I have a particular fondness for hopeful science fiction. The sort of thing that could be called solar punk. Part of that is probably the cosiness of it. How could anyone resist the charm of Becky Chambers’s tea monks, cycling from town to town, listening with care and attention, preparing salving brews?
But I think another draw to it is the tangible picture of a different way of creating and using technology that it often shows. Things like non-algorithmic feeds to gather information and news, devices that are built to last. Technology that is created to serve and empower, not to capture and extract.
“At last, Dex sat in their chair behind the larger table. They pulled their pocket computer from their baggy travel trousers and flicked the screen awake. It was a good computer, given to them on their sixteenth birthday, a customary coming-of-age gift. It had a cream-colored frame and a pleasingly crisp screen, and Dex had only needed to repair it five times in the years that it had traveled in their clothes. A reliable device built to last a lifetime, as all computers were. Dex tapped the icon shaped like a handshake, and the computer beeped cheerily, letting them know the message had been sent. That was Dex’s cue to sit back and wait. Every person in Inkthorn who had previously told their own pocket computers they wanted to know when new wagons arrived now knew exactly that.”
— Excerpt from A Psalm for the Wild-Built (p.18), Becky Chambers
A few things this week have made this more apparent to me. I discovered that my phone, a Pixel 6 from 2021, will stop receiving security updates in a few months. I’ve had the phone for five years. While that’s an eternity by the standards of disposable, fast consumerism, the device still works great. It feels as fast and responsive as it was on day one, and it even holds a charge for a whole day of average usage. But now, because of a commercial decision, I have to replace it or risk my digital security on a device with access to all my data.
Then, while I was browsing potential new phones (looking for quality build and long-term updates that might let me keep the next one a little longer), I saw that you can buy replacement remotes for Google TV. Since my cat decided that our remote was extremely good fun to play with and subsequently broke the ‘select’ button, I briefly thought about getting the replacement, before remembering I have an iFixit toolkit. Sadly, despite YouTube videos to the contrary, it seems impossible to open up the remote without badly damaging the plastic casing. I gave up on fixing it, but I can’t bring myself to fork out for the replacement.
Lastly, I decided to get a bit more exercise into my daily routine by taking my Brompton folding bike to work. It had sat idle since my commute was upended by the pandemic, so I gave it a good clean, oiled the chain, and pumped up the tyres. I was curious about what’s new with Brompton, so I had a look on their site and discovered that many of the new accessories and parts are backwards compatible with older bikes.
I can, of course, form many arguments, for and against, as to whether I should buy a new burnt orange Brooks saddle and the Colour Lab touch point set to match, but the difference in attitude and experience between buying and using digital tech and bikes like the Brompton is huge. My current bike is not so old (bought in 2017 to replace my original M6L that was stolen), but I’ve been riding Bromptons for over 20 years, and many of the parts for sale today would still fit on my original bike. One set of products is built to be used, then thrown away. The other is built to be used, maintained, loved, updated, and used some more.
And that is what solar punk puts in mind. What if my phone was easy to repair? What if I could choose its OS and pick a long-term option like LineageOS, without losing the ability to use banking apps, authentication services, or Netflix?
What if we picked the hopeful timeline instead of aping every dystopian sci-fi novel and film ever made?
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