Apple’s new commercial shows an array of artistic objects crushed under the pressure of a mechanical compactor. The crushing strength of the compactor slowly presses against paint buckets, musical instruments, sketchbooks, journals, sculptures, recording sets, and camera lenses. Each object collapses under the weight of the compactor as they are crushed out of existence, utterly dismembered into nothing. The commercial ends with the reveal of the all-new iPad Pro emerging from the destruction of these tools.

At a glance, Apple’s commercial “Crush!” is a clever way of saying the new iPad Pro does it all. In the context of the video’s visuals, the word “crush” is the literal pressing and squeezing of objects to render them destroyed, deformed, and non-existent. The final reveal of the iPad emerging from the destruction signifies the transcendence of the objects destroyed into the digital sphere. The ad faced an avalanche of criticism from the public, who, according to a New York Times article, were “grossed out and offended.” This sentiment is rooted in a deep disillusionment with the tech industry and their “monopolistic business practices” (Baker 3). People are beginning to perceive technology less as a facilitator of creativity than as a challenger to it. In this sense, the ad is strikingly accurate. It does not just announce a product, but it also depicts our present—and most disturbingly, our future. In other words, technology is crushing our material world, destroying the objects that stabilize and shape our lives.

As we transition to a digitized world, we face great dangers to our fundamental values as humans. The rise of the digital age is much like the mechanical compactor that slowly crushes our objects and thereafter our stability. Our physical world is being crushed out of existence, deforming our sense of shared humanity. The elimination of this foundational value that keeps us together presents significant threats to the bedrock of our democracy. There cannot be a democracy without humanity.

Apple’s “Crush!” ad could very well be used to promote Byung-Chul Han’s brilliant and eloquent book Non-Things. Han warns that “today’s world is fading away and becoming information” (preface). This new digital order distorts the terrestrial order of the earth, which is realized through “things that take a permanent form” (1). In the terrestrial order, “things” anchor our existence insofar as they nurture “a stable environment for dwelling” (Han 1). However, this order is being crushed, deformed, and phased out by a new digital order. This is the disturbing truth behind Apple’s “Crush!”: the transition from a terrestrial order consisting of physical objects that take “permanent form” (Han 1) to a digital order composed of non-things, which are “embodied” by information. This new digital order is equivalent to the brand-new iPad emerging from the mechanical compactor after all objects were crushed. The new order is characterized by information, which is a non-thing. Code and algorithms are the mechanical compactor destroying and deforming our terrestrial order.

In light of this, Han explores the repercussions of this rapid transition between things and non-things. As we succumb to a life ruled by non-things, we forfeit the fundamental human inclination to possess, in exchange for shallow and fleeting experiences. Han notes that it is more “difficult to possess information than it is to possess things” (13). In other words, information is not stable, depriving us of the possession of things that ground us by providing a “stable environment for dwelling” (Han 1). The impossibility of possessing information leaves us with no choice but to merely experience it. The internet cannot be possessed; it can only be accessed. This creates instability and makes it harder for us to “identify with things and places” (Han 14). As a result, identity in the digital order is constructed through information, which is anything but stable. This compels us to “produce ourselves on social media […] [and] perform our identity” (Han 14) in an attempt to create one. However, the performance and production of our identity belong only to the digital order, so we merely experience our identity instead of owning it.

The digital order is made up of non-things (information), but it is brought to us by a thing (our smartphones). Han makes this distinction through the discussion of transitional objects and narcissistic objects. He borrows the concepts of “transitional” and “narcissistic” objects from childhood psychology. According to Han, our “symbiotic relationship with our smartphones” (24) has prompted us to consider them transitional objects. These objects “build a bridge to reality, to the other” (Han 26), allowing children to make sense of the world through them. Their distinctiveness and tangible quality allow children to feel safe and relieve the “fear of being alone” (Han 26), resulting in the stabilization of their life and the world. Transitional objects are not only gateways to reality but the embodiment of the other. We possess those objects indicated by “an intimacy and inwardness” (Han 14) insofar as we interact with them as “other”. For instance, children speak and cuddle transitional objects “as if they were another person” (Han 26). However, phones are antithetical to interactions with the “other” because they hold little sentimental value, as they are replaceable. That is why Han holds that phones are narcissistic objects, which are “hard” and lack the quality of the “other.” Narcissistic objects “make it possible not to perceive others as independent human beings at all” (Han 28), deteriorating our empathy. Our interactions with smartphones only allow us to feel ourselves. We no longer appreciate nor interact with the “other,” so we are gradually losing our humanity.

The effect of a digital order and lack of interaction with the “other” could not be more evident in the state of our political and social climate. The very foundation of our democracy lies in the phrase “We the People” (Constitution of the United States, preamble), cementing the idea of unity over polarization. Our founders said “we,” not “I,” establishing the construction of a nation as a collective effort by and for the people. However, the division of thought and weaponization of beliefs have led us astray from our greatest ideal encapsulated by the very first words of our Constitution. The founders understood that humanity and sympathy were the very foundation of a nation. That foundation is crumbling through the devastating loss of empathy.

We have loosened our grip on any shared sense of humanity. The idea of humanity is that there is some form common to all of us across our many differences. This form underlies the sentiment of the phrase “we are all human beings,” a statement uttered as a sort of plea to our humanity. It crushes our sense of total individuality. However, this phrase doesn’t crush to deform but to reform by destroying our differences. The more divisive the world becomes, the further away we are from this sense that we share one form.

