Apple's iOS 7 isn't for you. But you should upgrade anyway

The secret target of Apple's new iOS releases is developers. But that doesn't mean users don't get benefits.

There's been a pattern with recent versions of iOS, the operating system which runs iPhones and iPads (and iPod Touches, the forgotten bottom rung of Apple's mobile strategy). Users see shiny new features, and upgrade in a rush. Then, after a few weeks of having fun with them, they find that the underlying problems they had with the operating system haven't really gone away, and that the vast majority of the features are more like gimmicks than actual improvements. Increasingly often, the ones which actually do offer something new and useful are done better by a third-party app: that's true of Safari's reading list (try Instapaper or Pocket instead) and of iCloud's… well, everything. (Dropbox offers the same feature set but has a better habit of actually working).

With iOS 7, due to hit on September 10, the "shiny" part of "shiny new features" takes the foreground. The new design has it's fair share of detractors, but if there's one thing it offers in spades, it's the veneer of newness. As a way to make an old phone feel fresh, even for just a couple of weeks, a new UI is perfect. But, of course, it's unlikely to change any problems you have with what your phone does today.

Here's the thing, though: iOS 7 isn't for you. Not really. So it doesn't matter if you get bored within a week of upgrading, so long as you do in fact upgrade. Because Apple needs a lot of users on the latest version of iOS to justify it to developers, the real targets of the new OS.

Every major upgrade of iOS has included a lot of consumer facing features, some more essential than others. But they've also included far more hooks for developers to use when they're making. That goes right back to iPhone OS 2, which introduced the App Store in the first place (in hindsight perhaps the most important software update of the last decade). But even since then, the changes have been relatively major. iPhone OS 3 introduced Core Data, a framework for managing databases; iOS 4 added features letting programmers more easily optimise for multiple processors; iOS 5 added image processing technology; iOS 6 upgraded the application programming interface (API) for dealing with cameras, maps and Facebook.

As well as those changes, there's the same low-grade improvements behind the scenes as there are up front. All of which means that, if you're making an app for the iPhone, it's a lot more pleasant to only have to support the latest version of two of iOS, rather than try and keep up complete backwards compatibility. But the flip-side of only supporting the latest versions is that you lose potential customers, as everyone who hasn't got round to upgrading is locked out.

And that's where the bells and whistles come in. With the new features in every version of iOS, and the effort put into making them backwards compatible with older phones (something which has no immediate payoff, and could even reduce the number of people upgrading to the latest model on release day), Apple manages to ensure that an astonishingly high percentage of customers are on the latest version. Ninety-four per cent of its customers are using iOS 6, and another 5 per cent are on iOS 5. Compare that to Android, where backwards compatibility is often limited (and carriers stand in the way of upgrades): 33 per cent of users are on Gingerbread, a release which came out over two and a half years ago. The latest version of Jelly Bean, which was released in July this year, has been adopted by so few that, as of August 1, Google wasn't even reporting numbers. The version before, released in November 2012, has just 6.5 per cent take up. It is only two months newer than iOS 6.

That coherence of the user base is a large part of the reason why iOS is considered preferable to develop for by many programmers (other reasons include iOS users increased tendency to spend money on things, and developers wanting to make apps for the phones they use); and that is why, despite Android having a far higher share of total smartphone users, iOS continues to get many large apps first or even exclusively.

So even though iOS 7 isn't for you, you'll get its benefit eventually. Just wait and look at the pretty colours in the meantime.

An iPhone running iOS 7. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

Photo: Getty
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We argue over Charlie Gard, but forget those spending whole lives caring for a disabled child

The everyday misery of care work is hidden behind abstract arguments over life and death.

“Sometimes,” says the mother, “I wish we’d let him go. Or that he’d just been allowed to slip away.” The father agrees, sometimes. So too does the child, who is not a child any more.

On good days, nobody thinks this way, but not all days are good. There have been bright spots during the course of the past four decades, occasional moments of real hope, but now everyone is tired, everyone is old and the mundane work of loving takes a ferocious toll.

When we talk about caring for sick children, we usually mean minors. It’s easiest that way. That for some parents, the exhaustion and intensity of those first days with a newborn never, ever ends – that you can be in your fifties, sixties, seventies, caring for a child in their twenties, thirties, forties – is not something the rest of us want to think about.

It’s hard to romanticise devotion strung out over that many hopeless, sleepless nights. Better to imagine the tragic mother holding on to the infant who still fits in her loving arms, not the son who’s now twice her size, himself edging towards middle-age and the cliff edge that comes when mummy’s no longer around.

Writing on the tragic case of Charlie Gard, the Guardian’s Giles Fraser claims that he would “rain fire on the whole world to hold my child for a day longer”. The Gard case, he argues, has “set the cool rational compassion of judicial judgement and clinical expertise against the passion of parental love”: “Which is why those who have never smelled the specific perfume of Charlie’s neck, those who have never held him tight or wept and prayed over his welfare, are deemed better placed to determine how he is to live and die.”

This may be true. It may also be true that right now, countless parents who have smelled their own child’s specific perfume, held them tightly, wept for them, loved them beyond all measure, are wishing only for that child’s suffering to end. What of their love? What of their reluctance to set the world aflame for one day more? And what of their need for a life of their own, away from the fantasies of those who’ll passionately defend a parent’s right to keep their child alive but won’t be there at 5am, night after night, cleaning out feeding tubes and mopping up shit?

Parental – in particular, maternal – devotion is seen as an endlessly renewable resource. A real parent never gets tired of loving. A real parent never wonders whether actually, all things considered, it might have caused less suffering for a child never to have been born at all. Such thoughts are impermissible, not least because they’re dangerous. Everyone’s life matters. Nonetheless, there are parents who have these thoughts, not because they don’t love their children, but because they do.

Reporting on the Gard case reminds me of the sanitised image we have of what constitutes the life of a parent of a sick child. It’s impossible not to feel enormous compassion for Charlie’s parents. As the mother of a toddler, I know that in a similar situation I’d have been torn apart. It’s not difficult to look at photos of Charlie and imagine one’s own child in his place. All babies are small and helpless; all babies cry out to be held.

But attitudes change as children get older. In the case of my own family, I noticed a real dropping away of support for my parents and disabled brother as the latter moved into adulthood. There were people who briefly picked him up as a kind of project and then, upon realising that there would be no schmaltzy ending to the story, dropped him again. Love and compassion don’t conquer all, patience runs out and dignity is clearly best respected from a distance.

All too often, the everyday misery of care work is hidden behind abstract arguments over who gets the right to decide whether an individual lives or dies. I don’t know any parents who truly want that right. Not only would it be morally untenable, it’s also a misrepresentation of what their struggles really are and mean.

What many parents who remain lifelong carers need is adequate respite support, a space in which to talk honestly, and the recognition that actually, sometimes loving is a grim and hopeless pursuit. Those who romanticise parental love – who, like Fraser, wallow in heroic portrayals of “battling, devoted parents” – do nothing to alleviate the suffering of those whose love mingles with resentment, exhaustion and sheer loneliness.

There are parents out there who, just occasionally, would be willing to set the world on fire to have a day’s respite from loving. But regardless of whether your child lives or dies, love never ends. 

Glosswitch is a feminist mother of three who works in publishing.