I'm old enough to remember when we didn’t toss out a toaster just because the cord frayed—or a laptop because the battery faded. Back then, every town had a repair shop or two, run by folks who knew their craft and cared about keeping things going. We fixed things not because it was trendy or "eco-conscious"—we did it because it made sense. It saved money, respected craftsmanship, and built community.
Today, those small shops have almost all vanished, squeezed out by sealed devices and corporate service monopolies. But I believe we can bring that spirit back. The right to repair isn’t just about tech access—it’s about restoring common sense, local jobs, and a little dignity to the gadgets we depend on.
Have you ever taken your trusty laptop into a repair shop, only to be told they can’t fix it because they “don’t support that model”?
That frustrating moment hits a nerve. It’s your information, your investment, and yet someone else dictates if you can use it or not. The right to repair movement fights back: it empowers consumers and independent shops to restore devices we already own.
Whether it’s a high-end MacBook, a rugged smartphone, or a custom gaming PC, shouldn’t we all have the freedom to repair, not replace? Let’s explore why this matters—technologically, economically, and ethically—as the world moves toward more sustainable, consumer-focused solutions.
In a rare moment of bipartisan unity, Texas just made history by becoming the seventh U.S. state to pass a Right to Repair law, winning by a landslide victory, with not a single vote against it". The bipartisan legislation sailed through with zero opposition, marking a significant milestone in the national repair movement. The law focuses on agricultural equipment for now, but its implications go far beyond tractors and harvesters.
It signals a growing recognition—across political lines—that consumers should have the power to fix what they own. Texas is known for its independent spirit, and this move aligns perfectly with that ethos: empowering local repair businesses, supporting rural economies, and giving individuals more control over their property.
Imagine strolling through a tech bazaar in Texas, and you're drawn to stalls offering refurbished laptops—sleek machines given new life by skilled technicians. The allure isn’t just the price tag; it’s the idea of longevity. But back in your home, which is not one of the seven, Repair to Repair states - your device is rejected.
The right to repair movement challenges that gatekeeping. It demands access to replacement parts, repair manuals, and software diagnostics—resources that manufacturers often monopolize. That’s not just about fixing things—it’s about autonomy. It's about saying: “Yes, I own this. I should decide its destiny.”
During my last trip to a luxury resort in Dorado, I noticed how sustainability permeates every aspect, from solar-powered buggies to recycled decor. There’s harmony in that eco-conscious design. But if we keep tossing electronics every time they glitch, we undermine that effort. The right to repair supports a circular economy where quality gear lasts, gets serviced, and eventually recycled, not landfilled.
As an AI and tech enthusiast, I dive deep into smart devices—from home automation gadgets to solar-energy monitoring stations. Many of these rely on embedded chips, proprietary software, and calibration tools that only the manufacturer can access. But when docs and firmware are walled off, we lose control. Imagine a solar inverter malfunctioning during a Caribbean thunderstorm—you’re stranded without local tech support. If independent techs had those repair tools, restoration would be faster, cheaper, and more reliable.
Yes, manufacturers argue they need closed systems to protect IP or safety. There’s merit there, especially for high-voltage gear or aerospace components. But too often, that argument masks profit motives: forced obsolescence and service monopolies. That hurts consumers and hobbles innovation. By demanding transparency and access, the right to repair restores balance.
One overlooked benefit? Local economies. In Puerto Rico, where entrepreneurship and innovation thrive, empowering repair shops can spark new business. Crews who refurbish gaming consoles, smartphones, or solar inverters don't just extend device lifespan—they build tech expertise and jobs. That’s especially important in smaller markets across the Caribbean.
During my stay in Culebra, a tiny repair shop near the ferry terminal surprised me. They fixed smartwatches and tablets with creative, homemade tools. No fancy certification—just grit and resourcefulness. They could thrive and tap global supply chains for parts—but only if access became easier. A right to repair law would legitimize their work, reduce import barriers, and boost their credibility.
Let’s talk sustainability. E‑waste is one of the fastest-growing waste streams worldwide. When you can’t repair something, you wind up replacing it, and often the old device isn’t recycled properly. It might sit in a drawer, get sent overseas, or even end up in a landfill. That’s bad for everyone, especially the planet.
Right-to-repair also has a justice angle. Lower‑income users and community centers often depend on refurbished devices. Schools, libraries, and non‑profits—they stretch every dollar. If they can’t access affordable repair, whole segments of society miss out on technology. Even if you live in upscale Dorado with solar‑powered homes, your neighbor might be relying on a refurbished laptop to keep a business going.
In the U.S., right-to-repair legislation has made headway in states like Massachusetts for cars, forcing automakers to share diagnostics with independent mechanics. But for electronics and appliances, the fight continues. Puerto Rico doesn’t yet have comprehensive right-to-repair protection, though local advocacy groups are starting to raise awareness.
Globally, the EU has enacted “ecodesign” rules. The Ecodesign for Sustainable Products Regulation (ESPR) requires manufacturers to make domestic appliance parts replaceable. But in many jurisdictions, laptops, smartphones, and other gadgets remain locked down. That needs to change. Consumers deserve clarity on what they can do with products they’ve paid for.
The ESPR will require businesses to adapt their product design and manufacturing processes to meet the new sustainability standards.
Companies will need to ensure their products meet requirements related to energy efficiency, durability, reparability, recyclability, and material composition.
Reporting on unsold goods and potential destruction bans will also be necessary.
Want to push the momentum forward? Here’s how:
Speak up. Sign petitions supporting right-to-repair laws. Local chapters of environmental groups often organize campaigns.
Support indie shops. Rather than ditch that MacBook for the latest flashy model, find a trusted local technician. Let them flourish.
Look for repairable products. Some brands designed with modularity and parts transparency in mind. They often slap logos like “EPEAT Gold” or “Right-to-Repair.”
Educate others. Share your own repair stories—successful or not. The Italian proverb chi non risica non rosica (“nothing ventured, nothing gained”) applies: raising these voices yields impact.
Picture a region where small repair hubs boast solar-powered micro-grids, 3D printers, and open-sourced diagnostics—where locals fix smartphones, EV batteries, and even drones used for mangrove mapping. That’s the future: resilient, sustainable, and under local control.
Of course, the journey won’t be easy. Manufacturers resist. Legal constraints persist. Training is needed. But every tiny win—an indie shop fixes your iPad battery, a school refurbishes its desktop lab—is a step toward tech sovereignty.
As a writer, I can’t resist the irony: here we are, in 2025, with electric cars and AI homes, yet unable to fix a broken power button without jumping through hoops. It’s like having a chef’s knife you can’t sharpen or a luxury yacht you can’t maintain—because some corporation says you can’t.
But there’s hope. Puerto Rico’s blend of sunshine, resilience, and creative spirit makes it fertile ground for a repair revolution. Couple that with global momentum, and we could spark something amazing—a wave of empowered consumers, local tech entrepreneurship, and longer-lasting gear.
So next time you walk into a repair shop and hear “we can’t fix that,” don’t shrug and walk away. Ask: “Why not?” Try requesting access to manuals, parts, and software. Push for more transparency. Support the people who try.
Because repair isn’t just technical—it’s philosophical. It’s about autonomy, sustainability, and respect for what we own. It’s about saying: “We deserve better.” And in that spirit, the right to repair isn’t just a slogan—it’s a movement. A movement that, yes, even in the sun‑soaked streets of Old San Juan, can help shape a smarter, greener future.