Hello world. I’m Tomasino.
This is Solarpunk Prompts, a series for writers where we discuss Solarpunk, a movement that imagines a world where technology is used for the good of the planet.
In this series we spend each episode exploring a single Solarpunk story prompt adding some commentary, some inspirations, and some considerations.
Most importantly, we consider how that story might help us to better envision a sustainable civilization.
If this is your first time here, I’d recommend checking out our introduction episode first, where we talk about what Solarpunk is, why you should care, and why this series came into being.
Today’s prompt is: “The Archivists”
A community of archivists, cartographers, or Wikipedians is fighting to save as much unwritten lore and knowledge as they can, before the old generation passes away. They’re not hired by any organization or university, but connected by their love for the folk tales and belief that the natural medicine might be worth researching today.
Today’s prompt is concerned with the loss of local and indigenous knowledge, a form of cultural memory. When most people think of archival work the mind goes to literature or archaeology or in more modern times we talk about archiving internet content before it’s lost to the ravages of time. But this type of cultural loss can happen incredibly quickly, and be devastating to communities.
First of all, UNESCO defines local and indigenous knowledge to be
“… the understandings, skills and philosophies developed by societies with long histories of interaction with their natural surroundings. For rural and indigenous peoples, local knowledge informs decision-making about fundamental aspects of day-to-day life.”
Decision making based on a long cultural interaction with the local environment, is like a magical potion of pure bottled Solarpunk. Yet this is rarely the recipe we think of when considering the future.
Chi Luu writes in JSTOR’s Daily:
Is there really only one way to build a modern society, one based on Western ideology, with progress through constant growth and consumption? Is there only one kind of science we can use to truly understand the world? There’s hardly an indigenous culture surviving that does not struggle to preserve their traditional language and knowledge against the overwhelming homogenizing influences of Western colonialism.
When knowledge does not take the scientific forms we’ve come to expect from academic research, it’s rejected, but that’s due to an unthinking bias about what value traditional knowledge has to offer. If it isn’t in the form of a scientific report or paper, but is delivered in the form of a story, it’s regarded as unscientific and anecdotal folklore, no matter what new information is being conveyed.
In our story we have a community of people trying to hold on to that knowledge. But knowing about these inherent biases from western colonial influence, we could imagine the opposition they might face. Is this the best use of the community resources? Shouldn’t we be focused on the scientific studies? Phillip over there has found old manuals for tractor repair. Put your effort into decoding those.
One can imagine a high-stakes conflict between people who want to archive every scrap of dying knowledge vs people who want to use the libraries to educate and help stop further disasters. In the true Solarpunk way of internal conflict, both parties are working toward the same positive ends for the community, but have very different ideas of how it should be done.
Whether our archivists are facing internal conflict or not, there’s also the question of how the work is being done. Is there collaboration? Is there technology being put to the purpose for the benefit of the community?
There are very few pieces of fiction showcasing Wikipedia, or similar efforts. There are even fewer that showcase the drama that can unfold in these spaces where everyone is trying to write down knowledge without bias. When everyone has the ability to edit everyone else’s work, and there is no one to step in and claim authority, arguments get heated.
And perhaps people viciously typing at one another isn’t be greatest visual storytelling, but that type of engagement can come to life in many forms with a bit of imagination. Perhaps the Wikipedia of the future involves shared physical spaces!
Our archivists are impassioned individuals doing this from love, not from assignment. They may take challenges to their work personally.
I should mention one fascinating thing about Wikipedia here. It is a piece of cultural infrastructure and it’s sexy as hell. I’m referring, of course, to our second guide to Solarpunk. What’s utterly fascinating to me is that Wikipedia, as an idea, is completely incompatible with cyberpunk. There is no place in that vision of technological oppression for a community contributed repository of knowledge simply for the betterment of humanity. Wikipedia is 100% Solarpunk.
But lets get back to our prompt again.
What are some ways we can frame the prompt which would give us a unique perspective on the effort?
If the effort to archive this information isn’t creating the conflict itself, perhaps it comes from outside.
If someone from a very different culture or community saw or heard the stories of these people it might be their misunderstanding. When they hear a fable, or a micro-story setting designed to educate by allegory, the listener may hear literal things which offend, confuse, or threaten. How would they handle that interpretation? How would the community try to help settle the issue?
Or perhaps conflict is more than is needed for this story. Maybe it’s a personal journey of a child who doesn’t understand the value that the old ones carry. It’s a lesson in a lesson, then, when the children are given a project to write their family history. Perhaps we can mash up some of these ideas, too. What if the children aren’t to create an essay, but to enter their family history into a community wiki.
Is it the teacher’s doing? Or do we have another opportunity to show off the amazing power of librarians? This community may teach the children to research and archive, to do science, to investigate, and to share that information with everyone. Their greatest act of service to one another may be open source knowledge.
Open source knowledge is absolutely a gift, and one of the best possible things we can give each other today. Just like we must unlearn the false devaluing of cultural knowledge, we must also release the idea of science as belonging to the scientist.
Citizen science, citizen research, provides invaluable data to the world.
Take the tsunami at Fukushima and the nuclear disaster which followed. There was little to no data on the radiation levels in local areas, only en mass across the whole region. That lack of knowledge limited movement and insight in the region. Public fear led to massive requests and supply issues for Geiger counters. An industry went from selling five machines a month to requests for a thousand per day.
Then a nonprofit stepped in, Safecast, who were testing their new handheld. A compact plastic box housed an Arduino board, GPS, data logger, and tiny Geiger. The device’s job was simple: replace the need for manual data logging, replace the need for data aggregation, cleanup, assembly, and so on. Just record all the data in real time and report it back home immediately, every five seconds.
In a month they put together 18 million data points worldwide, not just in Japan. That data revealed that evacuation routes in the Fukushima area were wrong and needed to be adjusted.
And what of that data? Was it horded as proprietary company information to be licensed for a fee? No. It’s completely open to all and free. Oh, and so is the hardware. The specs are free and components are off-the-shelf. Anyone can build one and start collecting data, which also goes right into that open data set.
Citizen science is powerful stuff, whether it’s tracking radiation, or saving a cultural language.
The Tlingit people of Southeastern Alaska and Western Canada faced a problem. In 2007 research reported that there were fewer than 500 speakers of the language left in the world, and many of them were of advanced age. In 2014 there were only two speakers in all of Canada. The warning bells were sounded when the total number dropped quickly to 200.
The Sealaska Heritage institute knew they wanted to do something to stem the tide and save the language and culture it represented.
They spent years and years collecting audio, often by literally recording conversations with elders. Then came painstaking efforts to edit, program, and construct something tangible.
Finally in 2016 they released two free apps to learn the language. With those apps and the materials collected, all freely available, language courses have begun as well.
With any luck, those citizen scientists will save their language.
And, as difficult as it is to think about, if they failed in their primary mission, their recordings may be all that’s left of the Tlingit tongue. The spoken language of an entire tribe, gone. Reduced to a few mp3s on a hard drive.
That. That feeling right there. That is why your archivists are doing their work. Nobody had to hire them for it.
Now the hard part is for you, to put that feeling into words.
Until next time, I’m Tomasino. I hope you’ll join me for the next Solarpunk Prompt.
Music in this recording is Skyforest by Cyber Surfer 3D from Global Pattern’s compilation Solarpunk: A Brighter Perspective