You probably own dozens of computers without realizing it. They're hiding in your coffee maker, your doorbell, your car dashboard. Until recently, building your own computer-controlled gadget meant either spending thousands of dollars or earning an engineering degree. Then something changed: a group of Italian designers started meeting in a bar named after a medieval king, and the technology world would never be quite the same.

How a Bar in Italy Changed Everything

In 2005, students at the Interaction Design Institute in Ivrea, Italy, faced a problem. They wanted to learn about electronics and programming, but the standard tools cost around $100 per board. For a classroom of students, that added up fast. The institute's founders—who met regularly at a local bar called Bar di Re Arduino—decided to build something cheaper.

They took an existing student project called Wiring and adapted it to work with inexpensive Atmel microcontroller chips. The result was Arduino, named after that very bar (which itself honored Arduin of Ivrea, an 11th-century Italian king). The first Arduino boards cost a fraction of existing alternatives and came with something revolutionary: complete design files that anyone could use, modify, or build upon.

By 2021, more than 10 million Arduino Uno boards had been sold. But the real number is much higher—because the designs were open, countless manufacturers created their own compatible versions. A single product line had become a global platform.

The Raspberry Pi Revolution

Around the same time Arduino was taking off, computer scientist Eben Upton noticed something troubling at Cambridge University. Fewer students were applying to computer science programs, and those who did lacked the hands-on tinkering experience that previous generations had gained from early home computers.

The problem was simple: computers had become too polished, too locked-down. In the 1980s, a kid could write code on a Commodore 64 within minutes of turning it on. By the 2000s, computers were expensive, complex machines that discouraged experimentation. Break something, and you might lose your family's only computer.

Upton and his colleagues conceived the Raspberry Pi in 2006: a complete computer on a single board, cheap enough that breaking it wouldn't be a disaster. When the Raspberry Pi Model B finally launched in 2012, it cost just $35. The foundation hoped to sell maybe a thousand units.

They sold 37 million by 2020.

What Makes Hardware "Open Source"

The term "open source" came from software, where it means releasing code publicly so anyone can study, modify, and redistribute it. But hardware presents unique challenges. You can't copy-paste a circuit board the way you can copy a file.

The Open Source Hardware Association, formed to guide this emerging movement, adapted software principles for physical objects. Their definition requires that design files be released in formats suitable for modification. This means schematics, board layouts, and parts lists—everything needed to actually make the device.

The definition includes 12 core principles covering documentation standards, derived works, free redistribution, and technology neutrality. Over 3,215 projects have received official Open Source Hardware certification, providing a standardized way to identify genuinely open designs.

But open hardware goes beyond legal definitions. It's about using standard, readily-available components rather than proprietary parts. It's about documentation detailed enough that someone halfway around the world can understand and improve your design. It's about building communities, not just products.

Breaking Down the Cost Barriers

The financial impact of open hardware is staggering. Arduino boards cost around $20 to $30, compared to the $100 BASIC Stamp they were designed to replace. Raspberry Pi computers start at $35, compared to hundreds for traditional PCs. These aren't minor savings—they're order-of-magnitude differences.

For researchers in countries with limited science funding, this accessibility transforms what's possible. A laboratory in Kenya or Brazil can now afford the same tools as one at MIT or Oxford. The Arduino Uno packs 14 input/output pins, 6 analog inputs, and USB connectivity into a board measuring less than 3 by 2 inches. The Raspberry Pi 2 Model B includes a quad-core processor, 40 GPIO pins, and full HDMI output in a similarly compact package.

But cost reduction is only part of the story. Open hardware reduces dependence on import logistics. Instead of waiting months for specialized equipment to clear customs, researchers can source standard components locally or even fabricate boards themselves. Knowledge transfers directly through documentation rather than through expensive training programs or vendor relationships.

The Research Revolution

Academic publishing data reveals open hardware's explosive growth. As of November 2022, Web of Science indexed over 19,000 publications on open hardware, with 47% published since 2018. Arduino appeared in more than 10,000 papers (58% since 2018), while Raspberry Pi showed up in over 6,000 (70% since 2018).

