You’ve probably noticed the tech industry’s obsession with “more.” More megapixels, more battery, more features. But with their first folding iPhone, Apple just did the exact opposite. They took a $1,600 flagship device and violently gutted the features users have loved for years: Face ID, the telephoto lens, the physical SIM card.
Critics are already grabbing their pitchforks, screaming about “downgrades.” But they’re missing the entire point.
True product genius isn’t about what you can add. It’s about having the guts to kill what everyone else considers sacred.
If you want to understand why Apple’s folding phone is a textbook masterpiece—and not a compromised disaster—you have to understand the brutal reality of hardware design. It is a zero-sum game. When the phone is folded, each half is only 5.2 millimeters thick. That is a tiny sliver of space that has to independently house a screen, a battery, and a motherboard. If you give 1 millimeter to a thick telephoto lens, you are stealing 1 millimeter from the battery. There is no “have it all” option. There is only triage.
So how did Apple decide what lived and what died? They asked two questions: If we cut this, will the user feel acute pain? And is there a cheaper, thinner way to achieve the exact same goal?
Take Face ID. Users don’t actually care about the infrared sensor array that projects dots on their face. They care about “unlocking my phone effortlessly.” Face ID is just a means to an end. When that thick sensor hardware conflicts with the absolute thinnest screen possible, you don’t hesitate. You kill the sensor, move the fingerprint reader to the side button, and preserve the goal. The purpose remains; the means is sacrificed.
But the most fascinating part of this launch isn’t what they cut. It’s when they launched it. Apple is seven years late to the folding phone party. Samsung has been doing this since 2019. The common myth is that Apple was waiting for supply chain yields to improve. That’s a superficial read.
You don’t enter a market when you can make a product perfect. You enter when the industry has raised the passing grade, and you barely beat it.
Seven years ago, a screen crease was a fatal flaw. It was an “is this broken?” problem. Today, after years of competitors conditioning the market, a crease is just a minor aesthetic regret. Apple waited seven years for the crease to downgrade from a dealbreaker to a nitpick. By entering the market now, they don’t have to spend 100% of their resources achieving crease perfection. They just have to be slightly better than the new industry passing grade, freeing up their resources to obsess over the hinge, the 5.2mm thickness, and the massive internal screen.
Then there’s the battery. At under 4,900 mAh, spec-sheet warriors are laughing. But Apple is making a massive, counterintuitive bet. They designed the phone to be used folded 80% of the time. The external screen actually gets better battery efficiency per square inch than a standard Pro Max. The massive internal screen is a battery hog.
The most dangerous feature of a product is often its biggest selling point. You have to bet against your own hype to survive.
Apple is literally betting you won’t use their main selling point—the big screen—all the time. They want you to fold it up and use it as a normal phone, only unfolding it for specific tasks. It’s a tightrope walk between encouraging engagement and preserving battery life.
If you want to build anything meaningful, stop trying to please everyone. Look at Microsoft’s Surface Duo. It failed because it obsessed over the “means” (two screens) without answering the “purpose” (why does the user need two screens?). The software ecosystem wasn’t ready. Apple avoided this trap entirely. They didn’t invent a new screen ratio. They used a 4:3 ratio identical to the iPad, meaning millions of apps instantly knew how to function on the unfolded screen. They didn’t invent a new need; they supercharged an existing one.
Every time you make a product decision, you are playing a zero-sum game. You can’t have it all. The only question is whether you have the discipline to separate your users’ true desires from the bloated features they think they want.
Neutrality in product design is death. You don’t win by giving everyone everything. You win by deciding exactly what to sacrifice.
Apple cut Face ID, the telephoto, and the SIM card. They took those saved millimeters and spent them on a flawless hinge, an invisible crease, and a razor-thin profile. They didn’t compromise the experience. They defended it.
FAQ
Q: Isn't removing Face ID just a cheap excuse to cut costs on a $1,600 phone?
A: No, it's a thickness trade-off. Face ID requires a thick sensor array that conflicts with a folding screen's bend radius. Swapping it for a side-mounted fingerprint sensor preserves the 'effortless unlocking' purpose while saving crucial millimeters.
Q: What's the practical takeaway for my own product decisions?
A: Always separate the 'purpose' from the 'means.' Users don't want a specific feature; they want the outcome it provides. If the feature eats your most scarce resource, find a cheaper alternative that delivers the same outcome.
Q: Why did Apple wait 7 years to enter the folding market if they could have built one earlier?
A: They were waiting for psychology to change, not just supply chains. They waited until the 'crease' downgraded from a fatal flaw to a minor regret in the user's mind, allowing them to enter slightly above the passing grade and spend saved resources elsewhere.