Without the 1st and 2nd Amendment, all of the other amendments don’t matter.
Unless otherwise noted, most work on my website and this blog is now licensed with a Peer Production, P2P Attribution-ConditionalNonCommercial-ShareAlikeLicense.
This is an intranational license that is basically a fork of the Creative Commons NC-SA. What it does is free up peer contributors to the commons, so they can use the work commercially.
P2P collectives, employee owned orgs, non-profits, etc., are fine to use the work for commercial purposes, so long as there is attibution and the license is shared alike.
If it’s a privately owned for-profit business or corporation, then commercial license is not given unless terms are agreed to.
Individuals cannot resell, but are free to share and remix non-commercially as before.
I view this as an improvement over the CC NC-BY-SA, which is too limiting in scope and leaves fellow peer producers at a disadvantage.
For a tl;dr primer of the license or the full text, please follow the link above.
Wouldn’t it be cool if unwanted Apple and MS machines figured out how to make their own distributed AI, and then outcompete their parent companies?
Extolling the virtues of a sanctioned general strike, aka the stay-at-home order
Edition 2: Community
COVID-19 pushed us inside. The retreat indoors gave us space to consider how we want to live, when outside. By this I don’t mean when to go on a daily walk, or if to wear a mask. Both important, of course. What I mean is, what kind of world do we want to live in?
Do we want a rigid hierarchy that satisfies only our R-complex need for ritual? How much longer do we concede to the tyranny of left-brain dominance? What will organization mean, and will it be nodal?
So with time on my hands, I figured the best way to explore these ideas was to get involved with my own community. There would be plenty of hours available for reading, and exploring theoretical frameworks. But actual practice was necessary.
HOAs: Organized WTFs? and thus brilliant
Our small association is self-managed by resident volunteers and an elected board. Sometimes we answer to the county or state. Mostly we’re left alone to our own affairs. The city is irrelevant here.
In many ways, it’s ideal. Secluded, but connected. Quiet, yet sociable enough. There are clear boundaries. Privacy respected, but nobody can do whatever they want to the common area.
This all works very well, until our landscaper decides to cut-back shrubs. Then all hell breaks loose. In other words, our common grounds matter. So I volunteered to be the landscape committee chair.
Somebody has to pay for this sh*t, but what if… ?
And nobody wants to pay. People do, of course, or the whole thing will break given its dependence on the legacy system. But I do wonder, if that system collapsed, could the neighborhood adapt?
If alternative systems for living were necessary here, what would the bottom-up be? Would people bother to organize? A stigmergy, of sorts? Or would the board attempt to govern, as before?
Presupposing community survival, my guess is the board would be ineffectual. Organizing would be outcompeted by disinterest, something the board contends with now. If by-laws are unenforceable, then it’s as good as a law repealed.
Building-by-building coalitions would tend to their own. It would be patchwork. Stigmergy. Fractal, and in that way, micro-localist.
Landscape would be managed differently, I suppose. But also a source of potential conflict, since it’s the glue that binds us.
I say this because that’s almost how it is now. By-laws and the power of the board to levy dues and spend is tolerated. But it’s not loved or always regarded as necessary for everything.
“Why should I pay to water their green space over there?” Well, it’s community green space. That’s why. Then again, perception and reality are fickle things.
Recency bias and the empire of your daily bread
So the question then becomes why does its governance continue in this way?
Simple explanations: State and federal law backs it. It’s a familiar order. Plus our food and money comes from elsewhere. Wage labor or fixed income, usually. There are dependencies and liabilities.
Why should anyone sympathize with a resident who dislikes the organization here… but moved here knowing the association comes with its own legal and social contract?
No sympathy, is one reaction. They can exit the community, if they want. And this is of course true. Cold, yes. But without a doubt a legal truth and not altogether immoral. It is, in most cases, a peaceful solution for the intractable.
But then an eyebrow raises.
What if because of forces beyond the territorial area, exit isn’t simple? Particularly in an interconnected world, growing in complexity. And during a time of historic transition to a new economic age. Now compounded by a pandemic, high unemployment, and civic unrest.
Beyond the scope of association by-laws to grapple with? Maybe. But not an irrational concern, if the intention is long-term community survival.
Individual lessons learned by committee
There is that word again, “committee”. In a reputational order, they are not immune from 2-star reviews. They can be everything that grates you about group indecision. When decisive, it’s sometimes oppressive.
Nonetheless, if kept in check and in proportion to the size of task and community, they can be a useful guide for elected decision makers. In other words, don’t ask a committee to work out a plan for something over-scaled. This will lead to another committee, which will lead to… yeah, you get it.
So, in the context of small associations, it can work. But it’s people, after all, and people can be strange. So it depends. Who is it? matters as much as budget does.
What I learned as landscape committee chair, and what you can take from it
1. My Way or Highway style doesn’t work.
Consensus is necessary, somehow. If it’s not there then don’t bother calling for a vote, unless required. Because if you do without understanding, regardless of outcome, there will be resentment. All voices heard. Discussion is a must.
2. Ad-hoc communication at meetings is asking for chaos.
Clear guidelines for discussion, virtual or in-person, are necessary. Boundaries must be set. Time respected.
3. Elected decision makers such as a HOA board, should be kept at arms length. But you do need them, because decisions.
You cannot block association members from a committee meeting, unless threatening or disruptive. But if any board member other than a liaison is active, the committee is no longer bottom-up. Instead it’s tool for a top-down agenda and the feedback loop is fake. Again, clear boundaries must be set.
