Planned Obsolescence vs. Circular Design

This isn’t an accident. It’s the logic of planned obsolescence — a business model that makes cars harder to repair so new ones can be sold faster. Against that tide, a quieter movement is emerging: circular design, where vehicles are built to be repaired, reused, and recycled.

The clash between these two philosophies is reshaping the global auto industry. And for everyday drivers, it decides one simple question: who really owns your car — you, or the company that built it?

The Business of Built-In Expiry

Planned obsolescence isn’t new. Automakers have flirted with it for decades — from sealed transmissions that “don’t need service” (until they fail) to infotainment systems that stop receiving updates after a few years.

But the digital era has made it more powerful. Today’s cars are rolling computers, with 80 to 100 control modules managing everything from brakes to cabin lights. Many of those modules are VIN-locked — coded to a specific vehicle at the factory. Swap one into another car, and it simply won’t work without dealer-level reprogramming.

On paper, this protects safety and prevents theft. In practice, it locks out independent repairers and dismantlers. A perfectly good ECU, alternator, or seat module can be rendered useless simply because it’s “married” to another car’s identity.

That’s not just wasteful — it’s profitable. A customer forced to buy a new module from the dealer keeps the revenue flowing. The software encryption that protects the manufacturer’s intellectual property also protects its margins.

Critics call this the “Apple-ization” of the auto industry: sleek hardware, closed ecosystems, and carefully controlled lifespans. The result is that perfectly functional cars end up scrapped, not because they’re broken, but because they’ve been digitally orphaned.

The Cost of Control

The economic consequences are huge. According to the European Circular Economy Observatory, more than 11 million tons of reusable automotive material are lost each year due to repair restrictions and software locks.

For independent garages, it’s a constant battle. They buy certified diagnostic tools, subscribe to data portals, and still find entire systems hidden behind proprietary coding. What used to be a simple swap — an airbag module, a steering column, an adaptive light unit — now requires online authorization. Without access, the car won’t start, or a warning light stays on indefinitely.

The environmental cost runs parallel. Manufacturing a new component consumes raw materials and energy that could’ve been saved by reusing an existing one. Yet many parts that could live another decade end up in the shredder because there’s no legal way to reinstall them.

Even automakers that publicly support sustainability often draw the line at repairability. Their circular economy reports celebrate recycled plastics and bio-based seat foam but stay silent on digital restrictions that make mechanical reuse impossible.

Meanwhile, the used-parts ecosystem — a vital pillar of sustainability — keeps finding workarounds. Dismantlers across Europe harvest functioning modules, pair them with donor data, and share compatibility databases that grow more precise each year. Marketplaces such as Ovoko make this transparent, letting workshops cross-reference OE numbers, donor vehicles, and software indexes before buying.

These grassroots systems are the antidote to obsolescence: practical, data-driven, and built by the very people manufacturers have overlooked.

The Pushback: Circular Design as Strategy

Not all automakers are playing the obsolescence game. A few are designing cars for disassembly from day one — and in doing so, they’re earning loyalty from both customers and regulators.

Volvo, for example, now requires all major components in its EVs to be traceable, recyclable, and easy to replace. BMW’s i Vision Circular concept takes the idea further: every part can be reused, melted, or repurposed, with no glue or permanent bonding. Renault has gone even more practical, opening its own circular factory near Paris that refurbishes engines, electronics, and battery packs for resale.

This approach isn’t just environmental — it’s economic insurance. As supply chains tighten, manufacturers who control their own reuse systems gain stability. They rely less on mining and more on what they already have.

Circular design also aligns with upcoming EU regulation. From 2027 onward, new laws will require automakers to disclose part availability periods and guarantee data access for independent repairers. Those who resist will face fines or lose market access in regions where the “right to repair” is now considered a sustainability issue, not just a consumer one.

The shift isn’t ideological — it’s practical. Circular design extends the business model beyond the showroom. Instead of selling one car, manufacturers can sell the same parts multiple times: first new, then refurbished, then recycled. It’s profitability through longevity rather than obsolescence.

The Future: Ownership, Access, and Accountability

The battle between planned obsolescence and circular design boils down to one idea: ownership. If a manufacturer can remotely disable or block a replacement part, you don’t fully own your car — you license it.

The irony is that consumers are finally noticing. The same people who fight smartphone repair monopolies are starting to ask why a tail light needs a digital signature to function. Online communities now track which brands are friendly to repair and which hide behind “safety justifications.” Those reputations spread fast.

A growing number of workshops have begun prioritizing circular-ready brands — cars that care easy to work on, rich in available used parts, and transparent in data access. This trend has even influenced resale values. In markets like Scandinavia, vehicles known for part compatibility and modular design hold higher prices after five years. Repairability has become a form of reliability.

For dismantlers, the direction is clear. They’re evolving into data companies as much as recyclers — storing repair histories, cataloging OE updates, and using traceability systems that rival manufacturer databases. In time, the independent sector could become more transparent than the factories themselves.

But real progress will depend on regulation. As the EU finalizes its right-to-repair framework, the balance of power is shifting. Manufacturers who continue to encrypt, restrict, or monopolize repair will find themselves at odds with public policy — and public opinion.

Circular design is not a trend. It’s the next competitive frontier.

A New Kind of Loyalty

Carmakers have always chased brand loyalty through aesthetics, performance, and marketing. But tomorrow’s loyalty will come from longevity. Drivers will return to the brands that respect ownership — the ones that make repairs easy, data open, and parts reusable.

Circular design is good business precisely because it feels like good ethics. It rewards transparency and keeps value circulating where it belongs: among the people who build, fix, and drive cars every day.

And as marketplaces and dismantlers grow more connected, the circular economy is no longer an idea waiting for approval — it’s already running. You can see it every time a refurbished ECU keeps a ten-year-old car on the road, or when a used headlight travels from Tallinn to Turin instead of to a landfill.

Planned obsolescence tries to end stories early. Circular design writes new chapters. The choice between the two is no longer theoretical — it’s visible in the way we repair, reuse, and rebuild what we drive.