-shirts might've been made in sweatshops. I'm actually a bit scared to check.
However, talking of sweatshops, I bought an iPhone 7 last week.
While I feel utterly powerless to do anything significant to change the world for the better, I have become wracked with a sense that I should at least stop being complicit in things which make life worse for others.
I realise that the way I've lived until now has had repercussions for the rest of the world. My partner and youngest daughter are vegan, and I've been unable to avoid their endless discussions about ethical eating, and it has resulted in my own conscience getting a kick up the backside.
Unfortunately, I don't have anywhere near the strength of will to give up eating meat - the thought of never again having a bacon sandwich or a lovely, medium-rare steak covered in blue cheese sauce - makes my stomach perform a cartwheel, while shouting "Feeeeeeed meeeeee!".
It would require me to unpick 45 years of being borderline carnivore, and I'm not ready to do that yet. But I sort of want to, because I know enough about the meat industry to know that it's incredibly wrong, and bad for the planet, and bad for the animals in their cages... and actually quitting meat would be like trying to slow down an oil tanker with a ping pong ball on the end of a stick.
Consequently, I'm haunted by this sort of low-level buzz of guilt, that's with me at all times. And it's not just about what I eat. I mean, I had a pang of worry recently, when I suddenly feared that our Digitiser t-shirts might've been made in sweatshops. I'm actually a bit scared to check.
However, talking of sweatshops, I bought an iPhone 7 last week.
MULTICOLOURED SWEAT SHOP
You've probably heard the stories about how the factories where iPhones are made are covered in netting, to stop the workers flinging themselves to their deaths.
Moral crusaders allege that working conditions are terrible, because China doesn't have the same sorts of regulations which protect workers in the West.
The people who make our phones are paid next to nothing to do so, and work for up to ten hours a day ensuring the screens are all shiny... only for our greasy fingers to make such effort redundant the second we pluck them out of the box.
Apple, like so many other huge companies, is taking advantage of all that - much as it takes advantage of tax loopholes, which means this multi-billion dollar corporation paid probably less tax in the last five years than I have in the last five months.
Through passive culpability and consumer brainwashing, we in the West exploit people in the less developed world as much as we exploit animals for their delicious meat. We turn a blind eye, because we want the shiny, tasty things more than we want a country full of people we've never met to be able to afford to feed their children, or animals other than ourselves to roam free in fields like they're meant to.
And I'm saying all this, despite being an Apple fanboy in as much as I own a MacBook, Apple TV, and the latest iPhone. I'm culpable, and partially responsible, as much as all of us are, and it's entirely down to my own weakness of character.
Indeed, I'm worse even than people who are ignorant to where their iPhones come from: at least they have that excuse. What's mine? I try to ignore the reality, for the sake of having a bunch of connected technology which makes all my photos and apps available on all of them simultaneously.
I'm a monster... a literal monster.
You've probably heard the stories about how the factories where iPhones are made are covered in netting, to stop the workers flinging themselves to their deaths.
Moral crusaders allege that working conditions are terrible, because China doesn't have the same sorts of regulations which protect workers in the West.
The people who make our phones are paid next to nothing to do so, and work for up to ten hours a day ensuring the screens are all shiny... only for our greasy fingers to make such effort redundant the second we pluck them out of the box.
Apple, like so many other huge companies, is taking advantage of all that - much as it takes advantage of tax loopholes, which means this multi-billion dollar corporation paid probably less tax in the last five years than I have in the last five months.
Through passive culpability and consumer brainwashing, we in the West exploit people in the less developed world as much as we exploit animals for their delicious meat. We turn a blind eye, because we want the shiny, tasty things more than we want a country full of people we've never met to be able to afford to feed their children, or animals other than ourselves to roam free in fields like they're meant to.
And I'm saying all this, despite being an Apple fanboy in as much as I own a MacBook, Apple TV, and the latest iPhone. I'm culpable, and partially responsible, as much as all of us are, and it's entirely down to my own weakness of character.
Indeed, I'm worse even than people who are ignorant to where their iPhones come from: at least they have that excuse. What's mine? I try to ignore the reality, for the sake of having a bunch of connected technology which makes all my photos and apps available on all of them simultaneously.
I'm a monster... a literal monster.
IMPORTANT QUESTION
The really important question here, however, is whether my iPhone 7 is any good as a new phone. And the answer to that question is: it's alright.
At the moment, I can't tell much difference between it and my iPhone 6, other than the fact that my screen isn't shattered. Admittedly, it doesn't have a headphone socket, but I never listened to music on my iPhone anyway, so I have precisely zero intention of spending close to £200 on those stupid wireless earphones.
The camera is supposedly a bit better, but I can't really tell. And apparently, the processor is more powerful than the last one, but that's hardly going to make much of a difference to the few basic games I play on it. Battery-life seems about the same; it lasts all day, so long as I'm not actually using it for anything.
They tell us that it's water-resistant, but I'm not about to pour a cup of coffee on it to find out, and the home button is now grafted to the case, and doesn't actually click. It uses Apple's "Taptic" feedback, to tap back when I press it, like there's the soul of a dead Chinese sweatshop worker trapped inside. Candidly, I'm not sure I like it.
It even looks much the same as my last iPhone, and only complete idiots are going to get excited about the fact they've made the antenna strips slightly more subtle. The one real difference I've noted is in the new iOS 10 software, which I could've had on my iPhone 6 anyway. I can now send balloons with my text messages, or draw little pictures.
