This is why we can't have nice things

A single light bulb that has burned continuously since 1901—still glowing in a Livermore, California fire station—serves as the entry point for a broader claim: modern “worse by design” products are not accidents, and sometimes they’re the result of coordinated business incentives.

Incandescent bulbs work by heating a filament until it glows, but that approach wastes most energy as heat and forces filaments to endure extreme temperatures—up to about 2,800 Kelvin. Early breakthroughs, from vacuum bulbs to better filament materials, steadily improved lifespans. By the early 1920s, average bulbs were approaching roughly 2,000 hours, with some lasting longer. Then progress stalled and reversed.

In December 1924, executives from major light-bulb manufacturers—including Phillips, International General Electric, Tokyo Electric, OSRAM, and the UK’s Associated Electric—met in Geneva and formed what became known as the Phoebus Cartel, named after Phoebus, the Greek god of light. The companies agreed to control global supply and, crucially, to cap bulb lifetimes at 1,000 hours—cutting the existing average nearly in half. Enforcement relied on manufacturers submitting sample bulbs for testing; longer-lasting bulbs triggered fines, with escalating penalties for severe overages. Engineers who previously worked to extend bulb life were redirected to shorten it, experimenting with materials, filament shapes, and thinner connections.

The results tracked the cartel’s goals. After the cartel’s formation, bulb lifespans steadily declined, reaching an average of about 1,205 hours by 1934. Sales rose for cartel members—reported as about 25% over the four years after 1926—and prices stayed largely stable even as component costs fell, boosting profit margins. Publicly, the cartel framed its actions as standardization and efficiency, including promoting a common screw thread. Privately, the incentive structure favored repeat purchases over durability.

The long-lived Livermore bulb is presented as an exception that predates the cartel era and benefits from operating conditions: it runs at low power (around four or five watts) and has been continuously on, reducing thermal cycling that would otherwise stress the filament and components. The cartel itself was expected to last longer but unraveled in the 1930s under competition and non-compliance, with World War II delivering the final blow.

Yet the underlying tactic didn’t disappear. The practice is now known as planned obsolescence—intentionally shortening product lifespans to drive sales. The narrative links this to later controversies in consumer electronics, including Apple’s battery-related slowdowns after iOS updates and subsequent legal outcomes. It also traces a more controversial rationale: during the Great Depression, Bernard London proposed mandatory “lease of life” rules for goods to stimulate employment. The piece then broadens to “dynamic obsolescence,” where industries accelerate replacement cycles through yearly styling changes—citing General Motors’ strategy under Harley Earl and drawing parallels to modern smartphone design churn.

The closing argument is that while technological improvements like LED lighting can genuinely reduce replacement pressure, other forms of obsolescence can be manufactured—sometimes by design choices, sometimes by consumer pressure, and sometimes by the simple fact that better products threaten the business model built around selling them repeatedly.