Yesterday,
Nokia announced the sale of its handset division to Microsoft, bringing the the
brand's five-year decline to its inevitable conclusion. The timing was fitting.
Just last month, industry analysts at Gartner announced that global smartphone
sales had officially overtaken dumb-phone sales.
And the
story of Nokia's fall is also the story of the smartphone's rise.
Nokia's
share of the worldwide mobile market peaked at 40 percent in 2008, the same
year that iPhone sales truly began to soar, and not long before Samsung debuted
its first Android device. Despite an impressive history of innovation—it was a
pioneer in wireless infrastructure, was perhaps the first company to transform
cell phones into fashion accessories, and actually created the first smartphone
back in 1996— Nokia never really successfully transitioned into the new age.
There are a litany of reasons for why that have to do with the nitty gritty of
corporate management and strategy (a big one: management miscalculated that it
could survive largely by selling dumb phones to the developing world). But the
biggest problem was simpler: Nokia was a phone company in a world that had
stopped buying phones. Instead, we buy small computers that can also make
calls.
Before Steve
Jobs & Co. effectively rethought the industry, smartphones were still
essentially communications devices. They could call. They could text. They
could moonlight as "email machines," as Microsoft CEO Steve Ballmer put it. And, yes,
they had cameras. But while they could access a bare-bones mobile version of the
Internet, and sometimes came with bells
and whistles like GPS or FM radio, much as Nokia's own N95 did in 2007, they
still basically belonged to the genus "cellular phone," descendants
of those first enormous bricks bankers carried around in the 80s.
The iPhone
evolved differently. It was a mobile phone, yes, but it was a device created
with the explicit intent of syncing with iTunes and other Apple computer apps.
In spirit, its form and function descended as much from the iPod as much as any
phone that preceded it.* It could access actual web pages. And once the second
generation 3G model debuted along with the Apple app store, owners suddenly
found themselves with a seemingly limitless range of software a few finger
swipes away. Today, as John Gruber succinctly
observed on Daring Fireball, "cell phones are apps, not devices."
Apple was
able to pull off this revolution because it was a rare breed: a computer
company equally devoted to hardware and software. Nokia, as James Surowiecki
points out at the New Yorker, was a hardware company that never fully grasped
the software business. Its early smart phones ran on Symbian, a third-party
operating system first designed for PDAs—remember those?— that lacked the
elegance or flexibility of Apple's iOS. Its attempt to buy Symbian and revamp
it fell flat, and by the time Nokia moved its devices to Windows, it was too
late.
Had the
company realized its own limitations, perhaps it would have survived. The
world's leader in smartphone sales, Samsung, did relatively little in the way
of innovating, at least at first. Rather, it borrowed liberally from Apple's
innovations in form, while relying on Google's Android platform, which drew
heavily from Apple on function. And largely by beating Apple on price, it's
taken over the world market.
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