Why Your Favorite Apps Keep Getting Worse While Charging You More

Last month, I paid $10.98 for my Spotify Premium subscription. This month, same account, same "premium" experience, but I started noticing something odd. Playlists filled with artists I'd never heard of, songs that sounded just slightly off. Almost human but not quite. Turns out, Spotify has been quietly padding playlists with AI-generated music to cut licensing costs. Meanwhile, my Grab to work that used to cost $12 now regularly hits $18 during the morning rush. Netflix just sent another email about raising prices again. If you're feeling like every app you use daily is getting worse while somehow costing more, you're not imagining it. There's actually a term for this, and understanding it might change how you think about every platform in your life.
What Is Enshittification (And Why It Matters to You)
The term 'enshittification' was coined by writer Cory Doctorow in 2023. By 2024, it became so relevant that the Australian dictionary picked it as their word of the year. It describes the deliberate degradation of online platforms and services over time as companies prioritize profits over user experience. Here's the thing: this isn't accidental decay or poor management. It's a calculated three-stage process.
First, platforms attract users by offering genuinely good service. Think about when Grab first launched in Singapore, undercutting taxi prices and offering promo codes left and right. Or when Netflix was $9.99 and had seemingly every show you wanted. Stage two: once users are locked in, platforms shift focus to business customers. They squeeze suppliers, reduce transparency, and introduce fees. Finally, stage three: they degrade the experience for everyone, users and business partners alike, to extract maximum profit for shareholders.
This matters because we're living through this on every platform we use daily. Over 50% of social media traffic is now driven by bots and AI-generated content, according to recent research. The apps we rely on aren't getting worse by accident. They're being constantly adjusted to maximize short-term profits without regard for our experience. And in 2026, we even saw legal confirmation: Google was found to have intentionally made its search product worse, cluttering results with ads and sponsored content.
Spotify's AI Music: Paying Premium for Algorithmic Slop
I've been a Spotify Premium subscriber since 2015. I paid for access to millions of songs from real artists, curated playlists, and ad-free listening. But in 2025-2026, something shifted. Spotify started incorporating AI-generated music into playlists, especially in ambient, lo-fi, and background music categories. The company doesn't prominently disclose this, but if you start checking those 'chill study beats' or 'relaxing piano' playlists, you'll notice artists with generic names, zero social media presence, and millions of streams.
Why does Spotify do this? Simple economics. They don't have to pay licensing fees to real artists for AI-generated tracks. They maintain subscription prices at $10.98 per month while quietly replacing human-created content with synthetic alternatives that cost them almost nothing to produce. You're still paying the same amount, but the value you're receiving has fundamentally changed.
This is textbook enshittification. Spotify attracted us with access to human artists, locked us in with our curated playlists and listening history (switching costs are high when you've spent years building your music library), and now they're degrading the product while maintaining prices. The question I keep asking myself: at what point does 'Spotify Premium' just become a premium subscription to algorithmic background noise?
Grab's Opacity: When Convenience Becomes Exploitation
Remember when Grab first disrupted Singapore's taxi industry? The pricing was transparent, cheaper than cabs, and both drivers and riders felt like they were winning. Fast forward to 2026, and the experience has fundamentally shifted for both sides of the marketplace.
For riders, dynamic surge pricing can multiply fares by 3-5 times during peak hours. That morning commute that used to cost $12 now regularly hits $18-22 during the 8am rush, with little transparency about why or how the algorithm calculates these prices. For drivers, commission cuts have increased while transparency around earnings has decreased. Many drivers report earning less per hour than they did three years ago, despite riders paying significantly more.
This is the classic enshittification squeeze. Grab attracted riders with low prices and drivers with good earnings. Once both groups were locked into the platform (riders deleted their taxi apps, drivers bought cars or committed to full-time driving), Grab started extracting value from both ends. The platform optimizes for its own profit margin, not for rider affordability or driver welfare. And because of network effects, you can't easily switch. Where else are you going to get a ride in Singapore at 7am when you're running late?
