Hyperlink Your Heart - capitalism

Value and Values

2025-11-30T13:42:00+01:00

I’ve been a Framework enjoyer for a couple of years now. Indeed, I’m writing this on my Framework 13. I didn’t buy it because it occupied the best position in the performance/portability/price matrix of the options available to me. I bought it because it offered decent performance and portability while potentially being significantly more repairable and upgradeable than its competitors, and because they put some effort into ensuring Linux is well supported. In other words, it embodied my values in ways that other laptops did not, and I thought that was worth paying a premium for. The value proposition is in the values of the company. I’m careful to point this out when recommending it to people because I don’t want them to think they are buying a “MacBook but repairable”.

Of course I was aware that there were “risks” involved. The main one that came to mind was that they might go out of business at some point and that would likely be the end of any significant repairability advantage, as despite the clever design, it is not commodity hardware as you would find in a desktop PC. Or of course, they might just abandon the model I have eventually, or abandon their current focus altogether. Any of these could happen if their business model and the niche they occupy turns out to not be sustainable, or profitable, or they fail to grow that niche market. In such an event, it would be the same as if I had bought any other laptop. They joke all the time about doing an IPO, something which might significantly effect their ability to stick to their principles, and it comes across very “ha ha, only serious”.

One risk that hadn’t really occurred to me was that they would associate their brand with fascism in a ridiculous PR own-goal.

But, why wouldn’t I have expected something like that? If I could anticipate that they might abandon their stated values for predictable business reasons, why would I not expect that they might betray a set of values that were left unstated, ones that I merely assumed they held as a baseline of decency? Despite presenting themselves as a hacker-friendly, values-forward company doing things in new and different ways in order to tackle an intractable problem, at the end of the day they are still a VC funded Silicon Valley startup. It is a joke at this point how many such entities have abandoned their stated principles or otherwise betrayed their customers and the public in the pursuit of growth, or for political expedience, and many more whose principles were always obvious lies, or based on disingenuous right-wing distortions of values like “free speech”.

What Are Corporate Values Even?

While there are sometimes better or worse choices amongst products and services, from an ethical perspective, it is not in the nature of the companies that produce them under the capitalist system to put principles or values above the accumulation of capital.

One obvious problem with such organisations is of course that they are profit-seeking, and subject to the whims of the market. If a strategy isn’t working (i.e. is not resulting in growth), a company that doesn’t adapt will stagnate or wither away to nothing as their competitors crowd them out of the market. If a principle is an obstacle to that adaptation, then it is likely to be discarded, because holding to it would be an existential threat. This is the main source of the risks I identified above. If they manage to survive and grow to the point where they are dominating or even monopolising their industry, it is likely that any putative values will have long been abandoned. And if they are bought out by a larger company, there is no reason to expect that their values will survive the transition.

Another problem is that they are hierarchical; private tyrranies in fact. The feelings, opinions, obsessions and values of their owners, CEO and other officers, carry much more weight than anybody working within them, and certainly more than their customers. Sometimes this can work contrary to a company’s need for growth. A principled owner/CEO could potentially stick with lower-growth strategies as long as there is nobody in a position to fire them - though I wouldn’t expect such a situation to last indefinitely. An unhinged CEO on a bender could help elect a fascist who is hostile to his company’s interests, confident that his cult of personality will protect him from the consequences. Or in a somewhat less extreme scenario, the CEO might just want to help out some of his problematic fave open source developers, and not want to think about why that is a problem for some people, and there’s nothing that anybody can really do about it except make angry noises online and refuse to buy any more of the company’s products. We can’t fork a laptop manufacturer like we can an open source project, unfortunately (and forking a major open source project isn’t exactly trivial either).

These people exist in completely different milieu than the rest of us, responsible for millions or billions of ${currencyUnits} worth of undemocratically allocated capital. Our concerns about the swelling tide of racist and queerphobic rhetoric and attacks around the world are abstract to them, mere differences of opinion. They and their peers are concerned about real things, like access to cheap skilled labour, regulations that might reduce their power or increase their costs, and taxes that might shave a few million off their accumulated or potential billions. They’re more likely to see it as prudent to appease fascist movements than to oppose them, once they come to power. Violent street gangs, uniformed or otherwise, don’t really affect them. The policy whims of a mercurial leader might. And anyway, if they play their cards right they might get to be the Hugo Boss or IBM of the 21st century. Or get their own government department.

In the world of capitalist tech companies, stated principles and values are best understood as marketing: nice, cheap, non-binding promises that bring certain demographics to the trough, or make people feel good about their purchases, that they are making responsible choices or contributing to some improvement to the world. It certainly worked well enough on me, for Framework. They can hold to them, or pretend to, as long as they are useful, and abandon them when they become a burden. Their real values emerge from the inhuman machinery of the capitalist system, and the class interests of men twisted by privilege and power.

