I resent upgrading my smartphone every few years, but consumers like us have no choice. Here’s why I think that’s wrong.
The first smartphone I owned was an HTC. I’ve never used an iPhone as my day-to-day phone, but I’ve been glued into the Android ecosystem for over a decade now. I used to be someone who liked to upgrade to a new smartphone every two years. I might be forced into upgrading now, but it definitely isn’t because I want to.
The joy I used to have owning those early HTCs is long gone—I hate upgrading my smartphone, and I imagine most people feel the same way.
Every smartphone looks the same (but costs more)
Companies like Samsung and Apple like to be innovators, or so the prevailing wisdom suggests. If that’s the case, then why does every smartphone look the same?
I’ve owned several Samsung Galaxy smartphones. I recently upgraded to an S23. It’s a bit faster to use, and the screen is brighter, but in day-to-day use, I can barely tell it apart from the S20 I owned before.
The latest Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra smartphone, unboxed
Sure, there are subtle differences in newer smartphones. A notch here, an extra camera there, a few buttons in a few different places. For the most part, however, the smartphone market has settled into a very similar design, whether you’re rocking an Android or an Apple handset. The improvements—the innovations—that used to come with a new phone are now rarely seen.
I miss those early Android days, when the smartphone market was still emerging. Every upgrade felt like an upgrade. I could switch to a foldable, but that market is niche and (in my opinion) untested, and I have my own problems to consider there.
The screens, they burn
The biggest of those problems is the screen. In early 2020, just as the pandemic was taking hold, I had a terrible bout of vertigo. It lasted weeks, and to tell you the truth, my eyes never really felt the same afterward. That’s a tough problem when your job requires you to stare at screens all day.
Without realising, I became one of the many thousands who had developed PWM sensitivity. PWM (pulse wave modulation) is a technical feature that manufacturers use to make a display seem brighter or darker by repeatedly turning the display on or off, more quickly than our naked eyes should be able to see.
Those with PWM sensitivity suffer from headaches, dry eyes, vertigo, blurry vision, and more when using phones that use it. Unfortunately for me, this coincided with buying both a MacBook Pro a few months before and my Galaxy S20 in early 2020, both devices that use PWM in some way. This was enough to trigger my vertigo in weeks.
It took a long time for me to even realise what PWM sensitivity was. I now use an app to gray out my screen rather than lower my brightness (and trigger the PWM flashing) which has helped, but my eyes still tire easily using it. For some users, however, even that isn’t a fix, with PWM flickering taking place even at maximum brightness.
This is a niche problem, but a big one. Fewer manufacturers use the kind of displays that avoid PWM (and would thus avoid my PWM sensitivity). A whole subreddit now exists for users like me and, unfortunately, there isn’t much else I can do other than find workarounds or stick to older, obsolete phones.
I’m only upgrading for battery life (and speed)
I have never upgraded to a new smartphone for a better or brighter screen (except in the very early days). I would be happy with a dimmer, less vibrant screen that didn’t give me headaches. What I do look for is an improvement in speed and an improved battery life.
My own personal rule-of-thumb for battery life is two years. After that, and after daily usage and charging cycles, the capacity of a smartphone starts to rapidly decrease. I managed just over three years with my S20 before the reduced battery life became a problem.
That was the trigger for me to upgrade, and I don’t exactly regret the choice. My new phone is faster, has no screen burn in, and lasts more than a day. I use my smartphone every day, so I don’t expect the battery to last forever. It was this fact that only recently dawned on me—that I was upgrading out of necessity (a bad battery, among others), rather than by choice.
Phone manufacturers have stifled our choices
I miss the excitement that used to come with a new smartphone purchase. A genuinely new or exciting feature, or a clear reason for upgrading, beyond the utility of a new battery. Bixby doesn’t count, and neither does Galaxy AI.
