There is a moment everyone knows who has ever tried to keep using an older smartphone.
The device works. The screen is intact, the battery holds, the hardware would be entirely sufficient for what you need — messages, a map, a call. But the operating system is no longer supported. Apps stop functioning. A banking app refuses service. A messenger shows a warning nobody reads, and then stops working. And suddenly a fully functional piece of technology sits in a drawer — not because it is broken, but because it was obsoleted.
That is no accident. That is architecture.
Software was never enough
We talk a lot about free software. About Linux, about PostgreSQL, about Apache — and rightly so. Without free software we would have no foundation. But we talk too rarely about what the software runs on. About the device itself. About the chip, the firmware, the bootloader, the baseband processor firmware, the drivers, the embedded controller software that nobody sees and nobody controls.
The truth is: even if every bit of software on your device were free — if the bootloader is locked, if the firmware on the Wi-Fi chip stays proprietary, if the baseband processor runs its own operating system you have no access to — then you do not control the device. You control one layer. Beneath it lies another, which may belong to you or not, and which can decide what your device does and what it does not.
Hardware is not a neutral carrier. It is part of the architecture of control.
When architecture works against the user
Hardware today is not designed to serve the user. It is designed to make money. That is not an accusation — it is the description of a business model. And to make money, architectural decisions must be made that inevitably contradict the interests of the user.
Planned obsolescence. Devices are constructed to become unusable after a certain time — not through material wear, but through software withdrawal. A phone that no longer receives updates does not die of frail hardware. It dies of a decision made somewhere in a meeting.
Non-repairable construction. Batteries that are glued in. Cases that cannot be opened without special tools. Components that are soldered although they could be socketed. Screws with non-standard profiles. All legal, all within what the market permits — but all decisions against the user.
Proprietary firmware and locked bootloaders. Whoever may not boot unsigned software does not own their device. They have only rented it — without contract, without end, without control. The manufacturer retains the key to the house you bought.
Hardware-level telemetry. Intel Management Engine. AMD PSP. Baseband processors that communicate independently of the main system. Chips that can send data without the operating system noticing. Functionalities that cannot be disabled — because they are not meant for the user.
For someone to whom sovereignty matters — who cares about knowing what happens in their life and who has a say in it — this is not a side issue. It is the core.
The pain of those who look closely
People with a pronounced awareness of freedom and self-determination suffer under this architecture in a way others often do not understand.
They buy a device and discover they cannot fully control it. They want to install a different operating system — and cannot. They want to swap a defective battery — and cannot. They want to know what data the device sends — and cannot. They want to understand how the firmware works — and are not allowed to.
That is not paranoia. It is the experience of being an owner and still being treated like a guest in your own house.
And society says: Just buy a new one. Upgrade. Accept it. Everyone does it. But that is exactly where the important question begins: Do you have to? Are you allowed to? Should you?
Buying is a decision. Not buying is too.
Here it gets personal. And uncomfortable.
Sometimes you should buy nothing. Even if it would be fun. Even if it would accelerate your workflow. Even if everyone else has it. Even if it is a good deal.
Every purchase is a vote. Every credit card charge is consent — to a product, to a manufacturer, to an architecture, to a business model. Whoever buys a device that cannot be repaired consents to non-repairability. Whoever buys a device that locks the bootloader consents to the lock. Whoever buys, votes. And whoever votes shapes the market.
This applies especially to the quick, convenient, tempting purchase. The new tablet that speeds up the workflow. The sleek laptop model that is not expandable. The smart-home gadget that is cheap but cloud-dependent. In every single case the question: Do I need this? And if so: is there a variant that leaves me in control?
The honest answer is often: yes, there is. It is more expensive, rarer, less convenient. But it exists. And it exists only as long as enough people choose it.
The illusion of powerlessness
Many people feel they cannot influence anything. The corporations are too big. Politics too slow. The market too powerful. What can I possibly achieve?
That is inherently wrong. And dangerously wrong.
The choice of what to buy and what not to buy is one of the strongest measures an individual has. Stronger than any ballot box, because it acts immediately, directly, and repeatedly. Every time someone buys a device that is open, repairable, documented — they signal to the market that demand exists. Every time someone does not buy, they signal that there is a boundary.
A single vote changes nothing. Ten thousand change something. A million change everything. And every movement begins with individuals deciding — and deciding visibly, so others see: it can be done differently.
The tinkerer community
Here a group enters the picture that is often overlooked: the tinkerer community.
The people who revive old ThinkPads. Who port Coreboot. Who write repair manuals. Who build Framework laptops. Who bring PostmarketOS to decommissioned phones. Who design open-source hardware — RISC-V, Librem, System76, Pine64, Fairphone. Who explain in forums how to replace a proprietary driver. Who donate parts, share knowledge, have patience.
This community is not romantic. It is essential. It is the counter-model to throwaway culture. It proves daily that hardware can live longer than its manufacturer intended — if someone is willing to care.
We should collectively learn to do things ourselves. Or at least to understand them. Swap a battery. Open a case. Install a hard drive. Install an operating system. Host a service yourself. Not everyone must compile Coreboot — but everyone should be able to open the door of their own device without fear.
Being able to do yourself what others do for you — that is sovereignty in its purest form. And it starts small.
The collective choice
In the end it is a collective decision. Not one taken at the top — one taken at the bottom, every day, by each individual.
If we continue to buy closed, non-repairable, cloud-dependent hardware, we produce the market we then complain about. If we begin to choose differently — open, documented, long-lived, repairable — we produce a different one. Slowly. But surely.
This is no utopia. It is already reality. Framework proves modular laptops are sellable. Fairphone proves ethical smartphones have a market. PostmarketOS proves old devices can live on. RISC-V proves open chip architectures work. All of it exists only because people decided: this time I buy differently.
What this has to do with libcom.de
Here it gets concrete.
libcom.de is an IT services provider committed to free software and sovereignty. We consult, plan and implement infrastructure — not for convenience, but sustainably. And our convictions around hardware belong not only on the software side.
We help you identify the right hardware — used or new, x86 or ARM, server or workstation — matched to what you genuinely need and what respects your sovereignty. We plan setups that are long-lived, that can be repaired and extended, that do not depend on a single vendor. We show which devices combine well with free firmware, which notebooks support Coreboot, which servers can be administered with open tools. And we are honest when a purchase is unnecessary — even if that means we sell less.
If you wonder which device makes sense, which hardware combines with Linux and free firmware, how to make an existing infrastructure more durable — write to us at contact@libcom.de. We give an honest assessment. Without sales pressure. With a view to what lasts long-term.
Hardware is not fate. It is a decision. And the decision starts with you — today, with the next purchase, or the deliberate non-purchase.
Free software was the first step. Free hardware is the next. And it is long overdue.