Right to repair: Apple products

I’m not the kind of guy that longs for the “good old days” which, in truth, weren’t that great anyway. Life expectancy was twenty years shorter than it is today, infant mortality was high, and those who survived aged faster – people in their fifties already looked elderly. Food may have been more natural, but it was scarce, forget year-round meat and fish. In some parts of Italy, winter diet consisted mostly of polenta and little else. Homes were cold in winter, and cars turned into ovens in summer. And the list could go on.

But there’s one thing I do miss about the past: the ability to tinker with computers, replacing key components like the hard drive or RAM, and for desktops, even the graphics card or processor.

To be clear, today’s computers are powerhouses compared to those of 10–15 years ago, thanks in part (though not exclusively) to the increased integration of components. This integration has made modern computers unique systems, far less modular than their predecessors. However, it’s also made them harder to take apart than a Japanese puzzle box.

– Source: Image of a Japanese puzzle box generated by DALL-E via ChatGPT.

In this respect, Apple was a pioneer. If memory serves, it was the first company to push the integration of components in its hardware products. Sometimes this was justified, as with iPhones, where integrated batteries prolong their lifespan while reducing weight, or AirPods and the Apple Watch, which couldn’t exist without such integration.

But with Macs, this integration has led to an excessive closing-off of the final product, undermining the idea of computers that change the world and allow us to think different.

Take the iMac. The iMac G5, introduced in 2004, could be opened from the back by unscrewing three screws, giving access to the entire interior of the machine and allowing you to replace practically everything, even the LCD display.

But at some point, certain designers who prioritized design over functionality decided the iMac’s body should be a single piece of aluminum (unibody), with the LCD screen becoming the sole access point to the computer’s interior.

Removing a 20+ inch LCD screen isn’t something everyone can do, especially when it’s held in place not by simple screws (I can already picture the disdainful looks of the aforementioned designers) but by powerful magnets or, worse, by ultra-adhesive strips.

Once you overcome this first hurdle, even tasks like replacing the RAM or the internal battery become operations that require dismantling the entire computer, despite the Mac’s interior being almost empty.¹

Today, it’s even worse. When purchasing a Mac with an Apple Silicon processor, you must decide upfront how much RAM and SSD storage you want. Since these components are integrated into the processor (RAM) or soldered onto the logic board (SSD), their size cannot be changed later unless you replace the entire logic board (or attempt risky DIY modifications).

To ensure their new Mac lasts longer, many users opt for higher specs from the start. But this means accepting Apple’s outrageous prices: €230 more to upgrade from the tiny 256 GB SSD to a more reasonable 512 GB, €460 for a 1 TB upgrade, or €230 for every additional 8 GB of RAM.²

The ironic part? Today’s iMacs are as thin as a MacBook Air but are practically empty inside. And they’re once again easy to disassemble. With so much free space, would it have been so hard to include a connector for adding a second SSD or extra RAM? These components might not be as efficient as the integrated ones, but they’d make the machine more adaptable to users’ evolving needs.

Some might argue that these engineering choices make Macs more reliable, as there are fewer connectors to wear out. Simplifying connections on the logic board also makes it smaller, easier to design, and cheaper to produce.

All true. But what good is a tiny logic board in an already large iMac? Moreover, while it may be cheaper for Apple to produce, the end user sees no benefit: replacing the board can cost around €1,000, making it more economical to buy a new Mac.

What applies to the iMac applies even more to the Mac Studio and Mac Pro—professional machines with much higher costs and larger sizes. Yet, the Mac Studio cannot be upgraded after purchase, and the Mac Pro can only be upgraded to a very limited extent, using mostly proprietary Apple components.

Does this make sense? Macs are products that last for years, and people buy them not just because they look good but mainly for the excellent integration of hardware, software, and the broader Apple ecosystem. Making these machines more accessible and upgradable would also make them more adaptable, a masterstroke for Apple’s image, which lately seems a bit tarnished.