That’s not to say that they don’t try. Every year, smartphone manufacturers tout their latest models as revolutionary. It’s a smokescreen. These ‘new’ devices offer little more than marginal improvements over their predecessors, and by making our smartphones look the same, manufacturers have stifled the choice that we have as consumers. The innovation isn’t there.
They don’t make smartphones like this any more
Outside of the foldables market (which is still very niche), I’m certain that the next Samsung Galaxy or iPhone will look and feel very much like the last one. And yet, we’re forced into upgrading. I’ve already complained that one of the reasons I upgrade is for better battery life. Those earlier smartphones came with removable batteries, so in the past, I could have easily bought a new battery to maintain their lifespan. Newer smartphones don’t, so that option is removed.
Why? To keep the market going. It forces us to buy, every two years or less, like clockwork, buying products which look like the last one, and the one before it, with no easy way to maintain our devices or repair them.
It’s time for change
In an ideal world, regulators would look at this and see a problem. An enshrined right to repair would be a good place to start. The EU recently approved a law on this, as have several U.S. states. By restricting the ability to repair our tech, it’s harder to maintain their lifespan, making the churn impossible to stop. Without a right to repair, the inevitable upgrade cycle (one of necessity, not of choice) will remain.
Companies must also look carefully at the design choices being made. This isn’t just about aesthetics, although selling us the same smartphone design each year should be reconsidered. As my PWM suffering shows, manufacturers must take greater care to consider how brighter screens and tech wizardry like PWM is affecting the health of our eyes—the dominant organ in use in this tech-covered world.
I have my doubts, however. Samsung and Apple are complacent, content with the dominant position they hold in the market, and that seems unlikely to change. Forced obsolescence makes it certain that, every few years, the same consumers will come back to buy a new phone. The cycle won’t break, because we have no choice. Let’s just hope that the regulators catch on and force action. If it’s enough to force Apple to switch to USB-C, it might be enough to force these companies to try something different.
I Hate Upgrading My Smartphone (Here’s Why)
I resent upgrading my smartphone every few years, but consumers like us have no choice. Here’s why I think that’s wrong.
The first smartphone I owned was an HTC. I’ve never used an iPhone as my day-to-day phone, but I’ve been glued into the Android ecosystem for over a decade now. I used to be someone who liked to upgrade to a new smartphone every two years. I might be forced into upgrading now, but it definitely isn’t because I want to.
The joy I used to have owning those early HTCs is long gone—I hate upgrading my smartphone, and I imagine most people feel the same way.
Every smartphone looks the same (but costs more)
Companies like Samsung and Apple like to be innovators, or so the prevailing wisdom suggests. If that’s the case, then why does every smartphone look the same?
I’ve owned several Samsung Galaxy smartphones. I recently upgraded to an S23. It’s a bit faster to use, and the screen is brighter, but in day-to-day use, I can barely tell it apart from the S20 I owned before.
The latest Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra smartphone, unboxed
Sure, there are subtle differences in newer smartphones. A notch here, an extra camera there, a few buttons in a few different places. For the most part, however, the smartphone market has settled into a very similar design, whether you’re rocking an Android or an Apple handset. The improvements—the innovations—that used to come with a new phone are now rarely seen.
I miss those early Android days, when the smartphone market was still emerging. Every upgrade felt like an upgrade. I could switch to a foldable, but that market is niche and (in my opinion) untested, and I have my own problems to consider there.
The screens, they burn
The biggest of those problems is the screen. In early 2020, just as the pandemic was taking hold, I had a terrible bout of vertigo. It lasted weeks, and to tell you the truth, my eyes never really felt the same afterward. That’s a tough problem when your job requires you to stare at screens all day.
Without realising, I became one of the many thousands who had developed PWM sensitivity. PWM (pulse wave modulation) is a technical feature that manufacturers use to make a display seem brighter or darker by repeatedly turning the display on or off, more quickly than our naked eyes should be able to see.