What is to be done?

The laptop market is the way it is because it is more profitable to manufacture disposable products and sell replacements for them in the future than it is to make repairable products that you may sell fewer of. Good intentions and green consumerism is unlikely to change that, as admirable as the attempt may seem.

Not to be all whatabouty, but certainly it is absurd to say that it is bad to buy a Framework, and good to buy a laptop from a company with a dismal track record on repairability, which is currently also sucking up to a fascist administration. All for-profit tech companies are somewhere on a spectrum from bad to worse, and there is no ethical consumption under capitalism.

No doubt there are many regulations that could be put in place to increase repairability of all sorts of devices and reduce other sources of e-waste. Stuff along the lines of the EU’s regulations on phone repairability, and the common charger rules that came into force for most devices in December 2024, and will apply to laptops from April 2026. We should be dictating to the industry the standards of repairability and sustainability that they have to meet, not hoping for plucky American startups to innovate a new set of norms - and we should be ruthless in our demands.

In the meantime, and always, we should take the commitments of for-profit companies with a grain of salt, and not allow their products to define us. I maintain that the tech industry will not reflect our values until we own everything, from the chip fabs to the stars, and the profit motive is a thing of the past.

The Ministry for the Future

2025-09-13T17:13:00+02:00

The first chapter of this book is one of the most brutal and visceral things I have ever read. It describes, from the perspective of the sole survivor in a particular town, a devastating climate change induced heatwave in India that kills 20 million, and in the process, I think, captures the prevailing mood amongst those who understand the urgency of the situation we face.

After that it calms down a bit, and has a quite unusual narrative structure. Some chapters are like snippets of a political manifesto, others are vignettes about unidentified characters and groups and how they are responding to the climate crisis. The main through-line concerns the head of a UN agency, the titular Ministry for the Future, the efforts of the agency, and her interactions with the sole survivor I mentioned above, who was radicalised by his experience.

It is more a book about concepts than it is about action or plot. The main concept it explores is what we could probably call Longtermism, if that name hadn’t been hijacked by transhumanist tech-bros to justify their disregard of people living today, supposedly in favour of the interests of billions of hypothetical future people, but really in their own selfish interests. In the book, the concept (though unnamed) concerns future generations whose existence is threatened by our actions today. Their interests are defended by the Ministry.

Does the threat represented by climate change to people living today, and the existence of future generations, justify violence? Does it justify geoengineering? This book says yes, and yes. The mass deaths of the heatwave spur radical action on multiple fronts, including a grassroots campaign of bombings of polluting modes of transportation like airplanes and container ships so intense that it makes them economically unviable, assassinations of polluters, black ops campaigns of violence and intimidation by the Ministry, and several massive geoengineering projects to slow sea level rise, reductions in the Earth’s albedo, and other things. While we see a lot of the geoengineering stuff up close, it is one of the books weak points that the violence mostly happens in the background, and is all a little too neat and efficient. Even as it threatens the main character’s life the players on both sides remain unidentified, and is mostly used as a pretext to justify radical, but technocratic, reforms to the financial system. I think it would have been better if we were down in the trenches a bit more, with a less abstract villain than the agents of unidentified reactionary fossil capitalists and elites.

Another problem I have with this book is that it is way too enthusiastic about the liberatory potential of blockchain technology. At least it is clear that that potential lies in it being a tool of surveillance to prevent the wealthy from hiding their money and doing whatever they want with it, rather then the sort of digital goldbuggery, private money nonsense that most proponents embrace. But, given what we have seen so far of how it is used in the real world, I have my doubts that it will ever be a tool for anything other than enabling scams, corruption, and wealth concentration.

Overall a very interesting read that is both an intimate exploration of the trauma and anxiety caused by climate change, and a detached and ultimately optimistic analysis of some of the political and technological possibilities for addressing it.

More Books

I have an account on bookwyrm.social where I post about what I’m reading and sometimes reviews if I feel I have enough to say about a book (including a version of this review), if you want to follow me there.

Big Lick

2025-06-12T15:36:00+02:00

Oh boy, it’s been a while since I posted any art! I think I was put off the whole endeavour back when NFTs were the big thing and a lot of artists I respected were showing their ass over them. I had also started a piece that was maybe a bit too complex for me, and I started to dread working on it, and to feel guilty about not working on it, and then I started thinking that art for its own sake was just a distraction from what I had actually set out to do, which was to make a videogame. I started putting a lot more time into developing my dialogue graph editor for Godot instead (since given the name “Digression”), and a tiny bit into the mechanics of the game, and just didn’t think about art for a while.

