But the true ingenuity of a “smart” device is the way it upends traditional models of ownership. We don’t really buy and own network-­connected household goods; in essence, we rent and operate these devices on terms set by the company. Because they run on proprietary software, and because they are connected to the internet, their corporate creators can always reach across cyberspace and meddle with them. In 2009, Amazon deleted from customers’ Kindle readers copies of “1984” that were sold without authorization. Dealers have begun installing “starter interrupt devices” on cars bought with loans, so that they can kill the engine from afar should the borrower be late on his payments. Consumers will have little possibility for redress, much less rebellion — no way to outsmart these once-­dumb objects.

Using a smart device for anything but the purposes explicitly sanctioned by its manufacturer risks violating a warranty, bricking a device or even breaking the law. (It’s fitting, albeit a touch melodramatic, that unauthorized tinkering with an iPhone is called “jailbreaking.”) The very same elements making these things smart — connectivity, sophisticated software, semiautonomous intelligence — can also make them more frustrating than any devices we’ve ever seen.

At its most expansive, “smart” produces a world where we no longer exert control over objects we’ve bought from corporations, but corporations exert control over us through things we pay for the privilege of using. And when “smart” is crudely applied to the cities we live in — to our crumbling infrastructure and militarized police forces — we give in to forces of privatization, algorithmic control and rule by corporate contract. It seems an indelible symbol of the times that New York City neglects essential but mundane services like public restrooms while promoting other putative municipal innovations, like the mass conversion of pay phones to Wi-Fi kiosks. As with other smart devices, which subsidize their costs with data collection, these kiosks are free — provided you submit to the collection of your personal information and location data. The commons becomes simply another site for private companies to spy on people.

Whether it’s the routes we drive, the songs we listen to or the prices we pay for airline tickets, our lives are increasingly shaped by opaque systems that assess and sort us according to inscrutable criteria. Every one of these systems is, in some sense, “smart.” But that label elides the more important judgment of where power lies and how it operates. A smart tampon may provide some useful information, but many women simply need better access to health services, and laws that preserve their ability to control their reproductive lives. Fitness trackers might help some folks, but they have also become favored tools of insurers and corporate wellness plans while doing nothing to address the underlying causes of obesity. Self-­driving cars represent a potentially lifesaving innovation, but they are increasingly cast as replacements for embattled mass-­transit systems that millions of people rely on. Amid the ritual enumeration of tech specs and price points, we risk ignoring how smart devices represent another example of consumer capitalism’s bulldozing past political questions.

One of the animating myths of American capitalism is that of the savvy consumer. Informed, discriminating, wise to manipulation and deceit, this person fluidly navigates the waters of everyday consumption. And through these small decisions, replicated over and over again by millions of others, the free market improves life for all. Essential to this myth is the notion that influence and power work transparently. Experience shows that this isn’t the case, yet we continue to flatter ourselves by adorning our bodies, homes and cities with smart gadgetry and claiming that it serves us. Perhaps the real smarts on display here are those of the tech-­industry mandarins who convinced us that we needed all this stuff in the first place.