
Puerto Ricans are no strangers to power outages, from Hurricane Maria’s blackout in 2017 to the constant outages under LUMA Energy’s management. But the lights are about to go out across the whole territory, and this time the outage is not just electrical, but political, economic, and is rooted in power in every sense of the word.
On July 22 of this year, Puerto Rico’s consumer affairs department filed a lawsuit against LUMA, citing the company’s “negligence” and “inefficiency and lack of adequate service” that have destroyed necessary appliances that Puerto Ricans require on a day-to-day basis. While a bold one, this move is too little too late. Ever since LUMA took over the island’s power transmission and distribution in 2020, outages have become routine, bills have remained excessively high, and corporate accountability is still nowhere to be found.
This lawsuit is unfolding in the eye of another political hurricane. The Trump administration has suddenly removed six members of the Financial Oversight and Management Board for Puerto Rico—four of them Democrats—from a body that holds extraordinary power over the island’s finances. This not only opens the door for more aggressive pro-bondholder voices but also closes the door for stronger political autonomy for Puerto Ricans. Puerto Ricans did not vote for these board members, yet they hold the keys to their economic futures. Now, they’re being swapped out like chess pieces in a game where Donald Trump gets to make up the rules as he goes.
Here’s the dirty truth: long before LUMA, PREPA’s (Puerto Rico Electric Power Authority) mismanagement and $9 billion debt had already left the power grid on life support.
“Our commitment is to continue working for the benefit of our customers, despite the significant challenges we face in operating a fragile and deteriorating electrical system, which for years has lacked the necessary maintenance and investment,” LUMA representatives said in a statement.
Years later, that debt still hangs over Puerto Rico. Creditors want full repayment, even if it means higher rates for an island where forty percent of the population lives in poverty. The same people suffering in the dark are now asked to foot the bill for a system that consistently fails them.
Hovering above all of these empty promises is PROMESA, the 2016 federal law that created the control board in the first place. Although it was sold to Puerto Rico as a means to restructure their crippling debt, in practice, Promesa has handed budgetary powers to an unelected board whose primary obligation is to ensure debt repayment. The board has thus become a weapon that creditors can wield in this endless war over power, rather than a shield for the citizens who face the brunt of the mandate. While bondholders have a seat at the table, Puerto Ricans are lucky if they get to watch through the window.
Both of these crises stem from the same underlying problem: Puerto Rico is still being treated as a playground for corporate contracts and political experiments, with everyday Puerto Ricans facing the consequences. Power lines are collapsing, bills are climbing, and Puerto Rico’s political future is being swept under the rug that lines the floors of Washington. In 2024 alone, residents experienced an average of 19 service interruptions per year, with 14 unrelated to storms and 5 resulting from them. Puerto Rico is treated as a colony when convenient, a profit center when profitable, and an afterthought when neither.
Debt cannot remain the alibi for cutting basic services. Any debt-restructuring plan must protect ratepayers and essential services—not prioritize bondholders above human needs. The federal control board must be reformed so that Puerto Ricans have a decisive voice in fiscal decisions that affect their lives. PROMESA-era governance that sidelines voters cannot be the long-term solution.
This issue is not just about lightbulbs. It’s about who holds power in Puerto Rico. Puerto Ricans can either accept a future where service providers and distant creditors decide where refrigerators stay cold, whether hospitals run, and when families can afford to keep the lights on. Or better yet, Puerto Ricans can demand what they have waited years for: transparency, restitution, real democratic control, and an energy system that is truly committed to serving the people, not profit margins. The citizens who face the brunt of these empty promises should not let the lawsuit be the opening move, and certainly not the final act.
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