Apple plays to the middle market with colourful iPhones

A play-safe appeal to Apple fans with a traditional, higher-specification upgrade.

Seasoned Apple watchers will have successfully predicted nearly all the hardware in the two new iPhones that have just been unveiled by CEO Tim Cook in a hotly anticipated presentation. But while one model conforms to the tried-and-tested tech upgrade trajectory we have seen in recent years, the other is a bit more of a mould-breaker – not least because it’s made largely out of plastic.

Sticking to the familiar two-year lifecycle in iPhone designs, Apple has upgraded the iPhone 5 to the 5S. This comes with a few hardware tweaks – most notably a significantly increased performance thanks to the newly developed A7 processor which is as powerful as that found in a desktop computer. It has tapped into the burgeoning market for health and fitness add-ons by including a distinct M7 chip, designed to efficiently (continuously) measure motion data. Until now, this had been a big drain on battery life.

The tradition of Apple bringing what were once expensive professional level features to the consumer market continues. Following on from face and voice recognition in iPhoto and Siri, we now have the introduction of a fingerprint reader on the phone. This combines high security with ease by allowing the phone to be unlocked with a single touch from the right person’s finger. Whether this is just a fad will be for the market to decide.

Security is at the forefront of many minds these days when it comes to technology purchases. Apple made no promises about stopping government security agencies from reading all your tweets and emails, but it has promised that fingerprints will not be stored on its databases, which should allay concerns about the NSA getting its hands on even more personal information about you.

The 5S also has a better camera lens, and flash and camera software are combined to offer better pictures, slo-mo video and better low light pictures. For a touch of glamour, you can get your 5S in gold as well as the traditional white and black.

But the foray into colour doesn’t end there. The iPhone 5C, announced alongside the 5S can be yours in green, yellow, blue, white or pink, if you’re willing to overlook the slightly odd Connect Four-style cutouts on the back of the case.

The iPhone 5C is significantly different. Some of the prestige hardware has been replaced with polycarbonate to cut costs so Apple can sell a 16GB version for $99 (although you’ll be locked into a two-year contract). Apple’s previous strategy entailed selling last year’s model at a cheaper price in order to maintain demand for the newer product. Whether there is a big enough differentiation between the 5C and the high-end product is difficult to predict, but the price tag suggests that they will sell.

Observers like to carry out “teardowns” of technology products to work out profit margins based on the cost of a device’s component parts. Teardowns of last year’s cheaper iPad mini seem to suggest that although profit margins may have been down on earlier models, Apple maintained its 50-58% margin on each device. It would be no surprise to discover that Apple has found a way to apply these manufacturing techniques in this cheaper iPhone while maintaining the same build quality and margins.

The 5C seems to be directly targeted at the midrange sector and emerging markets, which are currently dominated by Android phones. In a nod to the importance of emerging markets, Apple will release the new phones in China on 20 September, at the same time as launching them in the US and the UK, meaning Chinese Apple fans won’t have to wait any longer. That said, phones that have succeeded in the Chinese market before now typically have a wider screen size than Apple is offering.

Are the new features of the iPhone 5S enough to make it worth upgrading? If you currently have an iPhone 5 then probably not, although you could sell on your old device to offset the cost of switching. Many consumers will be coming out of an 18-24 month contract soon and may be sitting on iPhone 4 or 4S models – the longer screen, better battery life and camera may be enough of an inducement to switch to the new versions.

Alternatively, owners of iPhone 4 4S and 5 models have been promised an operating system upgrade at the end of this month, which will be like getting a new phone. This will be the first software that Johnny Ive has had a hand in designing following Apple’s reorganisation. The upgrade radically changes the interface, refreshes the apps and offers different features, something which has not occurred in any previous update. Anticipating that this degree of change may be a shock for some consumers, so Apple is reportedly prepping its online and instore support for those suffering from iOSTSD (iOS Traumatic Stress Disorder).

So, it’s nods to the middle and eyes to the East with the new iPhone launch but also a play-safe appeal to Apple fans with a traditional, higher-specification upgrade. Which version of the new iPhone is the bigger success may dictate future directions for the company.

Barry Avery does not work for, consult to, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has no relevant affiliations.

The Conversation

This article was originally published at The Conversation. Read the original article.

Apple chief executive Tim Cook praises the new iPhone 5S as the most refined model the company has ever introduced. Photo: AFP/Getty Images
Barry Avery is a Principal Lecturer in Informatics and Operations at Kingston University.
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In defence of orientalism, the case against Twenty20, and why Ken should watch Son of Saul

My week, from Age Concern to anti-semitism.

Returning late from a party I never much wanted to go to, I leap up and down in the middle of the Harrow Road in the hope of flagging down a taxi, but the drivers don’t notice me. Either they’re haring down the fast lane or they’re too preoccupied cursing Uber to one another on their mobile phones. My father drove a black cab, so I have a deep loyalty to them. But there’s nothing like being left stranded in NW10 in the dead of night to make one reconsider one’s options. I just wish Uber wasn’t called Uber.

