Obsolescence Pays: The Epson Printer Saga Continues

Epson cleaned up its story on why it is using software to brick perfectly functional inkjet printers. We take a look at what changed (some words) and what hasn’t (the company’s business model.)

We open on a lush forest landscape. the sound of gentle strings slowly fade in as the camera cuts to a flowing stream. We hear the calming sound of water dripping off moss-covered rocks. Breathtaking shots of nature in a forest, including what looks to be a heron as the sun begins to kiss the morning sky. “This is the land from which Epson emerged”

This was a video celebrating the 80th anniversary of Epson, a company that we covered earlier this summer for intentionally bricking its printers when sponges soaked up too much ink – arguing it was danger to consumers to continue printing.

The tweet associated with the video says:

“Technology has value only in its capacity to serve people. Over our 80 years, many of our creations have traveled to every corner of the Earth, solving issues with new technologies. This is our journey!”

The only response to the original tweet which received 2 likes, perfectly cuts through the PR bullshit;

“last Epson printer I will ever buy. Can't use alternative ink cartridges.”

I laughed out loud.

As much as companies greenwash, rainbow-wash, or repair-wash, the reality is they're selling us products, not identities or stories about how (in the case of Epson) technology serves humanity. People don’t care about the narratives companies spin about their products if they are ultimately told that they don’t really control what they thought was their property; or if they’re being nickel- and dime’d by manufacturers who are using their technology to squeeze money out of them at every chance they get.

Why anti-repair tactics make you want to kill your printer

Printers are notoriously finicky. Sometimes it’s a physical issue like a paper jam or uneven distribution of ink and toner. But, increasingly, it is software causing the issue. Firmware and driver issues, WiFi connectivity, and (now) software imposed “end of life” and bricking rituals are all on the table for reasons as to why you can’t print.

Since Paul wrote his piece on Epson’s pre-programmed obsolescence, Epson made a number of changes to their public communications on device repair. The company eased off language urging customers to send in their printer for service by “authorized” repair professionals or nudguing customers to buy an entirely new printer (again: because of some saturated sponges). That said, as far as we know, the existing code causing the printer to stop working has not been changed.

“Underscoring Epson’s commitment to supporting its customers, this website has been updated to clear up any misconceptions regarding the serviceability and lifecycle of Epson printers.”

Has it? There is a lot to unpack in the changes Epson made, which are a window into the company’s thinking and sheds light on what motivates companies to promote throwing away their products. So let’s take a look!

Consumer safety rings hollow

 “The printers are designed to stop operating at the point where further use without replacing the ink pads could create risks of property damage from ink spills or safety issues related to excess ink contacting an electrical component.”

Epson removed this sentence from their website as part of their updated guidance on printer repair, showing the hollowness of companies arguing for consumer safety.

A good-faith interpretation of the consumer safety argument is that the United States is an extremely litigious society where everyone is trying to sue everyone for anything.

A less generous read is that by conjuring images of printers lighting on fire due to improper sponge maintenance, you lower the likelihood of someone maintaining their device and instead promote trashing it for a new model. Not considered: the economic and environmental impact of throwing away a working and serviceable piece of office equipment and adding 10-15 pounds of e-waste to the already swollen river of the stuff in landfills across the globe.

Confusing consumers pays

Friction in consumer experience plays a huge role in whether someone opts to fix something they’ve bought. Amazon lets you buy tens of thousands of items from its inventory with a single swipe. Epson, however, gives you zero guidance -written or otherwise- on how to replace a sponge in one of its inkjet printers. This isn’t to celebrate Amazon’s frictionless platform, but to show that global corporations build friction into deprecated activities (like repair) while heaping investments to streamline other activities (buying new stuff) in ways that nudge and shape the behavior of consumers. Here we see it first hand: Epson is creating friction around repair and maintenance which is nudging consumers to buy new printers to replace hardware that is perfectly functional. The frictionless online buying experience guides them along, leading to more trashed printers, e-waste, and needless expense all in the name of profit.

