Residents of Lebanon have three basic options: buy a generator subscription, own your own generator, or splurge for what’s known as an uninterruptible power supply.
When you move into an apartment, you will most often connect with the local generator owner who will set up a subscription for 5 amps, 10 amps, 15 amps, or more, depending on your budget and consumption during the scheduled power outages. Residents will also do this with their water providers—one bill and service provider for filtered water, and another bill and service provider for gray water. (Water utilities are likewise a … gray area.) Internet is handled by another ad hoc collection of quasi-legal independent operators, as is trash, which the city is supposed to take care of but often fails to collect. These entities are more than private providers or secret crusaders. They are a necessary convenience to which one is connected through inconvenient terms.
Decent if slightly fetishised piece at Wired on life in Beirut under infrastructural uncertainty. This sort of set-up is likely far from being unique to Lebanon; similar conditions certainly pertain in unplanned favelas in the Global South, and will become more commonplace in the “developed” world in the not-too-distant future. This is the “unbundling” paradigm taken to its inevitable and obvious conclusion, the ugly end-game of the free-markets! flavour of decentralisation. This is the BAU future — yours, mine, and pretty much everyone else’s.
Despite the cacophony of political conjecture, the story of blockchain so far is a tale of financial speculation, in which the cash rewards reaped by bankers and venture capitalists are largely a result of the techno-utopian hype. Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose. The prospect of decentralizing control does not absolve us of the hard work of politics, and blockchain has so far failed to transfer power to ‘We, the people’, whatever the white papers might suggest. Political economy cannot be replaced by technology alone. Today, technological wealth produced by and for society largely oils the machinery of capitalist accumulation. While we have yet to witness the decentralization of control, the collective wealth produced by of the decentralization of production — that is, the ‘sharing economy’, the big data industry, and other platforms that monetize our daily social interactions — remains firmly in the service of exploitative (centralized) corporations. Whether in logistics or social media, it is not so difficult — nor even particularly radical — to imagine decentralized, peer-to-peer services which produce value by and for the commonwealth. Nonetheless, it would require governance, by nationalization or other means: the network is not identical to the commons, and nor should we hope for it to be.
A super-chewy long-read [via Jay Springett]: “Systems Seduction: The Aesthetics of Decentralisation” by Gary Zhexi Zhang, one of ten winners in the Journal of Design & Science “Resisting Reduction” essay competition.
So one is left with the thought that Malthus might just have been unlucky with his timing. It would have been hard for him to know that the small workings of coal he might have been able to observe were in fact a foretaste of the large scale mining of the 19th and 20th centuries, or that we’d stumble across more more-or-less free energy in the shape of oil in the 20th century.
[…] Malthus casts a doubt over the whole notion of progress and growth that has been our dominant discourse for the past 150 years, certainly in the countries that did well out of the Industrial Revolution. More: it has been our only permissible mainstream discourse. And if Malthus was unlucky in his timing, his argument still implies that we might, as a species, have been lucky rather than clever in stumbling across all of that easy energy. Which, in turn, casts a doubt over a large part of the story about human capacity and human development that is the story of the Enlightenment.
Andrew Curry at The Next Wave. Note that ragging on Malthus is a classic strategy of Wizards, as Malthus is arguably the pioneering Prophet.
If people don’t have the conceptual mechanisms in place to understand how narrative is created and employed to manipulate, then the better the fake, the more susceptible and increasingly large segment of the population becomes to this kind of attack. Maybe this kind of media literacy should be the domain of primary-school education not art-activism, but here we are. This is where I personally would focus. Not even deploying this as an attack strategy, in the first place simply as defence. Helping people to better understand how narrative is weaponized against them, and providing them with the critical tools to be able to spot a narrative being manipulated or manufactured against them, regardless of how deep the fake is. What is the plot? What is the motive, where are the incentives? People can’t be attacked in this way if they can see it coming.
Sjef Van Gaalen on strategies for resistance in the war of narratives. If you think we’re at some sort of peak regarding weaponised bullshit right now, you’re sorely mistaken. Get literate, quickly, and then help others learn.
The goal of the process is to put people in circumstances whereby they’re invited and enabled to think and feel into the potential and implications of a putative reality that does not (yet) exist. They do not have to buy it hook, line and sinker; the point is more commonly to invite them to test it out. So, creating those circumstances means alternating between the conceptualisation of your creation at several levels of abstraction: the logic of the scenario, and the accessibility and comprehensibility of the experience provided (part of which is furnished by the context of the encounter which you may not be able to fully control, but which you can certainly try to co-opt). Aspects of this process are captured well by a phrase of futurist Riel Miller which he uses to describe scenario production: ‘rigorous imagining’. The rigour that you need to bring to the imagining is increased when you’re trying to manifest it palpably in experience, rather than leaving it in the splendid abstractions of text or statistics, which are the most common modes of scenaric representation.
Stuart Candy on the goal of “experiential futures” work.