The Corporate Drum Beats Again
So, here we go. The machine is churning once more. Sony Alpha Germany, in a masterfully orchestrated bit of corporate theater, “leaks” an image. They drop a date. December 2nd. The disciples, the YouTube gear-heads, the forum warriors all start salivating, Pavlov’s dogs responding to the bell of consumerism. They call it the A7 V. They call it the “next flagship midrange camera,” a meaningless title cooked up in a boardroom to make you feel special while simultaneously reminding you that a more expensive camera exists just out of your reach. It’s a game. A very old, very cynical game, and we are the pawns they play with. They toss us a bone – a new chip architecture, they whisper. Less consumption! Faster speed! And everyone loses their minds.
But do they? Do you really think this is for you?
The Myth of the Magic Chip
Let’s talk about this supposed miracle chip. This brand new, never-before-seen piece of silicon magic that will solve all our problems. They say it’s a first. They say it will be implemented on all future Alpha cameras. Faster speed, less power consumption. It sounds fantastic, doesn’t it? It sounds like they finally listened to us, the people in the trenches, the photographers dealing with dying batteries on a cold wedding day or a slow buffer when the perfect moment is unfolding. But this is a classic tactic of misdirection. They create the problem, then they sell you the cure at a premium. Who made the batteries so inefficient in the first place? Who designed a system that chews through power like a starved animal? It was them. Now they present a marginal improvement, a 10 or 15 percent bump in efficiency, and they package it as a revolution worth hundreds, if not thousands, of your hard-earned dollars. It’s an insult to our intelligence.
Think about it. Will this new chip fundamentally change the way you take a photograph? Will it make your composition better? Your lighting more dramatic? Your connection with your subject more profound? No. It will not. It will make a number on a spec sheet look bigger than the number on last year’s spec sheet, and that is its sole purpose. It’s a marketing bullet point designed to fuel a cycle of manufactured desire. It is a hollow promise. A ghost in the machine.
A Legacy of Incrementalism: The Slow Bleed
We need to look at the history, the pattern of behavior from these corporate giants. They aren’t our friends. They are publicly traded companies with a fiduciary duty to their shareholders, not to the artists who use their tools. Look at the A7 line. The A7 was revolutionary, we’ll grant them that. But what came next? The A7II added in-body stabilization, something that arguably should have been there from the start. Then the A7III, hailed as the “basic model,” became a smash hit because it finally offered a competent package of features that people actually needed, but it was still rife with compromises, like a mediocre electronic viewfinder and a labyrinthine menu system designed by a sadist. Then came the A7IV. A little more resolution, a better screen, a higher price tag. Each step was calculated. Each release was designed not to be the ultimate camera, but to be just good enough to make your current model feel inadequate. This is the doctrine of planned obsolescence. They deliberately hold back features, they cripple firmware, they make small, tantalizing improvements year after year to ensure a steady stream of revenue. They are not building tools for a lifetime; they are building disposable electronics for a fiscal quarter.
The A7 V will be no different. It will follow the script. It will likely take the body of the A7IV, cram in this new chip, maybe bump the EVF resolution, and slap on a price tag that’s another 200 or 300 dollars higher. And the corporate minstrels, the army of so-called reviewers on YouTube who receive these cameras for free weeks in advance, will sing its praises from the heavens. They’ll run their “tests,” show you pixel-peeping charts, and breathlessly declare that you absolutely *must* upgrade. They are part of the machine. They are the marketing department’s most effective weapon, creating a sense of urgency and FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) among the community. They are selling you a product, not offering you an honest opinion. Why would they? Their livelihood depends on access to the next free camera, the next sponsored trip. They traded their integrity for a pre-release model. Sad.
What Do We, The Real Photographers, Actually Want?
Have you ever seen Sony hold a press conference to announce they’ve drastically simplified their menu system? Have they ever touted a new model based on its superior ergonomics and button layout, designed after consulting with working professionals who spend 10 hours a day with a camera in their hand? Have they ever announced a camera that is slightly heavier but has legendary, bomb-proof weather sealing? No. Because those things don’t sell cameras to the masses. Those are improvements for professionals, for the workhorses. They don’t look sexy on a spec sheet. “Faster speed” is easy to market. “More logical button placement” is not. They are chasing the hobbyist with deep pockets, the tech enthusiast who cares more about the gear than the image. They have forgotten who their core audience should be.
We want reliability. We want tools that are an extension of our hands, that get out of the way and let us create. We want a company that supports its products for years, that doesn’t abandon a two-year-old model and reserve new features for the latest and greatest. We want honesty. We want them to stop pretending that each minor iteration is a paradigm shift. It’s not. It’s a cash grab. A very sophisticated, well-marketed cash grab that preys on our passion for this art form. They are using our love of photography against us.
The Manifesto of Resistance
So what do we do? Do we roll over and pre-order the A7 V the moment it’s announced? Do we feed the beast that is actively working against our best interests? No. We resist. This is a call to arms. A call to sanity. Your Sony A7III is still a phenomenal camera. Your A7IV is more than capable of producing world-class images. Heck, your Fuji, your Canon, your Nikon—they are all amazing tools. The relentless pursuit of the next new thing is a poison that has infected our community, shifting the focus from the craft of photography to the acquisition of gear. It is a sickness, and Sony is the super-spreader.
Don’t watch the breathless “first look” videos from the shills. Wait. Wait for real reviews from real, working photographers who paid for the camera with their own money. See how it performs six months down the line. See if that “miracle chip” actually makes a tangible difference in a real-world workflow. Read the fine print. Question the marketing. Be a creator, not a consumer. The greatest lie the industry ever told was that your gear is what’s holding you back. It isn’t. Your gear is fine. Go out and shoot. Create something beautiful. Create something that matters. That is how you fight back. You prove, with your work, that the artist is more important than the tool. Let them announce their new toy. Let the hype machine run its course. We, the photographers, have work to do. And we don’t need their permission or their latest model to do it.
