Hey folks 👋
Welcome back to another SK NEXUS Deep Dive.
If you’ve been following this series, you know what we’re about: unpacking the messy, under-explained corners of tech. The kind of topics that either get ignored, or covered in jargon so heavy that people leave more confused than when they started.
We’re not here to reinvent the wheel, but to make sense of it. To take ideas floating around the internet and strip them down into something clear, practical, and maybe even entertaining along the way.
We’re not The Verge or Wired (not yet, anyway). Think of us as your local guide through the global tech noise - by the time you’re done, you’ll actually get it, and maybe even explain it better than half the “experts” out there.
That being said, let’s get into it.
We’ve been told that updates make things better.
More secure. More powerful. More efficient.
But what if that’s not the full story?
What if updates, especially in the modern tech world - are quietly designed to make things worse?
This isn’t a new concept. It has a name: planned obsolescence.
A strategy that’s been around for almost a century. A system where products aren’t built to last, they’re built to break, slow down, or age out right on schedule.
And now, that same tactic is being baked into your phones, laptops, and even software updates. Not to help you. But to push you toward buying something new, again and again.
This piece breaks down the following:
How we got here
How planned obsolescence is being used in today’s world
Why your tech might be working exactly how they want it to: worse
The Origins of Planned Obsolescence
Planned obsolescence - sounds like something out of a sci-fi movie, right?
But it’s not fiction. It’s real.
And it’s been shaping the way we buy, use, and replace tech for nearly 100 years.
I’ve mentioned this term before, but let’s break it down properly.
What exactly is planned obsolescence?
Where did it come from?
Who started it?
Understanding this is important.
Because once you understand the origin
You’ll start seeing the pattern.
You’ll realize it’s not a bug in the system. It is the system.
You’ll unlock the forbidden sight.
1920s: The Beginning of Something New
The Lightbulb Conspiracy
Let’s rewind to the early 20th century.
Back then, companies had figured out how to make lightbulbs that could last forever. Literally, there’s a bulb in a California fire station that’s been glowing since 1901, for over 100 years.
Sounds like innovation at its finest, right?
But there was one problem.
It was bad for business.
If people only needed to buy a lightbulb once in a decade, how would manufacturers survive?
So, in 1924, the world’s biggest lightbulb makers - General Electric, Philips, Osram, and others - formed a secret alliance called The Phoebus Cartel.
Their goal?
Not to improve lighting. Not to reduce costs.
But to intentionally reduce the lifespan of bulbs to just 1,000 hours.
They standardized failure and rigged the game to boost sales by making products die faster.
Engineers who made longer-lasting bulbs were punished.
Factories were fined for producing bulbs that exceeded the “lifespan quota.”
This wasn’t a side effect. It was the business model.
And this was just the starting.
How GM Made You Hate Your Old Car
The Phoebus Cartel wasn’t the only group flipping the rules of innovation in the 1920s. Around the same time, something else was happening in the world of automobiles.
Back in 1908, Henry Ford launched the legendary Model T, which was one of the first mass-produced cars. His vision? A vehicle built to last forever.
Ford proudly declared, “We want the man who buys one of our cars never to have to buy another.”
But by the 1920s, a new problem hit the auto industry: “Everyone already had a car.”
Sales slowed. People had what they needed. No reason to upgrade.
That’s when General Motors stepped in with a bold new tactic:
If the product doesn’t break… make it feel old.
Starting in 1924, GM began redesigning its cars every year. New models, different colors, all to trigger one thing in the buyer’s mind: “My car is outdated.”
This wasn’t about utility.
It was psychology.
And guess what?
In 1934, the average person kept a car for about 5 years.
By 1955, that number dropped to just 2 years.
1930s: Obsolescence as an Economic Strategy
Depression-Era Economics Meets Design
Just when you thought that planned obsolescence couldn’t get darker, it got even darker.
In 1932, during the depths of the Great Depression, London, a real estate broker named Bernard London, wrote a paper titled “Ending the Depression Through Planned Obsolescence.” And yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like.
His proposal?
Every product should have a predetermined expiration date. Once that date passed, you’d be forced to discard it and buy a new one, or pay a fine for still using it.
That’s right: “a tax for hanging onto old stuff.”
London argued that this forced cycle would “keep the wheels of industry turning” and rescue the economy from collapse. In other words, breaking things on purpose… to fix the system.
At the time, most people ignored him.
But the scary part? His vision eventually came true… not as law, but as strategy.
And it hasn’t stopped since.
Creative Waste: The Spin That Made It Sound Smart
Right after Bernard London pitched forced obsolescence, some clever minds gave it a rebrand.