Two of Apple's first new products of 2021: AirTag and the purple iPhone 12.
Update 4/26: Changed the headline to read ‘“Spring Loaded’’ referencing Apple’s event tagline.
Benjamin Franklin famously quipped there are two certainties in life: death and taxes.
Add a third: Every Apple product, whether tangible or digital, will have accessibility built in. It is a certainty the company conceives, develops, and introduces new hardware (and software) with the disability community in mind. The sentiment rang true yet again at the tech titan’s “Spring Loaded” virtual event streamed last week from Apple Park. Every product Apple announced that Tuesday morning—redesigned iMacs, an all-new Siri Remote, spectacularly powerful iPad Pros, and AirTag—all have significant ramifications for accessibility. To critique these products and tell their stories, accessibility is a crucial part of the equation that contextualizes them far beyond marketing strategy or workflow or raw compute power. This context provides fuller insight not only to the people who made the products, but more importantly, to the people whose successful use of the devices hinge on a panoply of circumstances.
Apple sent me review units of both the purple iPhone 12 Mini and AirTags with their accessories. What follows are my thoughts on each as they pertain to accessibility.
The Purple iPhone is Pretty (Small)
First things first: To echo TechCrunch’s Matthew Panzarino’s thoughts, the new more-lavender-than-purple hue of the iPhone 12 is stunningly beautiful. Apple’s product marketing shots are always gorgeous, but it’s something to behold in person. Anecdotally, family and friends who have seen mine have remarked on what a looker it is; my girlfriend was particularly enthused by the color and size of the 12 Mini, saying “Oh my gosh, I want this phone!” It’s a lovely way to revitalize sales mid-cycle.
One of the major considerations of last year’s iPhone 12 line was how the phone’s new industrial design could affect those with fine-motor delays—how it feels to pick up the device, hold it, and carry it around. For my review, I tested both the iPhone 12 and iPhone 12 Pro, but missed spectrum bookends in the Mini and Pro Max. (I would eventually get a Pro Max for my personal use.) Several months later, what I wrote last fall remains true this spring: the 12 Mini is most interesting from an accessibility perspective, the iPhone Goldilocks might choose if she wanted one that fit just right.
As a Plus/Pro Max devotee, booting up the Mini for the first time is quite the jarring experience. As a physical object, the device is a pleasure to hold. It feels similar to the budget iPhone SE, but even better—the way one can use it one-handed and effortlessly slip into a pocket hearkens back to iPhones of yore. To wholly appreciate the Mini is a matter of perspective; you must want an ergonomically-friendly phone or want the best of both attributes: ergonomics and screen size in a svelte package. From an accessibility point of view, it’s the latter choice that makes the Mini so appealing.
For many, the Mini may be the perfect device if a small form factor is necessary for maximum comfort and maneuverability in hand. The phone’s 5.4-inch screen is sufficiently large enough to see everything without much compromise. In this sense, then, the Mini is arguably the Platonic ideal of iPhones: compact yet large, the quintessential pocket computer. It’s not at all hard to see the Mini’s allure.
There was a time when I would have jumped for joy at a phone like the Mini, but that time has long passed. What made booting up the Mini so jarring was noticing how minuscule the screen feels compared to that of the aircraft carrier-sized Pro Max. The Mini’s is eminently usable—in an alternate timeline where the Plus/Pro Max lines never existed, I could be perfectly content with the Mini—but I vastly prefer the Max’s expansive display. If, like me, you are Blind or low vision, the Max’s screen size is more than worth taking on the Faustian bargain of using such an unwieldy physical object. The Max is not for the faint of hand (or pocket), but its tradeoff is one I’m happily willing to make every year as long as Apple makes supersized iPhones.
Despite the Mini’s form factor not being for me, it’s easy to appreciate the device for what it is. It’s a great smartphone that now is available in a great color to boot.
Assessing AirTag
In their first look coverage of AirTag, some reviewers have taken jabs at Apple for making the puck-shaped Bluetooth tracker yet another way to trap people into the company’s sticky web of an ecosystem. AirTag is more expensive than a competitor like Tile, and Android users obviously don’t get the niceties of the tracker’s airtight integration with iPhones. While it’s fair to carp on price, it is baffling to ding the AirTag for preferring nepotism—of course Apple is going to optimize their products to work best within its own universe. In other news, water is wet and the sky is blue.