Just not cricket

Tired and irritable, I spend the next day watching sport on television – snooker, darts, cricket, anything I can find. But I won’t be following the Indian Premier League’s Twenty20 cricket again. It’s greedy, cynical, over-sponsored and naff. Whenever somebody hits a boundary, cheerleaders in cast-off gym kit previously worn by fourth-form Roedean girls wave tinsel mops.

Matches go to the final over where they’re decided in a thrashathon of sixes hit by mercenaries wielding bats as wide as shovels. Why, in that case, don’t both teams just play a final over each and dispense with the previous 19? I can’t wait for the elegant ennui of a five-day Test match.

Stop! Culture police!

I go to the Delacroix exhibition at the National Gallery to shake off the sensation of all-consuming kitsch. Immediately I realise I have always confused Delacroix with someone else but I can’t decide who. Maybe Jacques-Louis David. The show convincingly argues that Delacroix influenced every artist who came after him except Jeff Koons, who in that case must have been influenced by David. It’s turbulent, moody work, some of the best of it, again to my surprise, being religious painting with the religion taken out. Christ’s followers lamenting his death don’t appear to be expecting miracles. This is a man they loved, cruelly executed. The colours are the colours of insupportable grief.

I love the show but wish the curators hadn’t felt they must apologise for Delacroix finding the North Africans he painted “exotic”. Cultural studies jargon screams from the wall. You can hear the lecturer inveighing against the “appropriating colonial gaze” – John Berger and Edward Said taking all the fun out of marvelling at what’s foreign and desirable. I find myself wondering where they’d stand on the Roedean cheer-leaders of Mumbai.

Taking leave of the senses

My wife drags me to a play at Age Concern’s headquarters in Bloomsbury. When I see where she’s taking me I wonder if she plans to leave me there. The play is called Don’t Leave Me Now and is written by Brian Daniels. It is, to keep it simple, about the effects of dementia on the families and lovers of sufferers. I am not, in all honesty, expecting a good time. It is a reading only, the actors sitting in a long line like a board of examiners, and the audience hunched forward in the attitude of the professionally caring.  My wife is a therapist so this is her world.

Here, unlike in my study, an educated empathy prevails and no one is furious. I fear that art is going to get lost in good intention. But the play turns out to be subtly powerful, sympathetic and sharp, sad and funny; and hearing it read engages me as seeing it performed might not have done. Spared the spectacle of actors throwing their bodies around and singing about their dreams against a backdrop painted by a lesser, Les Mis version of Delacroix, you can concentrate on the words. And where dementia is the villain, words are priceless.

Mixing with the proles

In Bloomsbury again the next day for a bank holiday design and craft fair at Mary Ward House. I have a soft spot for craft fairs, having helped run a craft shop once, and I feel a kinship with the designers sitting bored behind their stalls, answering inane questions about kilns and receiving empty compliments. But it’s the venue that steals the show, a lovely Arts and Crafts house, founded in the 1890s by the novelist Mary Ward with the intention of enabling the wealthy and educated to live among the poor and introduce them to the consolations of beauty and knowledge. We’d call that patronising. We’re wrong. It’s a high ideal, to ease the burden of poverty and ignorance and, in Ward’s words, save us from “the darker, coarser temptations of our human road”.

An Oscar-winning argument for Zionism

Speaking of which, I am unable to empty my mind of Ken Livingstone and his apologists as I sit in the cinema and watch the just-released Academy Award-winning Son of Saul, a devastating film about one prisoner’s attempt to hold on to a vestige of humanity in a Nazi death camp. If you think you know of hell from Dante or Michelangelo, think again. The inferno bodied forth in Son of Saul is no theological apportioning of justice or deserts. It is the evisceration of meaning, the negation of every grand illusion about itself mankind has ever harboured. There has been a fashion, lately, to invoke Gaza as proof that the Holocaust is a lesson that Jews failed to learn – as though one cruelty drives out another, as though suffering is forfeit, and as though we, the observers, must choose between horrors.

I defy even Livingstone to watch this film, in which the Jews, once gassed, become “pieces” – Stücke – and not grasp the overwhelming case for a Jewish place of refuge. Zionism pre-dated the camps, and its fulfilment, if we can call it that, came too late for those millions reduced to the grey powder mountains the Sonderkommandos were tasked with sweeping away. It diminishes one’s sympathy for the Palestinian cause not a jot to recognise the arguments, in a world of dehumanising hate, for Zionism. Indeed, not to recognise those arguments is to embrace the moral insentience whose murderous consequence Son of Saul confronts with numbed horror. 

This article first appeared in the 06 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The longest hatred