The Upgrade Effect

I expect that within several weeks my laptop computer will be virtually useless. I have known the day was coming for years, a consequence of what I call “the upgrade effect.”

The immediate problem is lack of space on my main hard disk, the place where the operating system and most software applications like to deposit files. Wherever possible, I’ve directed applications to use my other, larger disk (which itself is now suffering a space crunch); but inevitably some files have ended up on my main disk and now threaten to totally fill it.

In the years before the Internet became popular, the only way files could get on your computer was if you put them there. Now, operating systems and applications will automatically “update” themselves over the Internet (or, if you are part of a large company, through an intranet), dumping files where they see fit, which is usually the main disk. Many times, these updates are chunks of software that should have been in the original, fixing problems that were discovered too late to get on the store shelf (or Web site) where you found the version you bought. “Upgrades” may also be included in these additions, “additional features” that may either be free or part of a new version that you’ve been convinced to buy. To be fair, most of the updates are optional as well, but they usually come with warnings of diminished functionality, security risks, or other bad effects if you don’t accept them.

The ultimate consequence of the upgrade effect is to force people to buy more computers and software. Having studied economics and spent a few years in business, I understand this as a variation of one of the most effective models for sustaining a company over the long term. New products stimulate new demand, which brings in new revenue. If the new products are related to older ones, the amount of effort (money) needed to create them is much less than creating something from scratch, which results (at least theoretically) in higher profits. When profits are plowed back into research and development, exponential growth ensues, so it is no surprise that computers and their related components (software and hardware) seem to be replaced every few months or so.

You would think that at some point the market would become saturated; that is, demand would stop increasing. The current economic crisis may be precipitating this, as more people must decide between paying their monthly mortgage and buying a “luxury item” like a new computer. In this case, the upgrade effect could initially hurt people, as their computers approach uselessness and they can’t afford to replace them. If the recession continues another year (or gets worse) then more of us will get used to visiting the local library or sharing resources with friends and family.

As I alluded to, the upgrade effect applies to more than just computers. Furniture, clothes, entertainment, transportation, and health care are among many things that are subject to a similar dynamic. Indeed, our entire economy is organized around the principle of providing new things or unique variations of something we already have. Even when we sell something old, we tend to use part of the proceeds (in money) to acquire something new. Unfortunately, exponential growth is fundamentally impossible to continue. One reason is that creating anything requires energy, which Nature renders practically unusable when we’re done with it. Another reason is that eventually we will be unable to move resources fast enough, limited by another of Nature’s barriers, the speed of light. Whether it happens soon or in the distant future, the upgrade effect will be stopped in its tracks, and we will be forced to reckon with the reality that we have as much as we’ll ever have.