Why Your Smartphone Can Do Everything But Does Nothing Well Automatic translate

The technological evolution of the last forty years is often depicted as an upward-sloping linear graph. Corporate marketing departments sell us the idea that each new device surpasses the previous one in every way. The engineering reality is different. The graph of progress in consumer electronics more closely resembles a sine wave, where the peak of functional versatility coincided with a deep decline in the performance of specific tasks. We’ve created a digital "Swiss Army knife" that can do everything, but it cuts worse than a scalpel and screws worse than a screwdriver.

In the mid-1990s and early 2000s, engineers tackled highly specialized problems. A music player had to deliver benchmark sound, a phone had to provide a stable connection in a basement, and a camera had to capture light. Each device was built around its primary function. The architecture of printed circuit boards (PCBs) was dictated by the physics of the process, not by designers’ demands to make the case a millimeter thinner. The modern smartphone is a compromise, encased in glass and glue.

The unification of components has led to a loss of hardware individuality. If we disassemble a high-end flagship and a budget device, we see similar architectural solutions dictated by economies of scale. Even when an enthusiast tries to find unique components by browsing supplier catalogs or visiting a specialized CM store , they encounter standardization. The difference now lies not in the silicon, but in software add-ons and artificial driver limitations. Hardware is no longer the determining factor in quality.

Audio path degradation

The most obvious victim of universalization was sound. During the heyday of portable audio, which can be counted from the advent of the Walkman to the demise of the iPod Classic, the signal followed a clear and physically sound path. The digital-to-analog converter (DAC) was soldered onto the device’s logic board. Chips like the legendary Wolfson had sufficient space and power to process the signal efficiently. The analog signal then passed to an amplifier and through a physical copper contact (3.5 mm or 6.3 mm jack) to the earphone diaphragm.

Under the pretext of eliminating wires, the modern audio industry has diverted concepts. Smartphones no longer process sound, but simply transmit a compressed digital stream via Bluetooth. The analog conversion occurs directly inside the wireless earphone, where space for a high-quality DAC and amplifier is limited to millimeters, and powered by a tiny battery.

Physics is merciless: it’s impossible to fit audiophile-grade wiring inside a 4-gram earpiece. Transmitting data over the air requires aggressive compression. SBC, AAC, and even the "advanced" LDAC codecs discard parts of the spectrum for the sake of connection stability. We traded detail and depth for the freedom from a wire to snag. For many users in 2026, high-impedance wired headphones have become the only way to hear music as it was recorded, without the intervention of psychoacoustic compression algorithms.

Interface and cognitive cost

The evolution of information input methods radically changed our neurophysiology. Push-button phones and music players with physical keys exploited the user’s muscle memory. A person could type a text message or change a track without removing the device from their pocket. Tactile feedback provided the brain with instant confirmation of the action. The operation was performed reflexively, without interrupting the main flow of attention.

Touchscreens require complete visual control. The glass is untextured, so a finger can’t find the desired point without the help of the eyes. Any action, even the simplest — pausing a podcast or answering a call — forces us to switch our attention from the surrounding world to the screen. This creates a constant micro-load on the prefrontal cortex. The cumulative fatigue effect of interacting with a "black mirror" has become a medical reality.

Manufacturers try to compensate for the lack of physical feedback with vibration motors (haptic feedback), but this is merely emulation. The brain distinguishes a mechanical click from vibration. The loss of "eye-contact" control has made us slaves to screens. We are forced to look at the device to interact with it, which fits perfectly into the strategy of the attention economy, where eye contact time is the main currency.

Energy and autonomy

Moore’s Law allowed transistors to become smaller, but battery chemistry evolved significantly more slowly. Lithium-ion technology hasn’t made a quantum leap in 30 years comparable to the growth in computing power. Yet older phones lasted a week on a 900 mAh battery, while modern ones barely make it to the evening with a 5,000 mAh battery. The reason lies in a paradigm shift in software operation.

Nokia and Ericsson phones ran on real-time operating systems (RTOS). The processor slept 99% of the time and woke up only to handle interruptions (such as a phone call or a button press). Modern Android and iOS are fully-fledged general-purpose multitasking systems. Background processes run nonstop: cloud synchronization, access token updates, telemetry collection, and geolocation polling.

