Callum McStay flicks the on switch to reveal why screens alone are not enough.
Click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click.
If the only time you pick up a pen these days is to give yourself something to fiddle with, you’re experiencing the joy of the tactile.
Those tiny physical interactions we make by clicking a ballpoint or playing with a zip help maintain focus, support sensory regulation, and give a welcome dopamine hit. They’re slightly addictive, in the best way. They’re sensorily satisfying.
And they give a clue as to why the use of the touchscreen could be reaching its peak.
Press play
It’s really hard to fiddle with a touchscreen. They disguise or even bury the instinctive connection between our behaviours and our environment, because they affect affordance and physical feedback.
Affordance is the way an object suggests how it should be used. A handle invites a pull, a knob a turn, and a button a press. Physical controls communicate their purpose through shape, texture, colour and placement.
And feedback is fundamental to how we interact with the world. When we press a button or give a compliment, we look for cues to confirm our action had an effect. Without feedback, simple interactions can feel uncertain or even socially awkward.
Great design engages the senses to improve affordance and feedback. Affordance is often communicated visually, whereas feedback can be tactile (the vibration on a phone when a button is tapped), audible (the beep after tapping a contactless card) and visual (the colour change of a toggle).
Since we built the first machines, we’ve combined these signals seamlessly. A physical button might yield under your finger, produce a soft click, and trigger a visible change. These overlapping cues made actions clear, reassuring and satisfying.
The screen test
But screens changed the game. The interface relies heavily on the visual, while tactile and audible feedback becomes secondary, simulated, unusable or absent altogether.
Smooth glass offers no sensory clues, unlike metal that feels cool and solid, rubber that feels soft and grippy, or plastic that feels lightweight or smooth.
And physical controls offer a wider range of mechanical feedback. A button can click sharply or softly. A slider can offer varying levels of resistance. These variations create distinctive interactions that users quickly learn and remember. Screen interaction all feels the same.
It all means users have to look at a screen both to identify the correct interaction and to verify the outcome. And that can be surprisingly difficult.
When I took a long drive on a hot day in a hire car, with the heating and the fan set to high, I struggled to adjust the settings on the central touchscreen, and ended up driving the whole way with the windows down to avoid passing out from the heat.
Feel something
Recently, though, we’ve begun to see signs of a shift back toward tactile interaction, as brands rediscover the value of physical feedback in product design.
The iPhone 15 introduced a customisable Action Button, allowing users to trigger specific functions with a dedicated physical control.
Apple’s own Jony Ive, having once led the introduction of touchscreens in cars, has now made a creative U-turn in his interior design for Ferrari’s first fully electric vehicle, the Luce EV. As he told Top Gear magazine, “Getting into a car and seeing one big display, well, it sucks the life out of me. [Using practical controls] is so much more engaging and visceral – and helpful in terms of establishing hierarchy of use.”
Ive’s new philosophy resonates in parallel fields of design. Finnish architect Juhani Pallasmaa argues for “haptic architecture”, emphasising the importance of human-centric, multisensory design in as a way of creating an immersive sensory experience.
To conclude
It turns out that affordance and feedback aren’t only functional; they can inspire high-level emotion and aspiration.
So, imagine using an antique door knocker to announce your presence in a historic building. The feel of the hot metal warmed by the sunlight, or cold metal encrusted with frost. The weight of the mechanism as you lift it. The hammering that reverberates through the air as the lever pivots in your hand. The connection you make to all the previous generations who have held this same piece across the centuries.
And then contrast that with the experience of swiping your finger on your Ring app to activate a smart doorbell. Beeeep. It’s just not the same.
Screens will undoubtedly remain central to modern products. Their flexibility and versatility are unmatched. But as designers continue to refine digital experiences, the value of the tactile is beginning to click.
