By Anja Höfner and Nicolas Guenot
What might a democratically designed digital technology look like that empowers people to use software and data autonomously, and in which technical devices are repairable and durable? The following text is inspired by a future workshop on digitalization that we conducted as part of the project "A Future for All – Just. Ecological. Feasible."
In 2048 there will be: durable technical equipment, open standards, decentralized workshop structures and self-managed networks, transparent and self-determined production
In 2048 there will no longer be: profit-driven data accumulation and data monopolies, software-induced obsolescence, rebound effects, human rights violations in the manufacturing process, proprietary software
I'm sitting on the train, reflecting on the past few days. This week, our team discussed the annual plan for 2049. As in most other years, this involved an intense negotiation process about how many cargo bikes we want to build and maintain, which directly linked to the question of how much we actually want to work.
The train isn't going very fast today because it's cloudy and windless. The journey to Wrocław is therefore taking longer than in sunny or windy weather, as the storage facilities aren't generating the same power as feeding it directly into the grid. We're supposed to arrive around 14:00 PM. That should be enough time for me to add myself to our collective's task list for next week. We work in a self-organized way and sign up for tasks according to our needs and current availability.
After arriving in Wrocław, where this year's networking event with cargo bike collectives from all over Europe is taking place, I should arrange for an Ansible. The Ansible is a multifunctional device that I can borrow from various locations and return to other places. It's named after a technological device from a science fiction novel by Ursula Le Guin.
We arrive shortly before 2 p.m. In front of the train station is a large square with many trees, benches, and public water fountains. Further back, I see many cyclists riding two abreast, passing each other. Wind turbines stand on the roofs of the buildings in the background. To the right of the square are numerous bicycle parking spaces on a concrete surface that was probably once a car park. Rickshaws are lined up in front of them, waiting for passengers – these are usually carrying a lot of luggage or are elderly. Other people board the trams, which glide silently along. I scan the square for a rental station, which normally offers bicycles, cargo bikes, strollers, and Ansibles for rent. I notice the many points where I can connect to the city's public network via cable: the connection points are marked on benches and at bus stops. Near the tram stop, I finally spot the rental station.
To facilitate the lending process, there's a general system for tracking where and when Ansibles are borrowed and returned. I leave the lending station and sit down on a nearby bench. Then I plug my personal data storage device into the Ansible. The data storage device is a small plug that stores my personal information. I can connect it to any Ansible and then use the device comfortably as if it were my own, since all my personal settings are transferred from the small plug. I'm about to log into our cloud to sign up for the schedule when I realize there seems to be a technical problem. Plugging in my device hasn't changed anything. It always works perfectly otherwise. Perhaps there's a compatibility issue. To avoid making things unnecessarily complicated by trying to solve the problem entirely on my own, I ask at the lending station where the nearest repair shop in the neighborhood is. It's only two streets away, and I'm there in just under five minutes.
There, together with someone from the workshop, I examine the Ansible configuration in the settings. The open standards, which are the same everywhere, make it easy for me to understand even functionally different devices. We notice that the network module is different from the usual one. Perhaps the existing one was replaced with an older spare part due to a technical defect? Or is it a different design due to a shortage of certain raw materials? Either way, our next step is to find out if the Ansible wiki, an open and publicly accessible platform where all standards, build instructions, and configuration guides are stored, already contains a compatibility standard between this specific network module in the Ansible and my personal data storage device. Unfortunately, no such entry exists. So we set about establishing compatibility ourselves.
While it's not a constant occurrence that we have to get our hands dirty, it does happen occasionally, for example, when a device breaks down at home or we want to reprogram a machine at work. Having learned this from a young age, we're quite familiar with it. Furthermore, the modularity of the devices, the simplicity of their assembly, and the open access to knowledge and instructions limit the difficulty. Thanks to these factors and the expertise of the person helping me, we manage to establish compatibility. Now I'm almost ready to sign up for the work schedule. Before that, I just have one very important thing to do: upload the compatibility standard we created to the wiki so that others can benefit from it. Fortunately, this is no longer something you can forget, and it doesn't take as long as it used to, since it's very easy using the same tool I used for the modifications. The tool even reminds me before I close it.
Finally, we got everything done, and I can see my personal data on Ansible. Now I can open the task plan for next week and see that all the tasks have already been assigned. How wonderful, I think, because that means I can stay another day in Wrocław and explore the city. Since I've already traveled so far.
Photo: Mark Bridge CC BY-NC-ND 2.0