This is noteworthy because every early impressions piece or full review of Apple products from mainstream publications always omit accessibility as a means to critique a product. Take the AirTag’s price, for instance. At $29, they are costlier than Tile, but consider the upside from a disability standpoint. In choosing AirTag, a disabled person gets far more than the aforementioned luxuries of being “part of the family,” so to speak. For a Blind person who wants to keep track of their keys, Tile neither has support for VoiceOver nor haptic feedback to assist in location. It does play a sound, but otherwise is fairly inaccessible. Conversely, by virtue of controlling the entire stack, Apple created AirTag to work seamlessly with VoiceOver as well as haptics. You can even ask Siri to find an item. This differentiation is not insignificant; of course Apple aims to leverage its own technologies. More to the point, the company prioritizes accessibility. In the same way a disabled person might choose an Apple TV over a Roku or Fire TV for streaming because of accessibility, it’s reasonable to surmise that same person may also choose AirTag over Tile in part because of its assistive technology. Put another way, paying Apple’s premium prices has the potential to pay off in ways most tech journalists (understandably) lack the foresight to ponder. It’s paradoxical, but there can be real cost to saving money; to buy a less expensive device that ostensibly does the same thing, albeit inaccessibly, is foolish.
Everyone knows Apple cares deeply for the disability community. What everyone doesn’t know—unless they’re disabled themselves—is the extent to which accessibility makes or breaks the user experience for a disabled person. How accessible something is (or isn’t) has lasting, rippling effects on our perception of technology—or anything else in life. That’s why accessibility matters so much—it shapes our view of the world.
Not all people with disabilities can afford Apple products; for those who can and do, however, the so-called “Apple Tax” is justified over similar alternatives because Apple puts so much time and effort into crafting best-of-breed accessibility software. AirTag is no different—it’s pricier than the competition, but also infinitely more accessible. That holds a lot of weight to a lot of people. This is especially true given Apple and Tile’s respective products do the same job; AirTag does it with more style and flair.
As an object, AirTag meets expectations. It’s pretty run-of-the-mill Apple in terms of build quality. It’s small and lightweight, definitely easy to throw into a bag or attach to a keychain. I put one on a leather keychain Apple included in my reviewer’s kit; it was easy for me to open the button and slip the disc inside. How adept you are at doing this will largely depend upon the level of your fine-motor skills. The same goes for swapping the CR2032 battery, the life of which Apple says should last about a year.
The process by which you pair an AirTag to your iPhone is identical to how AirPods are paired, for example. A single tap does the job, which is another key advantage Apple has over something like Tile. Broadly speaking, the AirTag user interface in the Find My app strikes me as something that could (will?) be even more useful (and convenient) on a future pair of, say, AR-powered glasses. Using your phone to locate items works well, particularly since our phones are practically appendages. Still, it’s not difficult to imagine how great the software will be once the information is literally in front of your face. Apple won’t acknowledge it, let alone off the record, but it’s sensible nonetheless to presume this is not lost on those toiling away in the R&D labs.
In practice, AirTag works exactly as Apple advertised. The biggest wins in terms of accessibility are twofold. First, users get bimodal sensory input: the beeping sound and haptic buzz as you move closer to your object. The tactile feedback gets more prominent as you gain in proximity. You needn’t have a medical condition to benefit from this double dose assault on the senses, but if you do, the combination is extremely helpful. In my brief testing, it was a real treat to have my phone “tap” me as I inched towards the keys I purposely misplaced for journalism’s sake. Secondly, the UI for finding objects is high contrast with large text and a ginormous arrow. Even someone like me with low vision could easily see how many feet away I was from my keys and follow along in the direction the arrow pointed. It’s good accessible design.
Taken together, AirTag works impressively well. Even after a brief period noodling around with them, it feels appropriate to say Apple’s tiny tracker is the best of its kind ever made from an accessibility perspective. They have a level of thoughtfulness and polish that Tile (and others) can’t easily match; it’s a testament to Apple’s empathy and sensibility towards building life-changing solutions for people of all abilities.