Authorized personnel only!

"Epson does not recommend that users without technical training undertake service of the components inside the printers."

This is another bit of language the company pulled off their website.

The idea that you shouldn't replace the sponges in your printer is clearly ridiculous. Here’s a YouTube video that shows you how - it’s not hard. However, if you're a company that wants to sell more printers every quarter, obscuring repair to make it seem like only authorized repair providers can fix your printer, depicting this simple repair as horrifically complex and even physically dangerous is a logical move.

When you create a narrative of complexity and danger around your product, why wouldn’t your customers be afraid to repair their printer? By making a printer seem like a complex piece of software embedded machinery that couldn't possibly be fixed by an average person, companies relegate this piece of equipment to the bucket of complicated and confusing software-driven product that is better fixed by someone else. If you’re a motivated repair-enthusiast who stands ready to fix the printer, it’s a good reminder to know you remain the small minority in the broader market.

“Replace the printer with a purchase from your preferred retailer. Also, you can recycle your printer either locally or through Epson's recycling program (**US** or **Canada**).” 

The language above (also removed), encouraging customers to replace their printers while highlighting a recycling program, is the natural end to this obscuring tactic. Pay us to fix your device – or better yet, buy a new printer. We (might) recycle it so you don’t have to feel bad about it getting trashed.

By creating friction and maintaining obscurity around repair, fixing products remains out of the hands of everyday people.

Instead customers are funneled into the network of authorized service providers. The $6 sponges now include the cost of shipping and labor to fix your device through Epson’s “low-cost ink pad replacement service”. Companies know this, are capitalizing on the veneer of complexity, especially around computerized devices like printers, to rake in money.

You should be grateful for unrepairable design?

“Why not just make the Ink Pads a user-replaceable item? Implementing this type of design would result in more expensive printers. Most users would not benefit from such higher costs because their printers will never reach the Parts End of Life message.

This piece of redacted website language begs a question.

Might “most users” be tossing their printers prematurely because companies like Epson are convincing them that a small component breaking in their printer is grounds to trash or “recycle” their existing printer and just upgrade to a new one? Wouldn't it be cheaper to just buy a sponge instead of a new, but slightly cheaper printer?

Ink pads already are a user replaceable item. A quick YouTube search will find a 4 minute YouTube video of how to unscrew the back of your Epson printer pull out the ink pads and either wash or replace them. By falsely claiming that ink pads are not user-replaceable the company is sending more printers into landfills and more money into their own pockets by way of consumers thinking they can't fix their printer.

A lesser known example of the obsolescence problem comes in the form of software obsolescence. Most printers older than a few years old no longer have updated drivers, which lets your printer communicate with your computer. That leaves older model printers vulnerable to premature obsolescence, not to mention cyber attacks, as newly discovered vulnerabilities in existing firmware and drivers goes unaddressed.

With software connected devices, both physical and digital considerations are imperative – because as we’ve seen a perfectly functional device can be brought to its death by code.

The (pipe)dream of an immortal printer

If we want to rapidly reduce e-waste and slow our habit of unfettered consumption (while keeping things we enjoy like printers) they are going to need to last far longer - years longer. Even decades. This means we need access to the information, tools and parts (as well as the encouragement) to maintain our stuff. What we get now is misinformation and discouragement.

When you add software into the mix, the problem grows. Not only must you contend with physical parts but now you have code governing the function of the device which can in turn be a pretense to restrict control over your device. This complexity quickly becomes a pretense for restricting control over products, from cars to printers to agricultural equipment.

As things stand, there is little incentive for companies to prioritize repair given it can be seen as an impediment to profits and growth. Epson is operating within a system that makes repair a risk to their success. If we are going to change the behavior of the Epsons of the world we are going to need to change the carrots (and sticks) for companies with business models based on waste and engineered obsolescence.