A device in 2026 spends the lion’s share of its energy not on user tasks, but on servicing its own ecosystem and advertising identifiers. A 120Hz screen isn’t for reading text, but for smoothly scrolling through a social media feed. We carry a supercomputer in our pockets, which uses its resources to monitor us and show us content we didn’t request. The return to "dumb" phones is an attempt to regain control over energy consumption and eliminate parasitic loads.

Maintainability as a Lost Freedom

The engineering school of the past assumed that technology could break and needed to be fixed. Cases were assembled with screws, latches, or were designed to be disassembled. A replaceable battery was the industry standard. Users could carry a spare battery in their wallet and replace it in 10 seconds, instantly returning the device to 100%. This gave them a sense of ownership. You controlled its life cycle.

Modern assembly is a triumph of glue and disposable solutions. The glass "sandwiches" of modern smartphones are virtually impossible to disassemble without specialized equipment and the risk of damaging the display. Batteries are sealed deep inside, and replacing them requires a service visit. But the main problem lies in the software-based component pairing (part pairing).

Manufacturers hardcode the serial numbers of parts into the motherboard firmware. If you swap the original screen from one iPhone for another identical one, True Tone or Face ID will stop working. The technology artificially resists repair. This turns the buyer from an owner into a renter. You don’t own the phone; you’ve simply bought the right to use it until the manufacturer decides it’s obsolete.

The problem of memory durability

Flash memory, which replaced hard drives (HDDs) in music players (like those in later iPods), has a limited number of write cycles. However, in specialized devices, this resource was used sparingly. Music was written once and read thousands of times. In modern smartphones, memory wears out faster due to aggressive app caching and constant system logging.

Moreover, older devices often supported memory expansion via standard microSD or CompactFlash slots without encryption. You could remove the card, insert it into a card reader, and copy files. Today, internal memory is soldered to the board and encrypted with processor keys. If the power controller or processor dies, the data is irretrievably lost. The physical separation of storage media and computing device, which was once the norm, has now become rare.

The revival of specialized formats

The year 2026 is seeing a renaissance of single-function devices. Photographers are returning to compact CCD cameras from the 2000s for that "very" color that can’t be simulated with filters. Music lovers are buying up old players on the used market and modifying them with high-capacity batteries and 1TB memory cards. This movement goes beyond simple nostalgia.

People are looking for tools that don’t require firmware updates every two weeks. A player from 2005 won’t stop playing music because the company shut down the licensing servers. Offline devices are sovereign. They operate predictably and obey only the laws of physics, not user agreements that can change at any time.

Interest in the hardware of the past reflects a weariness with the ephemeral nature of digital services. A FLAC file on your local drive belongs to you. A track on a streaming service can disappear due to copyright expiration. A device without an internet connection cannot be hacked remotely. In a world of total connectivity, the absence of a Wi-Fi module is becoming a premium security feature.

Screens and information perception

Display technology has evolved from monochrome LCDs backlit by lamps to OLED panels with millions of colors. The picture has become objectively better: higher contrast, brighter, sharper. But the screen’s very purpose has changed. The Nokia 6300 display was used to display text: a number, a name, a short message. It was an informant.

Modern screens are designed as entertainment centers. PWM (pulse-width modulation), used to regulate brightness in OLEDs, causes eye strain in sensitive users. The blue spectrum of backlighting disrupts circadian rhythms. Older transflective screens, which only became clearer in bright sunlight and didn’t require a powerful backlight, are a thing of the past. The industry has sacrificed sunlight readability and eye health for the sake of being able to watch HDR video on the toilet.

Communication networks and standards

Paradoxically, phones from 20 years ago often provide better voice quality in areas with poor reception than modern 5G modems. Older antennas had a larger physical surface area and weren’t easily obstructed by hand (or had a connector for an external antenna). GSM protocols were designed for voice with minimal latency.

Modern networks (VoLTE, VoWiFi) send voice like data packets. When the channel is congested or there’s high jitter, you hear "croaking" and digital artifacts. The old analog noise from a poor connection was more pleasant to the ear than the digital silence from dropped packets. We got gigabit internet in our pockets, but we lost the guarantee that we’d be heard.

Technological progress has given us incredible access to information, but it has taken away tactility, privacy, and reliability. Devices have become smarter than us, but less obedient. The renewed interest in the technology of 30-40 years ago isn’t a step backwards, but a search for the lost balance between man and machine.