Since then of course, NFTs seem to have basically disappeared from the zeitgeist, their promises of vast riches and libertarian copyright enforcement for artists unfulfilled, and all the artists have been replaced by machines that can pull, on command, statistically likely representations of anything you can imagine out of the aggregate of all visual media on the Internet. As if it wasn’t bad enough that a huge chunk of it was already owned by giant corporations, capital is now grinding up our culture into a meaningless, commodified slurry and feeding it back to us. The pretense of having the interests of artists at heart has been replaced by a naked, shameless grasping. And with governments falling over each other to attract AI investment, it seems unlikely that there is going to be any recourse for individual creators any time soon.

So I’d like to say, then, that the reason I did this piece was that I’m an obstinate luddite who refuses to accept that the age of human creativity is over, and that I had to do my part to help preserve it. But actually I just needed to do something for my sister’s birthday, and it occurred to me that I’d never done any pixel art for her even though she is someone who would probably appreciate it. And isn’t that a fine, human motivation for getting back into art?

She did appreciate it, btw. I’m not sure she would have if I had engineered her a prompt instead.

Tools and Process

I used to use Pyxel Edit for all my art, but it is proprietary and Windows only and I couldn’t get it running in Wine since I switched to Fedora. So I have switched to Pixelorama instead, an open source pixel art paint program developed in Godot. There are a few things that Pyxel Edit did better, but Pixelorama is a very decent substitute. I like that you can put different tools on your left and right mouse buttons, though it tripped me up a lot initially. One thing I really miss is the ability to update a colour globally from the palette. It was great to be able to completely change direction with the colours without having to repaint anything. That was something I used to do quite often and at any stage of the process, sometimes even when a piece was otherwise finished. Maybe I will look into contributing to the project, since I am somewhat familiar with Godot…

When I tried adding the reference image it just automatically put it under the canvas, which I wasn’t expecting, but since it did I decided to just trace a rough outline of the figures for expediency.

Unusually for me I did a lot of anti-aliasing in this one, and I really liked how that turned out, especially on the face. More of that in the future.

Also unusually I did not pay much attention at all to how many colours I was using. There is relatively little dithering as a result, and what is there is mostly for texture rather than giving the appearance of additional colours. I usually like the challenge of keeping colour counts low, but it was nice to be more relaxed about it for a change - I ended up using 64, and it’s not as if the resulting palette is general purpose!

Timelapse

The timelapse for this one is a bit of a mess. My previous method of capturing them doesn’t work in Wayland, and I overlooked a feature in Pixelorama that would have allowed me to evaluate the canvas without having to zoom in and out constantly. I’ve since discovered that it has a recorder feature that can save a copy of the canvas after every change, so I will likely try that for my next piece and the timelapse should have a very different look…

The Ancaps

2022-09-03T18:26:00+02:00

Much has been said already about the fact that HBO’s documentary series “The Anarchists” is not really about anarchists, and by people far more capable of making the argument than I. Nonetheless, I do have some thoughts on that and other aspects of the documentary.

My overall impression of the documentary is that it is philosophically vacuous and insincere. “Anarchism” is defined superficially by the characters in what is essentially an examination of interpersonal drama. The history of Anarchism proper, and its inherent conflict with capitalism is not explored, but neither, really, is “anarcho”-capitalism or the ideas behind it, on their own terms or otherwise. The community is simply mined for drama and spectacle. The main propaganda points of the doc lie in the fact that “freedom” is just implicitly associated with laissez-faire capitalism, and the appropriation of the word “Anarchism” and anarchist symbols by the right, a long-running project.

The Inherent Contradictions of Ancapitalism

Though the documentary has little interest in examining them, the cracks and contradictions in the ideology do show through.

I think it is safe to say that everybody who enthusiastically embraces an extreme capitalist ideology thinks that they are, or will be, the boss of whatever enterprise they are involved in. Of course this produces tension when it turns out that somebody’s property rights, and a lack of any critique of property or the hierarchies it produces, makes subordinates of people who consider themselves entitled to be in charge.

The Anarchapulco conference that the documentary focuses on was not organised in a non-hierarchical manner from its conception because anarcho-capitalism does not renounce all hierarchies, only the existence of the state. Jeff Berwick, the founder and apparent “owner” of the conference behaves throughout as if organising the conference is something that an employee should be doing on his behalf, with his own role limited to giving a keynote, receiving adulation, and partying.

The first such employee we are introduced to is Nathan Freeman, who apparently had a leading role in organising the conference for several years after attending the initial one. It seems to me that Freeman thought himself and Berwick were partners in the endeavour. Berwick obviously saw things differently, and replaced Freeman in 2019 with an outsider.

