Puerto Rico’s Fight for Energy Independence

Amid worsening blackouts and fossil fuel contracts that deepen colonial dependency, Puerto Ricans are building energy sovereignty from the ground up—one rooftop solar panel at a time.
Casa Pueblo director Arturo Massol-Deyá and founder Alexis Massol-González stand beneath the “solar forest” that provides energy to Casa Pueblo’s buildings, Solar Plaza, and neighbors in the Puerto Rican town of Adjuntas. April 2025. (Jesse Ilan Kornbluth)

This piece appeared in the Fall 2025 issue of NACLA’s quarterly print magazine, the NACLA ReportSubscribe in print today!


New Year’s Eve, 2025. I wake up under a blanket of humidity and the sound of my dog panting heavily. The sun rises in a cloudless sky over the Atlantic with Vieques in the distance. The ceiling fan I had switched on to full blast spins slowly from the breeze coming in through the window. Then the texts start pouring in from friends across the island: “Power’s out in Aguadilla.” “Ponce is powerless too.” Utuado, Jayuya, Culebra, Vieques—all dark.

Another “Apagón.” All of Puerto Rico is without power.

Over the 45 years my family has been in this apartment, our memories have been punctuated by countless hurricanes and power outages. In Puerto Rico, blackouts are a part of life.

Energy security is an expected challenge in Puerto Rico, as a Caribbean archipelago with a history of unpredictable weather and destructive storms. But on this bright, cloudless New Year’s Eve day, with some 3.2 million people left powerless yet again, the sudden collapse of the grid revealed something deeper: the complete failure of a colonial energy system. As a photojournalist, I viewed the blackout as a chance to shine a light on a broader story that is seldom shared beyond the archipelago.

Reporting for the New York Times, I set out to document the human toll of the blackout. I travelled from the foothills of El Yunque to the streets of San Juan, where the droning hum of diesel generators drowned out the call of the native coquis.

The blackout, like many before it, illustrates why energy independence for Puerto Rico is vital.

Most of the archipelago was left powerless until well into New Year’s Day. In several rural areas, it took days to restore electricity. It would later be revealed that the blackout was likely caused by an outdated underground power line—a glaring reminder of Puerto Rico’s crumbling energy infrastructure and understaffed, neglected workforce.

The blackout, like many before it, illustrates why energy independence for Puerto Rico is vital. And it is clear that the future must be built through decentralized, community-based solutions—like rooftop solar—rather than reinvesting in carbon-based infrastructure or false “green solutions” like industrial solar or wind farms. Small-scale, site-specific solutions would not only enhance resilience but shift power—literally and politically—into the hands of Puerto Ricans.

The town of Adjuntas in Puerto Rico’s central mountains is the archipelago’s first “Pueblo Solar.” (Jesse Ilan Kornbluth)

Energy Insecurity in Puerto Rico: How Did We Get Here?

Puerto Rico’s energy crisis stems from more than storms. At its core lie decades of divestment, political subordination, and economic dependence. A crumbling electrical grid, devastating natural disasters, mounting public debt, neocolonial policies from Washington, and local corruption have all exacerbated the crisis, hindering any meaningful progress towards energy sovereignty, despite Puerto Rico’s stated goal of reaching 100 percent renewable energy by 2050.

Fully comprehending the archipelago’s chronic energy challenges—and potential solutions—requires reckoning with Puerto Rico’s status as an unincorporated U.S. territory—i.e., a colony. Puerto Ricans are U.S. citizens, yet they occupy a liminal space within U.S. society: “American” enough to pay federal taxes and remain under Washington’s control, but not enough to enjoy the same freedoms and self-determination as residents of the continental United States. Puerto Ricans lack the right to vote in U.S. general elections and have only superficial representation in Congress, remaining bound by century-old neocolonial laws. Because of these factors, Puerto Rico has little autonomy to shape its own political future.

Hurricane Maria exposed the urgency of overhauling its aging electrical grid, yet little progress has been made. Instead of expanding renewable energy, the local government reaffirmed its reliance on fossil fuels by contracting LUMA Energy, a private consortium backed by Quanta Services (USA) and ATCO (Canada), to manage power distribution. In recent months, two major outages, on New Year’s Eve and during Easter week, have plunged the island into complete darkness—not due to powerful storms but grid failures. These are man-made disasters rooted in public policy and severely outdated infrastructure.

