For centuries, to build any device, artisans had to painstakingly cut every screw, bolt, or nut by hand. But all this changed in the 1790s, when British metalworker Henry Maudslay developed this highly precise lathe. Suddenly, these previously handmade components could be reproduced mechanically, and at scale.
This may seem like a simple innovation, but it had a profound effect on the world. The standardization of these parts helped usher in the Industrial Revolution. From cars to home appliances, the 20th century was defined by mass production and readily available interchangeable parts.
This made repairing items relatively easy. If your shower head gasket failed or the hose for your washing machine sprang a leak, a hardware store likely carried replacements. Today, interchangeable parts are as important as ever for mass production.
However, some companies are working hard to prevent consumers from swapping out components on their own. In many cases, repair can only be done by the original manufacturer, if at all. With limited repair options available, we end up buying new and throwing more items out.
This is especially true for electronics. In 2022, we discarded about 62 million tons of e-waste, along with billions of dollars’ worth of precious metals inside of them. So how exactly do companies prevent repair?
Some make it physically more difficult to fix items. They can glue parts in place rather than using screws. Others limit the information they share with consumers, like blocking public access to product information and schematics.
During the pandemic, for instance, when hospitals struggled to maintain breaking medical equipment, the repair company iFixit compiled a comprehensive database of repair manuals for hospitals to use. Yet manufacturers like Steris fought for them to be taken down. Yet perhaps the most important, yet least obvious, way companies limit repair is by preventing the interchangeability of parts.
In a process known as parts pairings, companies assign individual parts like screens, batteries, or sensors a unique serial number. The device's internal software can then detect if those components are replaced and limit their functionality as a result. If you swap the screen on two brand new iPhones, for example, the automatic brightness adjustment will no longer work.
In other cases, unauthorized replacements can cause the device to stop functioning altogether. If a farmer uses an independent shop to repair certain parts in a John Deere tractor, it won’t operate until a company technician authenticates the new part using authorized software. With only a limited number of company technicians available, this can easily create a bottleneck, costing farmers precious time and money, and even jeopardizing crops.
Manufacturers can also use software to give devices predetermined end-of-life dates, after which, they no longer receive important updates, and slowly become unusable. All this gives manufacturers unprecedented control over the products we buy and limits the way we repair them. Critics liken these tactics to a form of planned obsolescence, a manufacturing strategy where a product is deliberately designed to fail, to keep both demand and profits high.
But companies pose two main arguments in defense of these practices. First, they claim that giving consumers and third-party repair shops access to their software could create cybersecurity risks. They also argue that they could be liable if a product malfunctions after a third party or consumer repair.
A shoddy repair to a medical device, for instance, could have deadly consequences, and the manufacturer could be blamed. However, major reports, like those from the US Federal Trade Commission and the Food and Drg Administration find little support for these company claims. Parts pairing and repair limiting practices are now being closely scrutinized in courts all over the world, as consumers fight for the right to repair.
And states, including Colorado and Oregon, have passed laws banning parts pairing. Community-led movements have also taken root. Over 2,500 cities across the globe, from Amsterdam to Boise to Bangalore, have established repair cafes.
Here, people trade and share their knowledge, reinvigorating a culture of repair at a time when it often feels easier to toss our things than fix them.