Plato discusses the idea of forms in his seminal work The Republic. The Theory of Forms posits that everything has one true and stable essence. Plato believed every object or thing had a form, which was its ideal state in which its essence was whole and unaltered. As a result, forms could not possibly be produced nor replicated, but merely imitated. Furthermore, forms could be imitated and crafted into a tangible object, but no one can “make the things themselves as they truly are” (Plato 266). The forms are eternally stable and preserve their essence, so they cannot be diluted by the creation of an imperfect thing. The forms are singular and omnipresent. For instance, a circle exists mathematically but can never be proven in nature. The one circle cannot be perceived, even with a mathematical proof, which is just an attempt to understand the form of the circle.

The essence of the Theory of Forms is that there is only one form that is real for everything we see. Everything we build and see in our terrestrial world is an imitation of that one form. So, is everything we see a lie? A mere imitation? In part, yes. According to Plato, the forms “manifest themselves everywhere in association with actions, bodies, and one another, each of them appears to be many” (151). Here, we are introduced to the idea of forms as something that is not tangible but present through manifestation. Beyond becoming evident or clear, the word “manifestation” can also signify the proving of something—putting it beyond doubt or question by manifestation. Forms are only perceived by God, but they manifest themselves, providing stability to things. These things, actions, and bodies are not the form itself, but they share a form. Take, for instance, the way we call all dog-breeds “dogs” because they share the form of a dog. They may have different breeds and appearances, but we don’t categorize them for their differences; we embrace the manifestation of the form of a dog by calling them just that—a dog.

The forms are only one, but they manifest into many. Manifestations are related in virtue, but Plato categorized them to further identify them as manifestations and not the forms themselves. He believed that for every physical object, there were three kinds of the same thing. The first is in nature, which is the one true form that is static and keeps its essence. Then there is a physical copy of that form, which is not to be mistaken for the form itself. Finally, there is the artistic representation of the object, which for Plato was twice removed from the truth. In other words, the building of a physical object is an imitation of the form, and the art is an imitation of the physical object. The multifaceted imitation renders the truth diluted the more it is imitated. Each time it is subject to imitation, its essence is destabilized and distorted.

The destabilization of the forms is achieved through imitation. Plato recognized only two levels of imitation: the building of an object, which results in a physical imitation, and the artistic imitation of the object, which is the furthest from the essence of the object. However, Plato did not live in a world where phones and the internet existed. The idea of imitation of the form is indirectly explored by Byung-chul Han, who understands the dangers of imitation through technology. Han recognizes that tangible things stabilize the world, just as Plato believed that forms stabilized things by creating a commonality—a greater ideal, like the one set forth by our founding fathers, that rejects total individuality and highlights our commonality, our form, instead of our differences.

This ideal is under attack by a digital regime. Plato only considered two levels of imitation. So, how many times removed from the form is the information circulated through social media? The things shared through social media are not anchored to a thing like a painting or an object of reference. When images turn completely digital, their truth is surrendered to the digital order. The moment captured in the image becomes information—a series of ones and zeros. Its status as information renders it unstable, deformed, and further away from the truth. The image can now be edited, imperfections removed or softened. The image as a thing ceases and drifts away, far into a totally different order—from the terrestrial to the digital.

I do not know how many times removed everything we see and interact with on social media is from its essence. I am afraid that is impossible to determine. According to Han, “Information now circulates in a hyper-real space, without any reference to reality. After all, fake news is a kind of information, and one that is possibly even more effective than facts” (Han 6). Yet we produce and perform our identities online like so much fake news. For Plato, objects get further away from their essence when produced and reproduced. It is as if they are in a descending state of truth, as they lose their essence until “it touches only a small part of each thing and a part that is itself only an image” (Plato 268). Eventually, imitations are so far removed from the truth that they imitate images that are utterly detached from their essence. That is the state we find ourselves in. In the digital age, our humanity has been so far removed from its essence that we are detached from it. We are bystanders to our very identities and lives. The transition from the terrestrial order to the digital has deformed our humanity, making it a mere image lacking any essence. The reality we live in is nothing short of disturbing, but we must not lose sight of the forms. The things we see will always be removed from their true essence, from Plato’s time to the time of social media. The crushing of our objects and their surrender into a digital order has deformed some of our fundamental values. But though our humanity is ever more diluted, its form will never change. It cannot be crushed. Its essence remains. We may all think, feel, and look different, but we all share one form. I sincerely hope we can all recognize our shared form to reach our highest calling for the sake of our beloved world and democracy.

Works Cited

Apple. “Crush! | IPad pro | Apple.” 7 May 2024, www.youtube.com/watch?v=ntjkwIXWtrc.

Baker, Peter C. “That Much-Despised Apple Ad Could Be More Disturbing than It Looks.” The New York Times, 6 June 2024, www.nytimes.com/2024/06/06/magazine/apple-ipad-ad.html. Accessed 20 Aug. 2024.

Han, Byung-Chul. Non-Things. Translated by Daniel Steuer, Polity, 25 July 2022.

Plato. Republic. Translated by G.M.A Grube, edited by C.D.C Reeve, London Hackett Publishing Company, 1992.