This situation underscores the urgent need for action: modernizing the existing grid, increasing the integration of renewables, and promoting low-tech, standalone solutions such as rooftop solar to enhance energy resilience and accessibility. Federal funds and grants must catalyze the transition to renewables, rather than reinvesting in Puerto Rico’s crumbling and fossil fuel-dependent grid—reliant in full on imported fuel that caters to profit interests in the United States.

A transition to renewables represents a major opportunity for economic advancement across Puerto Rico, but massive debt held by Puerto Rico’s government and energy sector continues to halt progress.

The Fonroche Humacao Solar Farm on Puerto Rico’s eastern coast is one of several massive solar farms that have been developed in recent years. April 20, 2025. (Jesse Ilan Kornbluth)

Crippling Debt and Corrupt Contracts

In 2016, Puerto Rico was faced with severe financial distress, rapidly spiraling toward default on its historic debt. In response, the U.S. federal government enacted PROMESA, the Puerto Rico Oversight, Management, and Economic Stability Act. Through PROMESA, Puerto Rico’s debt came under the control of the Financial Oversight and Management Board (FOMB), colloquially known in Puerto Rico as “La Junta.” Its seven-member board—composed largely of U.S.-based business figures and former foreign government officials—was handed broad policymaking power and the job of restructuring the territory’s debt and guiding infrastructure investment. The structure of the FOMB underscores the neo-colonial dynamics between Washington and San Juan, and Puerto Rico’s limited capacity to determine its own economic future.

Instead of revitalizing the archipelago, the board has enacted sweeping austerity measures, leading to significant cuts in healthcare, education, and pensions to prioritize debt repayment. Meanwhile, consumer energy costs continue to rise by the year. Since the FOMB’s inception, widespread protests across Puerto Rico and the diaspora have condemned the board’s policies, especially its role in exacerbating the energy crisis through controversial public-private partnerships.

After Hurricane Maria destroyed much of the archipelago’s energy infrastructure in 2017, the state-owned Puerto Rico Electric Power Authority (PREPA) sank deeper into debt, forcing it to declare bankruptcy. In response, then-Governor Pedro Pierlusi privatized large portions of the energy sector. PREPA retained control over energy generation, while private firms were invited to bid for contracts to handle transmission and distribution.

Rooftop solar could boost energy security, lower consumer costs, reduce greenhouse gas emissions, and redirect funds to other critical social sectors—opening a pathway to energy sovereignty.

In 2020, LUMA Energy secured the transmission and distribution contract in a bidding process that was extremely opaque and widely criticized. When LUMA began operating in Puerto Rico in June 2021, it assumed responsibility over modernizing the grid and incorporating a greater share of renewables into the energy mix. LUMA’s early years in operation were plagued by inaction and public frustration, while PREPA failed to generate sufficient power for Puerto Rico or repay its ballooning debts.

By 2023, PREPA opened a bidding process to offload its generation responsibilities. Genera PR LLC—a newly established subsidiary of New York-based New Fortress Energy (NFE)—won the contract to operate and maintain Puerto Rico’s legacy power plants. Again, the process was shrouded in controversy.

Rather than building toward a greener future, PREPA continues to double down on fossil fuels—supplied by U.S. corporations—while slowly rolling out renewable programs or blocking their progress altogether. Puerto Rico’s massive potential for renewable energy continues to take a back seat to outside business interests, debt repayments, and fossil fuels.

In June 2025, New Fortress Energy and the Puerto Rico Energy Bureau inked a new 15-year deal to supply five major power plants with liquefied natural gas (LNG). News of the agreement sent NFE share prices soaring, with a 72 percent bump on NASDAQ in one week—signaling that Puerto Rico’s energy policy is a profitable venture for Wall Street. San Juan’s decision to contract an LNG firm to run the vast majority of Puerto Rico’s power generation—on infrastructure beyond repair—has raised many concerns. At the very least, it undercuts Puerto Rico’s 2050 renewable energy goals, and more cynically, suggests corrupt and negligent dealmaking in plain sight.

