Recently someone on Twitter posted a picture like this, commenting that this kind of stove still works after a hundred years, but “thanks to ‘progress’ and ‘improvement’ you have to replace your new one after 5 years.”

Of course, durability is not the only attribute that matters.
A stove like this burns wood or coal. That fuel needs to be hauled into the house (and up the steps of a tenement), and the ashes carried out. Solid fuel, unlike natural gas, also generates smoke. If all is in proper order, the chimney carries the smoke away so that it merely pollutes your neighborhood. If not, the smoke could leak into the home, causing a major health hazard to both the lungs and the eyes.
Note also a few missing features:
- An on-off control. This kind of stove, which is only one step advanced beyond an open-hearth fireplace, requires that you build the fire yourself. (One young woman’s 1868 diary entry reads, “Had an awful time to get breakfast, the fire would not burn.”)
- A temperature dial. You build the fire and you get what you get. A skilled cook can vary the temperature by, e.g., moving the pots various distances from the firebox. But basically, good luck following a recipe.
- “Self-cleaning” mode. Or, for that matter, any enamel or other protective coating. Cast iron stoves need to be cleaned ~daily and waxed regularly, or they will rust and wear out.
So, for most people, the convenience, cleanliness, and safety of a modern stove far outweigh its shorter lifespan (which, incidentally, is not 5 years, but 13–15, according to Consumer Reports). In other words: yes, modern stoves do represent progress and improvement, no scare quotes required.
The advantages of gas/electricity, in particular, also outweigh the downside of risking an interruption in these services—an example of Matt Ridley’s observation of how we move “from precarious self-sufficiency to safer mutual interdependence.”
But why can’t a modern stove last a hundred years? I don’t know the technical answer. The electric connections needed for the temperature control are sensitive, presumably. Probably the walls and door are thinner—using less material for cost and efficiency, vs. thick, heavy cast iron.
But I think I know the economic answer, which is: a modern stove designed and built to last a hundred years would be too expensive. It would take a bigger engineering effort (fixed cost) and probably more/better materials (variable cost). And it’s totally unnecessary. While there is something quaint and romantic about very long-lived items, there’s just no real reason a consumer needs them. So no one would pay for the hundred-year stove, and even if someone made it, it would fail in the marketplace.
A mid-tier range costs ~$1500. Amortized over that 15-year life, that’s just $100/year, which is very affordable. Besides, by upgrading every decade or two, consumers get the latest features. Why build a stove to last a hundred years if it’s going to be obsolete long before then?
A few people might, nonetheless, prefer old stoves. And all of us might occasionally enjoy cooking over an open flame on a charcoal grill. But the vast majority of consumers have voted with their wallets to make the old style of stove into an antique.
Some lessons here:
- Evaluate products as a function of all attributes, including convenience and cost—not just one attribute taken in isolation.
- Be careful of romanticizing obsolete technology. Usually, we moved on for a reason.
- The ideal is not a static state where everything lasts forever and nothing ever changes. Such a world is impossible and undesirable—even if we could create it, it would be stagnant. The ideal is a dynamic world of progress, of continual upgrading and renewal.
Source for many of the details above about old cookstoves, including the 1868 diary quote: Chapter 3 of More Work for Mother, by Ruth Schwartz Cowan.
This post is based on a Twitter thread.
The search results page you linked to, as it appears for me.
That’s closer (in some ways), but it’s still not the same thing. (Note, by the way, that this manufacturer doesn’t seem to ship to the United States, and is not available via Amazon, nor, as far as I can tell, via any distributor that caters to the American market.)
Are you just putting “heavy-gauge aluminum cookware” into Google and pasting the search results here? What in the world makes you think that this will yield meaningful results without being familiar with what you’re looking for in the first place?
What’s the point of discussing your guesses, when either of us could, if we wanted to, actually check—and one of us has?
Yes. You should be asking that. And I am a motivated, informed buyer.
But the topic of discussion was cookware, not pianos. More importantly: how many people use pianos, and how many people use cookware? Which of these is more relevant to the day-to-day experience of people in our society? Which is more relevant to questions about “progress in consumer products” or the like?
It most certainly does not hold true for computers. I am hesitant to launch into the computer analogue of this argument, but I could easily provide a list, similar to the one in my top-level comment, of ways in which various computer products have degenerated in quality, etc.
Do you really think that this is not at all related to the availability (or lack thereof), via a few minutes spent online, of stuff comparable to what your girlfriend prefers to use?
The problem is precisely that aficionados, quite often, do not upgrade—in the modern sense of “switch to a newer model, and/or the more expensive version of the current models”—but rather (in that same sense) downgrade; which is to say, we switch to an older and better version of the product, which is no longer being manufactured.
And remember that we’re talking about cooking here, not some exotic activity. How many people cook? And thus (taking some fraction of that population) how many cooking “aficionados” are there? It’s not a small number! We’re not talking about a tiny, dedicated cadre of “hardcore” home cooks.
You ask if we could be enjoying better stuff at a price equivalent to what we’re now paying for the worse stuff. Consider this: in 1956, a 10.5-inch Griswold cast-iron skillet cost $2.69 ($27.53 in 2021 dollars). Today, you cannot purchase a comparable item for that price, or even for twice that price. Why is this? Shouldn’t technological advancements make it cheaper to manufacture simple household goods? If it’s now impossible to produce an item of comparable quality for an equal or lower price—why? What has gone wrong?
But this isn’t the case for cookware. The market for high-quality stuff isn’t small. Demand can’t be satisfied by the second-hand market. Knowledge of how to make the nice stuff hasn’t died out. It’s just that it’s more profitable to have many of your customers purchase low-quality goods, be dissatisfied with them, and then be unable to do anything about it.
But I’ve given at least a half-dozen examples where that’s manifestly not the case. Are you simply saying that cases like the ones I’ve described constitute a minority of all consumer goods? If so, then on what basis would you make this claim?
Yes. You’ve got it. This is precisely what is happening, in the cases that I’ve described, and in many, many others. (Once again, see Bruce Tognazzini’s famous essay on this dynamic.)
I’m sorry, but this reads to me like a declaration of faith. If multiple counterexamples (just in one category of goods!), described in detail by someone well-versed in the relevant domain, don’t cause you to update your beliefs on this, is your view truly a reasonable one?
The “buy a handcrafted piece on commission” comment is, frankly, laughable, and I’ll assume that you did not mean it seriously. As for buying vintage—yes, of course I can do this. But: firstly, it’s not even always possible to buy vintage (for example, the springform pan I described is often simply unavailable on eBay and similar sites). And second—the more things I have to buy vintage, the more this seems to me to be an obvious indication that our society’s ability to provide essential products is deeply unhealthy.