Netflix: The Annual Price Hike Ritual
Netflix's enshittification follows a more straightforward pattern: consistent price increases while reducing content investment and introducing more restrictions. I started with Netflix at around $10-12 per month years ago. Now the standard plan is pushing $17-19, and they've introduced ad-supported tiers (which means paying to avoid ads on a service that never had ads originally), cracked down on password sharing, and arguably reduced their content quality as they chase subscriber growth over viewer satisfaction.
The frustrating part isn't just the price increases. It's that the value proposition has inverted. You're now paying more for a more restricted, more fragmented experience. The promise was: pay one monthly fee, get access to tons of content, share with your family. The reality in 2026: pay significantly more, watch ads if you want the cheaper tier, can't share your account, and the content library feels less compelling as studios pull their shows to launch competing platforms.
Netflix has you locked in through a combination of original content (you can't watch Squid Game anywhere else), viewing history and recommendations (switching costs), and habit (it's the default). So they can steadily degrade the offering while increasing prices, and most of us just grumble and keep paying.
Why Can't We Just Leave?
If these platforms are getting worse, why don't we just quit and find alternatives? This is the key insight into how enshittification persists: switching costs and network lock-in effects.
For Spotify, switching means losing your curated playlists, listening history, algorithm that knows your taste, and integration with your devices. For Grab, it means having to install and learn multiple apps, none of which have the same driver network. For Netflix, it means losing access to original content and your viewing history. You've invested time, data, and money into these platforms. They know it, and that's precisely why they can degrade the service.
Currently, there's no real solution at scale. Proposed ideas include the 'end-to-end principle' (platforms should transmit data based on your requests, not algorithmic manipulation) and 'right of exit' (interoperability that lets you leave with all your data and connections intact). But neither exists in any meaningful way in 2026, which is exactly why enshittification continues unchecked across every major platform we use.
The uncomfortable truth: when you use 'free' services like TikTok, Instagram, or YouTube, you're not the customer. You're the product being sold to advertisers. But even when you do pay, as with Spotify, Grab, or Netflix, platforms still treat you as a resource to be optimized against once they've achieved sufficient market dominance.
What This Means for Singapore's Digital Experience
For those of us living in Singapore, one of the most digitally connected societies globally, enshittification hits particularly hard. We've adopted these platforms faster and more comprehensively than most places. Grab is essential infrastructure. Spotify and Netflix are cultural staples. We don't have the luxury of opting out without significant lifestyle friction.
This also extends to the gig economy platforms that many Singaporeans depend on for income or convenience: Foodpanda, Shopee, Lazada. They all follow identical patterns. Initial generous incentives for both workers and customers, followed by reduced commissions, increased fees, lower transparency, and greater precarity for workers. The algorithm always wins, the platform extracts value, and individuals on both sides lose.
The 2026 Google antitrust finding should be a wake-up call. If even Google, with all its resources and reputation, was caught deliberately degrading search results, what do you think less-scrutinized platforms are doing with your experience? Every feed you scroll, every price you see, every recommendation you receive has been algorithmically adjusted not for your benefit, but for the platform's profit margin.
◆Key Takeaway
So what can you actually do about this? First, recognize it. Understanding enshittification helps you see these patterns as deliberate corporate strategy rather than inevitable technological evolution. Second, reduce your lock-in where possible. Export your Spotify playlists regularly. Maintain accounts on multiple ride-sharing platforms. Don't invest too deeply in any single ecosystem. Third, vote with your attention and money when alternatives exist. Support platforms that respect users, even if they're less convenient.\n\nMore importantly, this is about digital literacy in 2026. Knowing that over 50% of what you see on social media is bot-driven or AI-generated changes how you consume content. Understanding that platforms optimize against you once you're locked in changes how you evaluate new services. The next time an app seems too good to be true with its introductory offers, ask yourself: what will this look like in three years once I'm dependent on it? Because if there's one lesson from Spotify's AI music, Grab's opaque pricing, and Netflix's endless price hikes, it's that the enshittification pattern is predictable. The only question is whether we keep falling for it.
This blog post represents my personal observations and research as of 2026. Platform policies, pricing, and features change frequently. I encourage you to fact-check specific claims about any platform mentioned and form your own conclusions based on your experience.
I have no formal affiliation with or sponsorship from any platforms mentioned in this article. Views expressed are my own based on available research and personal experience.