PWM results for a Samsung Galaxy S20 from Notebookcheck.com
Those with PWM sensitivity suffer from headaches, dry eyes, vertigo, blurry vision, and more when using phones that use it. Unfortunately for me, this coincided with buying both a MacBook Pro a few months before and my Galaxy S20 in early 2020, both devices that use PWM in some way. This was enough to trigger my vertigo in weeks.
It took a long time for me to even realise what PWM sensitivity was. I now use an app to gray out my screen rather than lower my brightness (and trigger the PWM flashing) which has helped, but my eyes still tire easily using it. For some users, however, even that isn’t a fix, with PWM flickering taking place even at maximum brightness.
This is a niche problem, but a big one. Fewer manufacturers use the kind of displays that avoid PWM (and would thus avoid my PWM sensitivity). A whole subreddit now exists for users like me and, unfortunately, there isn’t much else I can do other than find workarounds or stick to older, obsolete phones.
I’m only upgrading for battery life (and speed)
I have never upgraded to a new smartphone for a better or brighter screen (except in the very early days). I would be happy with a dimmer, less vibrant screen that didn’t give me headaches. What I do look for is an improvement in speed and an improved battery life.
My own personal rule-of-thumb for battery life is two years. After that, and after daily usage and charging cycles, the capacity of a smartphone starts to rapidly decrease. I managed just over three years with my S20 before the reduced battery life became a problem.
That was the trigger for me to upgrade, and I don’t exactly regret the choice. My new phone is faster, has no screen burn in, and lasts more than a day. I use my smartphone every day, so I don’t expect the battery to last forever. It was this fact that only recently dawned on me—that I was upgrading out of necessity (a bad battery, among others), rather than by choice.
Phone manufacturers have stifled our choices
I miss the excitement that used to come with a new smartphone purchase. A genuinely new or exciting feature, or a clear reason for upgrading, beyond the utility of a new battery. Bixby doesn’t count, and neither does Galaxy AI.
That’s not to say that they don’t try. Every year, smartphone manufacturers tout their latest models as revolutionary. It’s a smokescreen. These ‘new’ devices offer little more than marginal improvements over their predecessors, and by making our smartphones look the same, manufacturers have stifled the choice that we have as consumers. The innovation isn’t there.
They don’t make smartphones like this any more
Outside of the foldables market (which is still very niche), I’m certain that the next Samsung Galaxy or iPhone will look and feel very much like the last one. And yet, we’re forced into upgrading. I’ve already complained that one of the reasons I upgrade is for better battery life. Those earlier smartphones came with removable batteries, so in the past, I could have easily bought a new battery to maintain their lifespan. Newer smartphones don’t, so that option is removed.
Why? To keep the market going. It forces us to buy, every two years or less, like clockwork, buying products which look like the last one, and the one before it, with no easy way to maintain our devices or repair them.
It’s time for change
In an ideal world, regulators would look at this and see a problem. An enshrined right to repair would be a good place to start. The EU recently approved a law on this, as have several U.S. states. By restricting the ability to repair our tech, it’s harder to maintain their lifespan, making the churn impossible to stop. Without a right to repair, the inevitable upgrade cycle (one of necessity, not of choice) will remain.
Companies must also look carefully at the design choices being made. This isn’t just about aesthetics, although selling us the same smartphone design each year should be reconsidered. As my PWM suffering shows, manufacturers must take greater care to consider how brighter screens and tech wizardry like PWM is affecting the health of our eyes—the dominant organ in use in this tech-covered world.
I have my doubts, however. Samsung and Apple are complacent, content with the dominant position they hold in the market, and that seems unlikely to change. Forced obsolescence makes it certain that, every few years, the same consumers will come back to buy a new phone. The cycle won’t break, because we have no choice. Let’s just hope that the regulators catch on and force action. If it’s enough to force Apple to switch to USB-C, it might be enough to force these companies to try something different.
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