My first phone was a Nokia 3210, a cute grey brick with just enough computing power to run Snake. Compared with today’s sleek 5G touchscreen devices it was pretty pants, except in one way: I could repair it. The case, keyboard and battery could, without any special tools, be disassembled and replaced when they cracked or wore out. Unlike iPhones, which arrived on the market as impressive but inscrutable hermetic black boxes – impossible for customers to fix at home – my old Nokia was designed for repair.
Today, however, many manufacturers deliberately discourage mending by making their products hard or confusing to tinker with. This inevitably means more rubbish, with the UN estimating that the volume of electronic waste is rising five times faster than recycling rates. Though on paper, the UK government has set ambitious targets to halve the amount of waste Britons produce by 2042, in practice less mending means more demand for more new products, stimulating consumption and fuelling economic growth. For politicians more anxious about growing GDP than wellbeing, repair has simply not been a priority.
