This article was taken from the December 2011 issue of Wired magazine. Be the first to read Wired's articles in print before they're posted online, and get your hands on loads of additional content by subscribing online.
Over the past two decades, Wired's pages have chronicled the vicissitudes of Steve Jobs's extraordinary career with rare access, insight, intermittent wonderment, and occasional tough-love mockery. The editions, neatly arrayed on our office shelves, serve in retrospect as a rich unofficial biography of both the company and its inspirational cofounder: from our writer's front-row retelling of his early certainty that the 1984 Macintosh "would change the world", via the despair in our 1997 cover story "101 ways to save Apple", to our front-page ridiculing of the company's role in the "botched" ROKR music phone, and finally the inside stories of world-changing products such as the iPod and the iPad.
So when we learned that the greatest consumer-technology visionary of the past quarter-century had passed away far too early, we began rereading our back copies to learn more about the man who became the ultimate case study not only in product innovation but in mastering the magic of modern business success. And what we found engrossed us so much that we have devoted this special commemorative edition to sharing much of this original source material with you over the next dozen pages.
There is no shortage of lessons to be drawn from this portfolio of original wired features. In a world of commodified "product", Steve Jobs persuaded us to pay a premium for a designed experience -- not simply around product design, but through the curated and intuitive journey by which we engage with his devices. If Apple under Jobs became something of a cult, it was because he brought simplicity to a chaotic world (one-click song downloads), human sensibilities to mass-produced electronics (the "breathing" light on a sleeping MacBook) and an understanding that "technology" is best experienced in its absence (who said computers need manuals?). True, Jobs's insistence on absolute control made him an often difficult colleague, and a brutally rigid commercial partner. But his consistently effective strategies and his perfectionist approach to detail offer lessons for every type of business in an age of constant disruption.
First, Jobs saw that consumers will pay more if a product touches them in an emotional way and makes their life simpler. His MP3 music player was not the first, the cheapest nor even the biggest on the market when launched in 2001 -- but it came with no unnecessary features, and with an "ecosystem" attached that let you buy music with one click. Apple under Jobs has consistently adopted a "less is more" philosophy, from building a smartphone around one central button, to minimising packaging -- promoting a culture dedicated to removing clutter and leaving only the beautiful. Who has time in our busy lives to deal with the extraneous?
Second, he understood that design must touch every aspect of the user experience. This obsession extended to details the customer would never see, from the company's colour-coordinated factory robots to its internal workspaces. After he bought Pixar Animation Studios in 1986, Jobs created one large cross-disciplinary space where even the toilets were arranged in the central atrium -- to ensure that workers would interact and so began conversations from which new creative ideas would emerge.
Third, he understood that only relentless improvement would maintain a company's edge. Under Jobs, every product the company valued underwent constant iteration. He managed to turn even the smallest upgrades into newsworthy events: witness last month's front-page "news" coverage of a marginally improved iPhone.
You can see the Jobs magic in his world-class corporate storytelling: the visually led slides that avoid complicating bullet points; the three-points-at-a-time that maintain audience interest. You can also see it in his attention to detail, often with his name attached to a patent - in the glass staircase in his retail stores, or in the snap-off MagSafe power cord that disconnects when you trip on it.
Most of all, Jobs taught that a considered risk is not something for businesses to fear. "Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life," as he so movingly said in his Stanford University commencement address in June 2005. "You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart."
This article was originally published by WIRED UK
