The iPad And The Question Of What A Computer Is

Apple announced the iPad on January 27, 2010 and began selling Wi-Fi models on April 3. The device starts at $499 for 16GB. It runs a version of iPhone OS 3.2 on an Apple A4 chip. It has a 9.7-inch multi-touch display at 1024×768 pixels. It has no camera, no USB port, no SD card slot, no Flash support. Applications are installed only through the App Store.

The most interesting question the iPad raises for me is not whether it is a large phone or a small laptop. It is: what do we actually require before we call something a computer?

What it removes

A traditional personal computer gives the user a filesystem, a process model, multiple input methods, arbitrary software installation, and the ability to see and manage what is happening at multiple layers of the system. This control creates both power and complexity. Most users who are not professional administrators spend some meaningful fraction of their time dealing with the complexity rather than benefiting from the power — managing updates, handling file organization, troubleshooting application conflicts, configuring settings.

The iPad removes most of this surface. Files are not a concept that the user manages directly; applications handle their own storage. Multitasking is simplified. Software comes from a curated store rather than arbitrary downloads. A user cannot install an application from a random website, cannot access the filesystem directly, cannot run background processes without specific system-level support.

Steve Jobs, during the announcement, described the iPad as fitting in a category between smartphones and laptops — handling some tasks better than either. He listed web browsing, email, photographs, video, music, games, and digital books as the primary use cases.

What this means in practice

Reading, browsing, watching video, and casual application use feel natural on the iPad because the display is the direct interface — there is no mouse between the hand and the object on the screen. This is an improvement over the laptop for these activities: more direct, easier to hold in various positions, lower weight.

The question is whether the model extends to creation. Writing long documents, programming, editing video, managing many files, or working with multiple applications simultaneously still feels more comfortable on a device with a keyboard, a cursor, and a full OS. The iPad in April 2010 does not have a good answer for these tasks.

The argument could go two ways. The iPad might develop better tools for creation over time — keyboard attachments, more powerful apps, more capable multitasking. Or it might establish a category that does not try to replace the laptop, instead occupying the space for the large class of computing needs that do not require full PC capabilities.

The broader question

The iPad also raises a policy question that is just getting started. When a manufacturer controls the only legal way to install software on a device, they have a kind of gatekeeping power that did not exist in previous computing. This is a deliberate design choice, and it has advantages for reliability and security. It also concentrates a new kind of authority over software distribution.

When a technology becomes mature, we stop asking what it is. The iPad in April 2010 still feels open enough that the argument itself is part of the experience.