These developments represent a dereliction of duty to the Puerto Rican public. By all measurable metrics, Puerto Rico’s energy authorities have failed systematically to promote energy security, modernize the grid, and adopt clean alternative energy sources.

Given this context, many Puerto Ricans have taken it upon themselves to ensure their own energy security through solar power, without subsidy or assistance.

 An aerial view of the Fonroche Humacao Solar Farm. April 20, 2025.(Jesse Ilan Kornbluth)

The Clear Case for Solar

When Hurricane Maria hit Puerto Rico in September 2017, roughly 8,000 homes had rooftop solar systems across the archipelago. By June 2024, that number had grown to over 117,000—nearly 10 percent of all households—increasing by about 3,000 installations each month.

With an average of 300 days of sun annually, Puerto Rico has immense solar potential. Rooftop solar could boost energy security, lower consumer costs, reduce greenhouse gas emissions, and redirect funds to other critical social sectors—opening a pathway to energy sovereignty. Yet despite this promise, authorities have repeatedly blocked solar initiatives and progressive social programs like net metering, holding the majority of Puerto Ricans captive to PREPA’s unstable, fossil-fuel based grid. Those most affected by outages—low-income and hard-to-reach rural communities—are also those least able to access solar energy. Meanwhile, taxpayers shoulder the burden of PREPA’s debt and mismanagement.

As Alexis Massol-González, co-founder of the Adjuntas-based social and climate justice organization Casa Pueblo, explains: “The Puerto Rican energy authorities deliberately block progress on renewables… They privatize power generation and want to gasify Puerto Rico. They are holding Puerto Rico hostage to their energy setup.”

In the absence of reliable grid power, many families and small businesses across Puerto Rico rely on basic diesel generators and costly fuel, a scarce resource during outages. In Humacao, David Pacheco and Vivian Ortiz run two of the few businesses in the community that had access to an industrial generator during Maria. In the first 10 days after the storm, this enabled them to serve over 15,000 meals to the local community. After months in the dark, David traveled by boat to the Dominican Republic to purchase a second generator. During the recent protracted blackouts, David and Vivian’s generator-powered businesses once again served as a lifeline for the community—though each generator consumed over 40 gallons of diesel daily, at a cost of $180-$200 per unit.

Rooftop solar would mitigate these logistical and cost challenges, but the start-up costs to install these systems—specifically the batteries that store power from the panels—are often out of reach for middle and lower-income families. Prior to the Trump administration’s return to the Oval Office, some $20 billion had been earmarked for climate and renewable energy programs across the United States, $147 million of which had been allocated to 38 credit unions in Puerto Rico to help families and small businesses finance rooftop solar with attached battery units. These promises have since been cast into uncertainty with the freezing of federal funds.

In addition to a Plaza de la Independencia Energética that provides solar-powered energy to the public free of charge, Casa Pueblo also runs a solar-powered cinema, radio station, café, and innovation lab. 

Above left: Casa Pueblo founder Alexis Massol-González

Above right: Doña Dolly, a former student activist turned grandmother, who was part of a rooftop solar pilot program on the island of Culebra. 
(Jesse Ilan Kornbluth)

Meanwhile, many affluent residents—particularly beneficiaries of Act 60 (a consolidation of Acts 20 and 22)—face no such barriers. Under Act 60, émigrés who spend at least 183 days in Puerto Rico per year enjoy a zero percent tax rate on dividends and capital gains, including those from digital assets, and a 75 percent exemption on property taxes. These transplants often live in homes outfitted with solar panels and battery banks. Tesla is a popular supplier of these batteries.

Supporters claim the law has attracted new investment to the island. But the vast majority of Puerto Ricans are critical of its impact on the housing market and the rapid gentrification it has driven. In practice, Act 60 has boosted Puerto Rico’s status as a tax haven for wealthy investors from abroad, and has done little to benefit Puerto Ricans. For many, Puerto Rico’s solar policies represent a textbook case of green capitalism: market-driven climate solutions that serve the interests of a privileged few, while ignoring the needs of the public.

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Jesse Ilan Kornbluth is a documentary photographer and writer based between New York City and Puerto Rico. His work focuses on the intersection of social issues, culture, and public policy. His photography and writing has been published by The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Guardian, The Brookings Institution, and more. He is an alum of the International Center of Photography.