Tragically, it seems like Freeman couldn’t cope with this humiliation, and essentially drank himself to death. Berwick didn’t even offer condolences to his family, because he’s an enormous piece of shit.

There are a number of aspects to the circumstances of his death that a documentary that was an honest examination of anarcho-capitalism would interrogate. He fell victim to a crypto scam shortly before becoming sick. What is the anarcho-capitalist perspective on this kind of crime? What does history tell us about private money and its effects on society? It’s glossed over as an unfortunate, unavoidable risk of “freedom”. He had no insurance, and his family had to rely on charity to pay his medical bills. What is the anarcho-capitalist perspective on the provision of healthcare? The question is not even asked.

Interestingly, John and Lily, the young couple who flee to Mexico after being arrested on drug traficking charges, do form a critique of the hierarchical, commercial nature of the Anarchapulco conference, and start their own alternative conference called Anarchaforko. It’s a bit unclear the extent to which this is organised at all rather than just people showing up and doing whatever, but it seems to work, and I would love to hear more about how this fits with their apparent objectivist leanings. But of course we get nothing like that.

Stateless in Mexico

Probably the funniest aspect of the documentary for me is that the participants seem to think that Mexico is “more anarchist” than the US, just based on the general vibes. Mexico, of course, does have a state, and I don’t have any reason to think that it is “less of” a state than that of the US.

I think this sense of “anarchiness” is probably the result of a few different factors. Many of the ancap immigrants are relatively wealthy, and apparently speak little or no Spanish. They are essentially just squatting on top of Mexican society, with no real connections to it, and using their wealth to extract what they need from it. The Mexican state protects them, as states generally protect the wealthy. They have little negative contact with it, and don’t hear about other people’s negative interactions with it as they would in the US, because they don’t speak the language. They’re just living in a little fantasy colonialist bubble.

Some members of the community are not so well off, and they do have negative experiences with the Mexican state, ranging from dealing with bureaucracy to being pursued, threatened and arrested by the police.

Although Lily Forester is a member of the latter group, it is her concluding statement on the existence of the state that best sums up the general attitude:

I just want to be left alone, like, a state can exist if it’s going to leave me alone.

On a personal level I can relate, especially given what she went through, but it’s a far cry from the moral clarity of this Fannie Lou Hamer quote:

Nobody’s free until everybody’s free.

Any meaningful conception of freedom can’t ignore that other people are subject to repression or exploitation, but that is exactly what these ancaps constantly do - the Mexican state is fine because I’m a rich foreigner and it leaves me alone, capitalist hierarchies are fine because I’m on top of them.

M’Aidez!

As I mentioned above, the primary participants in the documentary fall roughly into two groups - one comprised of relatively wealthy entrepeneurs like Berwick and the Freemans, and the other of struggling working class people like Lily Forester and John Galton, Jason Henza, and Paul Propert.

Though both groups are motivated by more-or-less the same ideology (Henza claims himself and Forester are not ancaps, but I don’t really see much distinction between anarcho-capitalism and voluntaryism or agorism myself), the differences between their circumstances is stark. The wealthy run their businesses from their lavish properties while the rest do odd jobs, deal drugs, and otherwise hustle to survive while living in marginal circumstances. As Thaddeus Russell notes:

It’s very easy to escape governments, banks and states if you’re already a Bitcoin millionaire. If you’re like John and Lily, you’ve got no resources, nothing, it’s hard, it turns out, and dangerous, in fact, to be an anarchist in Mexico.

The tension between these two groups is discussed at several points. The drug dealing and other illegal activity (like the theft of a Bitcoin ATM) are an inconvenience for the wealthy, and the unhinged Paul Propert is a potentially deadly threat to everybody, but they have no solutions. Everybody is just on their own to fend for themselves.

The documentary explores the backgrounds of Galton, Forester and Propert in some detail and finds a variety of broken homes, substance abuse problems, and other traumas. Like the characters themselves, it doesn’t seem to consider for a moment that the source of these traumas is the very social system that they cling to so tightly.

Nonetheless the clearest critique the documentary has for the anarcho-capitalist project is the lack of solidarity and support that those lacking means, and in dangerous circumstances, receive from the community, and what this would imply for an anarcho-capitalist society. Erika Harris, who ends up feeling alienated from the community and leaving Acapulco for Belize, makes this plea for mutual aid after John Galton is murdered, and Lily and Jason are on the run:

There’s an emergency among us, how will we respond? With shelter, with safehouses, with passage over borders if necessary … We need each other to get this done. I mean, we need each other just to move one inch forward.

Unfortunately, her plea seems to have fallen on deaf ears.