Have you ever noticed and wondered how come older products, whether it’s electronics, furniture, buildings, or cars, all seemed to last longer and feel more solidly built? It’s strange when you think about it. Technology has improved. Manufacturing capabilities are more advanced. Global sourcing is faster, cheaper, and more efficient. By all logic, product quality should have gone up. But in most cases, it hasn’t. In fact, it feels like the opposite. Products today break more easily. They’re harder to repair. And somehow, they become “old” much faster, even when they still work just fine. This contradiction isn’t accidental. It’s often by design.
A new smart phone especially iPhone every year, But why? Every September, Apple fans queue up, virtually and physically, for the latest iPhone. Not that they really need it and most of the time it isn’t really an upgrade. May be a slightly better camera, a new titanium finish, a new button, maybe a new port. And yet, millions buy. Why? The tech improves incrementally, but the underlying engine driving these upgrades isn’t just innovation, it’s psychology, marketing, and economics.
This isn’t new. The strategy is old. Nearly a century ago, General Motors weaponized aesthetics and product updates to make last year’s model feel outdated. What they triggered was a phenomenon now deeply embedded in our consumer culture, planned obsolescence. This is not just a marketing tactic, it’s a mindset that shapes how industries from fashion to software to electronics keep customers coming back.
Let’s break it down.
Table of Contents
The birth of obsolescence: When cars became fashion statements
In the early 1900s, Henry Ford had one goal, utility at scale. His Model T was black, durable, and efficient. In his words, “We never make an improvement that renders any previous model obsolete.” That was 1922.
But by the 1920s, America was saturated. Most middle-class families who wanted a car had one. Ford’s utilitarianism, once revolutionary, became a bottleneck for sales. That’s when General Motors, under the guidance of Alfred Sloan and design visionary Harley Earl, flipped the game. In 1924, GM introduced annual model changes and a variety of colors. Not because cars needed to be improved, but because consumers needed a reason to want new ones. They coined the term “dynamic obsolescence”, a polite way of saying, “We’re going to make your car feel old, every year.” By 1955, the average car ownership span had dropped to just five years. People weren’t just buying transport. They were buying status, identity, and the latest trend.
The fashion industry: Obsolescence by design
Fashion thrives on obsolescence. Not the kind where clothes wear out, but the kind where they just don’t feel in anymore. Chanel might sell timeless pieces, but fast fashion giants like Zara and H&M operate on weekly trend cycles. Here’s how it works:
- Trends are introduced constantly, micro-seasons instead of traditional Spring/Summer and Fall/Winter.
- Clothing is designed not just to be cheap, but also disposable, poor quality, low durability.
- The moment you buy something, it’s almost out of trend. This is psychological obsolescence.
In 2019 alone, Zara released 24 new clothing collections. By the time a consumer caught up with one trend, three more had already passed.
Tech and the iPhone doctrine: Marginal gains, massive sales
Apple didn’t invent smartphones. But it mastered the art of perceived innovation. Each year, there’s a new iPhone. Often with modest technical upgrades. A better chip. A slightly improved display. A new feature that may not be critical. Yet, the emotional and cultural pull is enormous. The old phone feels clunky even if it works fine. Trade-in offers and marketing build the illusion that not upgrading is falling behind. Operating systems slow down over time, sometimes by design. Remember, when Apple admitted to throttling old iPhones in 2017 Apple’s hardware lasts years. But its business model needs you to upgrade every two.
Software: The invisible obsolescence
Not all obsolescence is physical. Adobe moved from one-time purchases to subscription-only models, before that every year they had an version change, which needed to be upgraded. Microsoft slowly phases out support for older Windows versions, nudging users to upgrade hardware just to stay secure. Mobile apps often stop updating on older OS versions, forcing users into the upgrade cycle. In these cases, your perfectly working laptop or phone becomes unusable not because of the hardware but because the ecosystem leaves it behind.
Light bulbs and the Phoebus Cartel: When obsolescence was engineered
Here’s a sinister example. In the 1920s, the Phoebus Cartel, a group of major light bulb manufacturers including GE, Osram, and Philips, agreed to limit bulb life to 1,000 hours. Why? Because longer-lasting bulbs meant fewer repeat sales. Before this cartel, bulbs lasted 2,500+ hours. After it, they dimmed. On purpose. This wasn’t evolution. It was regression for profit. This cartel essentially invented the concept of engineered obsolescence.
Consumer electronics: The disposable culture
Remember the old Nokia phones? They lasted years, sometimes a decade. Today’s smartphones? Irreplaceable batteries, sealed hardware, limited repairability. Most devices are practically non-repairable by design. Brands like Beats by Dre have been criticized for using unnecessary weights to make their headphones feel premium, while being hard to open, service, or upgrade. Washing machines, fridges, televisions, most aren’t built to last anymore. They’re built to be replaced.
Social media and digital FOMO: Obsolescence of the self
This is a newer, deeper layer. Social media has made personal relevance feel temporary. Platforms reward novelty, new trends, new dances, new aesthetics. A creator’s old content, even if high quality, becomes invisible within days. Even personalities can become obsolete in the algorithmic race. The pressure isn’t just on products. It’s on people.
Why it works: Psychology of obsolescence
Let’s be clear. This isn’t just corporate strategy. It works because we allow it to. Humans crave novelty. It triggers dopamine. Social comparison makes people upgrade for status. Loss aversion makes people fear missing out. Peer pressure, subtle but constant, nudges people into buying even when logic says wait. We’ve been trained to associate new with better, even when the actual improvement is marginal.
What this means for entrepreneurs?
f you’re building a product, obsolescence can be a powerful, but dangerous, lever. Understand the fine line between innovation and manipulation. Design for long-term value but keep users engaged through updates, aesthetics, or personalization. Consider models like modular design, upgradability, or subscription-based innovation that add value without waste. Remember: Brand trust is long-term, fads are not. Planned obsolescence may increase short-term revenue but can hurt sustainability, trust, and brand equity if abused.
The ethics of staying relevant
Apple’s yearly iPhones. GM’s model refreshes. Zara’s disposable trends. The Phoebus Cartel’s dim bulbs. Obsolescence is everywhere, sometimes clever, sometimes wasteful, and often invisible. Here’s the thing. Not everything new is better. Not everything old is obsolete. As consumers, being aware of these patterns helps us make smarter choices. As builders, respecting the intelligence of our users earns long-term loyalty. The challenge is to innovate without deception. To create desire without waste. And to build relevance without relying on engineered irrelevance.