What baffles me is that the main thing people seem to be excited about is that one of the new models comes in a sort of shiny black casing. It's the technology equivalent of that Simpsons episode where Smithers queues up to get a new Malibu Stacey doll, because it comes with a new hat. Aren't we all just going to cover it with a protective case anyway?
Bottom line: I regret upgrading. It cost me £200 - that I can ill afford - to pay off my old contract, and in the process I appear to have inadvertently signed up to that new deal whereby I'm going to get a new iPhone every year until I die. I'm a sucker. I'm a massive sucker. I am the human lamprey.
Indeed, I'm so locked into the Apple ecosystem now - I've bought so many things from their Apple Store, and all of it only exists so long as I stay shackled to their contracts. Should I ever step away, I'd lose all my music and photos, unless I want to take my phone to Boots, and get them all printed at the cost of thousands of pounds.
I'm screwed, and Apple, with their tax dodging and their smugness, is laughing in my face.
The really important question here, however, is whether my iPhone 7 is any good as a new phone. And the answer to that question is: it's alright.
At the moment, I can't tell much difference between it and my iPhone 6, other than the fact that my screen isn't shattered. Admittedly, it doesn't have a headphone socket, but I never listened to music on my iPhone anyway, so I have precisely zero intention of spending close to £200 on those stupid wireless earphones.
The camera is supposedly a bit better, but I can't really tell. And apparently, the processor is more powerful than the last one, but that's hardly going to make much of a difference to the few basic games I play on it. Battery-life seems about the same; it lasts all day, so long as I'm not actually using it for anything.
They tell us that it's water-resistant, but I'm not about to pour a cup of coffee on it to find out, and the home button is now grafted to the case, and doesn't actually click. It uses Apple's "Taptic" feedback, to tap back when I press it, like there's the soul of a dead Chinese sweatshop worker trapped inside. Candidly, I'm not sure I like it.
It even looks much the same as my last iPhone, and only complete idiots are going to get excited about the fact they've made the antenna strips slightly more subtle. The one real difference I've noted is in the new iOS 10 software, which I could've had on my iPhone 6 anyway. I can now send balloons with my text messages, or draw little pictures.
What baffles me is that the main thing people seem to be excited about is that one of the new models comes in a sort of shiny black casing. It's the technology equivalent of that Simpsons episode where Smithers queues up to get a new Malibu Stacey doll, because it comes with a new hat. Aren't we all just going to cover it with a protective case anyway?
Bottom line: I regret upgrading. It cost me £200 - that I can ill afford - to pay off my old contract, and in the process I appear to have inadvertently signed up to that new deal whereby I'm going to get a new iPhone every year until I die. I'm a sucker. I'm a massive sucker. I am the human lamprey.
Indeed, I'm so locked into the Apple ecosystem now - I've bought so many things from their Apple Store, and all of it only exists so long as I stay shackled to their contracts. Should I ever step away, I'd lose all my music and photos, unless I want to take my phone to Boots, and get them all printed at the cost of thousands of pounds.
I'm screwed, and Apple, with their tax dodging and their smugness, is laughing in my face.
ROTTEN APPLE
So, I hate Apple now. I hate owning so many Apple products, and yet I continue to do so. Unless I can extricate myself from the ruddy contract I'm now locked into, I'm going to continue to do so for the foreseeable future.
When the first iPhone came out it was sufficiently cool and different for me to overlook any ethical concerns. Or, rather, my excitement at getting some sort of Star Trek gadget thing drowned out the protestations of my shrieking conscience.
At the behest of Steve Jobs, Apple created a brand which felt as if it was the future. With his quasi-zen persona, he built the company in his projected image - the feeling was that Apple were changing and improving the world. We never really stopped to ask what the real cost of all that was, and I feel like I've been suckered into a religious cult by stealth. Like any cult, you don't realise what you're a part of until it's too late.
Now I just feel robbed and exploited. The phones are dull comparison to their predecessors - and, indeed, other makes and models on the market - and the annual updates feel as cynical as the decision not to bundle the wireless earphones in the box.
When it comes down to all that, the curtain falls away, and I can't help but think of the phone's point of origin, and then I come back around to the guilt. It feels like I'm stuck in an abusive, co-dependent relationship with someone who is spending all my money and cheating on me, while I'm flapping around them trying to make them happy. Everything has its breaking point, and I think I might've reached mine.
So, I hate Apple now. I hate owning so many Apple products, and yet I continue to do so. Unless I can extricate myself from the ruddy contract I'm now locked into, I'm going to continue to do so for the foreseeable future.
When the first iPhone came out it was sufficiently cool and different for me to overlook any ethical concerns. Or, rather, my excitement at getting some sort of Star Trek gadget thing drowned out the protestations of my shrieking conscience.
At the behest of Steve Jobs, Apple created a brand which felt as if it was the future. With his quasi-zen persona, he built the company in his projected image - the feeling was that Apple were changing and improving the world. We never really stopped to ask what the real cost of all that was, and I feel like I've been suckered into a religious cult by stealth. Like any cult, you don't realise what you're a part of until it's too late.
Now I just feel robbed and exploited. The phones are dull comparison to their predecessors - and, indeed, other makes and models on the market - and the annual updates feel as cynical as the decision not to bundle the wireless earphones in the box.
When it comes down to all that, the curtain falls away, and I can't help but think of the phone's point of origin, and then I come back around to the guilt. It feels like I'm stuck in an abusive, co-dependent relationship with someone who is spending all my money and cheating on me, while I'm flapping around them trying to make them happy. Everything has its breaking point, and I think I might've reached mine.
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