4. Decision makers must be compatible with the bottom-up recommendations of a committee.
Not everything will be possible during your term, but decision makers must be open to the input. They must value what your committee is about. If not, it’s a pointless exercise.
If decision makers show a passive disinterest in your purpose, then reconsider involvement. Because you won’t get much done.
5. Don’t let it become a vanity project or crusade.
If there is board disinterest or disrespect and this is clear by their actions (spending), then be honest and ask yourself, what can you achieve?
If they’re imbeciles or in bad faith, no-confidence will come their way. Don’t go down with their ship.
6. Relevant information must be disclosed, especially if you’re asked for a concession.
If a board won’t won’t disclose pertinent info, it’s deceptive leadership. You must exit, in this case.
7. Mind your reputation, especially upon exit.
Unless you relocate, you’ll still be a member of the community. You’re a neighbor and possibly a friend. So be gracious to the people who deserve it, when in-group or upon exit.
But the entire neighborhood does not rest on your shoulders. Everyone is not your friend or ally. Don’t try to be Atlas. Figurative exit is a strategy. Come back, if you want to, when the tide has turned.
These are more effective checks on power in small communities, even if voter turnout is low. Knowing where the HOA board chair lives is symmetrical. Nobody can hide, when everyone is in plain sight.
What is great about an open community
Neighborhoods like mine are a challenge. Commons of any sort always are. None of it will ever be perfect. But if there is a modicum of social cohesion and buy-in, it can function well enough, providing a nice place to live.
People know or recognize each other. So even if at odds over something, they’ll look out for the neighborhood. This is its only perimeter defense, that avoids overpolicing or dangerous inter-rivalry.
The goal is for people to be part of a social graph, and also be who they want to be. Petty tyranny is limited to garden aesthetics, and even then, it’s only an opinion.
Kids can play and seniors can walk their dogs, without fear or unfounded suspicion. Neighbors share food or tools. People chat while working on their car. Pedestrians wave. Drivers slow down… most of them, anyway. Wildlife feels comfortable being around, too, and provide a soothing daily bird song.
People keep to a safe distance and wear a mask during a pandemic, but remain sociable.
In other words, it’s an imperfect but livable place for the living.
Being an active part of said community governance comes with responsibility and above all else, to do no harm.
What does this have to do with photography?
Unless you’re tired of losing money being a lone wolf, in a long tail scheme… or sick of playing a zero sum popularity game, that few people randomly “win”… or frustrated with an obsolete business model, as if people want or need your supply-push.
In a networked age of digital and localist commons, rethink photography systems and practice. Your community can be a guide of how or how-not to go about this.
Extolling the virtues of a sanctioned general strike, AKA the stay-at-home order
Edition 1: The Garden
“I don’t understand why she would tear up a beautiful lawn and plant vegetables! Why do that if a [insert corporate grocery chain here] is down the street?”
“That’s exactly why she did it.”
Politicians are engineering The Reopening®, as if people are programmable consumers. But what if during the shut-in, people learned how to make their homes more productive?
This is what we’ve done with our time off. I suppose many others have done the same.
One thing I haven’t spent much time on is photography.
While the spring blooms peaked, I did a walkabout. But that’s about it, because that’s all there was for the most part. And that’s okay. I’m good if someone else looks for empty streets or protests.
Many images on my website are now available for free download, without watermark. So I did that. My views on this have changed over the years. People who don’t share are lonely and bitter, to echo the sentiments of Paulo Coelho.
Photographers, there is more to life than your camera and imagery. Time off is good. So is learning other skills be it to enhance formal and informal local trade, or personal use.
And you’ll need horizontal mobility, because cost pressures won’t be abating for most creatives… or anyone. Indeed, dependency is high risk and “jobs” are soon to be anachronistic for many.
So what does an image maker do in Sociable Dystancopia?
If you’re like me and have the space, then you garden. In fact, you can garden and harvest quite a bit in small spaces or indoors. We see it as part of our long-term health care and retire at the bottom plan.
We’ve sowed into hacked together beds or containers broccoli, tomatoes, brussel sprouts, Swiss chard, kale, and garlic. All in a 10′ space. It’s actually sub-optimal yield. More could be grown. But so far, so good. We’ll eat well and reduce our dependence on the supply chain a bit.
Next year we’ll take it up a notch. We have plans to overwinter plants. Also, a no dig garden project, to rehabilitate our soil into a permaculture. We live in the suburbs, yo. What’s your excuse?
Natural living systems can be a great teacher, too. I suspect that understanding complexity will be a key to success, as this century goes on. Not that it will be a guarantee for wealth or fame, but adaptation will smooth over what’s fragile. And if your best skill is Photoshop, then you’re not antifragile.
Why you want insects to nibble at your kale
You’ll learn from a garden that nature does most of the work. It’s good to let go, to see where the light shines. Don’t try so hard. Loosen your grip.
I’ll give you one example. Place garlic under a rose bush.
It turns out aphids like garlic, but they love roses. So the rose bush sucks them away from your future food. On first thought, you’d think that wouldn’t work. But upon intuitive reflection, it makes natural sense.
There is a bonus, too. Similar to how nature provides a new tapestry for your camera everyday, garlic is reproducible without having to buy another one.
In other words, placement and patience matters. Sort of like knowing where to stand, when shooting a landscape picture. Nature points the way.
Speaking of aphids, we love the insects here and so should you, because if they’re not snacking on your food, then why would you?
So don’t mind the small nibblers of your creative work. You know, the random bots human or digital who grab your pictures. They place them around a stigmergy of fractal geometry, indirectly building free and open culture.
After all, if the bots don’t want to pick from your digital harvest now and again, then why should anyone?