These aren't just papers about the platforms themselves. Researchers use open hardware to build custom laboratory equipment, environmental sensors, medical devices, and scientific instruments. A biologist might use Arduino to control a custom microscope stage. A climate scientist might deploy Raspberry Pi-based weather stations across remote regions. An epidemiologist might build low-cost diagnostic tools for field use.

The Alfred P. Sloan Foundation recognized this potential by funding OSHWA's Open Hardware Creators in Academia Fellowship, a two-year program fostering collaboration among academic hardware developers. In January 2026, OSHWA expanded further with a new Open Healthware Certification, specifically addressing medical and health technology applications.

The Maker Movement Connection

Open-source hardware didn't just enable research—it sparked a cultural movement. FabLabs and MakerSpaces began appearing in cities worldwide, offering communal access to 3D printers, laser cutters, CNC mills, and circuit board fabrication tools. These spaces embody the democratization of manufacturing.

Arduino's design philosophy accelerated this trend. Unlike previous microcontroller boards with limited prototyping areas, Arduino introduced "shields"—expansion boards that stack on top of the main board. Want to add WiFi? Plug in a WiFi shield. Need motor control? There's a shield for that. This modularity made complex projects accessible to beginners.

The platform was also designed to work across all operating systems—Windows, Mac, and Linux—removing another barrier to entry. The Arduino IDE simplified C++ programming into something approachable for newcomers, while still offering power for advanced users.

Both platforms benefit from massive online communities. Thousands of software libraries extend functionality. Millions of tutorials walk through projects ranging from blinking LEDs to building robots. When you get stuck, forums full of experienced makers stand ready to help.

The Challenges of Openness

Open-source hardware isn't without complications. In 2014, a driver update for USB-to-serial chips disabled counterfeit devices, affecting many cheap Arduino clones. This highlighted tensions between supporting innovation through openness and protecting quality standards.

The "clone" question divides the community. Some see unauthorized copies as theft that undermines original creators. Others argue that clones fulfill open hardware's promise by making technology even more accessible. Official Arduino boards fund continued development, but a student in a developing country might only afford a $3 clone.

Documentation quality varies wildly. Some projects release minimal information that technically satisfies open-source definitions but practically prevents replication. Others provide exhaustive documentation that enables true collaboration. The best open hardware projects treat documentation as seriously as design.

Patent concerns also linger. Hardware often involves mechanical designs, materials science, and manufacturing processes that software doesn't encounter. A truly open hardware ecosystem requires navigating patent law in ways the open-source software movement never faced.

The Future of Accessible Technology

The impact of open-source hardware extends beyond electronics hobbyists and academic researchers. It's changing how we think about technology ownership and control. When you can understand, modify, and repair your devices, you're not just a consumer—you're a participant.

This matters for sustainability. Proprietary devices often can't be repaired because manufacturers don't release schematics or make replacement parts available. Open hardware designs enable repair and adaptation, extending product lifespans.

It matters for education. Students learn better by doing, and open hardware makes doing affordable. A classroom can equip every student with their own microcontroller for the cost of a few traditional textbooks.

It matters for innovation. The next breakthrough might come from someone who can't afford traditional tools. Open hardware ensures that good ideas aren't limited by access to capital.

The platforms that started in an Italian bar and a Cambridge office have proven that openness doesn't just make technology more accessible—it makes technology better. When thousands of people can examine, improve, and build upon designs, innovation accelerates. When standard components replace proprietary parts, solutions become more robust and adaptable.

Looking Ahead

As we move through 2026, open-source hardware continues evolving. The new Open Healthware Certification signals expansion into medical devices, where accessibility could literally save lives. Low-cost diagnostic tools, prosthetics, and monitoring devices built on open platforms could transform healthcare in underserved regions.

The principles established by Arduino and Raspberry Pi now extend to increasingly sophisticated technologies. Open-source drones, robots, scientific instruments, and even satellites demonstrate that openness scales from simple LED blinkers to complex systems.

But the most important impact might be cultural. A generation is growing up believing that technology should be understandable, modifiable, and shareable. They expect to see inside their devices, to fix what breaks, to improve what works. They view technology as something to create with, not just consume.

That bar in Ivrea is still there, still serving drinks. But the name Arduino now means something far bigger than a meeting place for Italian designers. It represents a fundamental shift in how we relate to technology—from passive users to active creators, from isolated consumers to collaborative communities. And that shift is only beginning.