Be honest — have you ever read, I mean really, read, Apple’s Terms and Conditions before updating your phone? Chances are, you haven’t. It’s not your fault if you’ve tried (and failed) to understand beyond the first sentence. In fact, most people spend less than a minute perusing the terms before clicking “I agree.” These documents are notoriously dense, written in inaccessible language that few users — whether it be educated adults or teenagers unboxing their first iPhone — can genuinely understand, let alone consent to. Beyond the sheer complexity of the clauses, there also is the issue of transparency. Social psychologist Shoshana Zuboff argues that under surveillance capitalism, the systems by which companies collect, interpret, and monetize user data are largely invisible to the people affected by them. Even those who do attempt to read these policies are rarely able to grasp the full scope of what data is being collected and how it’s used. In consequence, consent becomes hollow; a mere performance that legitimizes deeply asymmetrical power dynamics between users and platforms. With growing public concern around internet privacy, the implications of what we consent to digitally are more important than ever.
It turns out that much of the reason why we choose to skip reading these documents is by design. Studies show that interfaces push users toward desired outcomes. You may recognize “interface interference,” as obscured information, preselected options, or layouts that steer you toward quick agreement. You may additionally notice the issue of “forced action,” where you must accept terms in order to continue using a service — a dynamic mirrored with Apple, where users cannot access their device without clicking “agree.”
I wanted to explore these findings a bit deeper. Focusing on Apple’s Terms and Conditions (T&Cs) and Privacy Policy, my research draws on a descriptive survey as well as a few in- depth interviews to explore how users make sense of their own consent practices. The goal of the research is not to determine whether or not people should read these policies, but rather to understand how people perceive their role in the process of consenting.
Most participants reported skipping Apple’s T&Cs. Over 70 per cent said they “always” or “often” ignored them, while only three per cent claimed to have fully read one term. Interviewees echoed this sentiment, describing the pursuit of reading these documents as frustrating and futile. Even those who tried reading the fine print admitted they didn’t understand what they read, or felt that the option to decline was a false choice. Others cited time, language, and emotional energy as barriers to reading the T&Cs.
When asked how they felt after skipping the T&Cs, most listed emotions such as indifference, “uncomfiness,” or guilt. Some participants noted that skipping has become so automatic, they rarely think about it, one writing: “I don’t even hesitate anymore. It’s just part of using the phone.” Other times, participants described skipping the T&Cs as a pragmatic response to a system they believed was never designed for them to understand in the first place. This is an important distinction as it shows that many people were not skipping fully reading the T&Cs due to lack of concern. Interviewees expressed discomfort and even embarrassment when reflecting on their habits, despite acknowledging how inaccessible the T&Cs were.
Most participants, even those who felt uneasy about skipping T&Cs, justified their behaviour by downplaying the risks or rationalizing their decision in some other way. A dominant sentiment was that “nothing bad has happened so far,” so the perceived threat seemed unlikely to ever happen. It was difficult to tell if this was a sense of passive trust in Apple or just what participants said to make themselves feel better.
Not everyone dismissed the act of reading these agreements. Older participants were far more likely to have read them, and expressed that doing so was part of being a responsible consumer. Even still, most participants who did not read them believed it was ultimately their responsibility to understand them. Additionally, participants who felt shame in skipping them reinforce the idea that non-compliance is a personal failure, not a structural issue.
Almost 60 per cent of respondents said they do not trust Apple to use their data ethically. Still, most people felt they had no other choice than to accept so that they could participate in modern life with a phone — posing a clear moral dilemma. Despite this, clicking “agree” functions as full legal consent. These findings suggest that responsibility is defaulted to users, even when they lack the time and knowledge needed to make informed decisions. Participants often internalized this expectation, blaming themselves for not reading or understanding. This model is unrealistic and unfair, placing a huge burden on individuals while corporations abstain from taking accountability.
By exploring not just whether users read these documents, but how they justify and interpret their behaviour, this research reveals the extensive cognitive and emotional labour hidden beneath a single click. It’s clear most people skip T&Cs. However, their reasons for doing so are more complex than just apathy. Many described a sense of frustration, futility, or guilt. Over time, users have become so used to skipping these forms, they did not think twice about it. This is reminiscent of cultural anthropologist, Natasha Dow Schüll’s, concept of the “machine zone,” where gamblers interact with slot machines in an automatic, frictionless manner. Similarly, users engage with consent pop-ups as part of a habitual flow; clicking “agree” to keep using their phones and rarely stopping to consider any implications. This is not a failure on the individual level, but a feature of the design.
Ultimately, there is a contradiction at the heart of digital consent. Users are invited to participate in what appears to be a reciprocal exchange — access in return for agreement. However, as Russell Belk notes, this is not real sharing, but pseudo-sharing: a system that preaches transparency despite profiting off of an inequality. Users are not unaware of these dynamics — many feel uneasy and frustrated, but the nature of the system leaves them little choice. Consent is thus more of a ritual than a protection. In a time where trust in tech companies is rapidly eroding and data collection is central to the digital economy, we must ask: who is this consent really serving? And what would it look like to build a system where saying “I agree” actually means something?