I spent Thursday in a windowless basement room and it was actually really good. We had an all-day in-person workshop for everyone on the three separate but connected things I’m simultaneously working on, and it was my first time to see most of them face-to-face.

Getting onto the Jubilee Line at Canada Water is a nightmare in the morning, so I took the boat from Greenland to Westminster, and spent a pleasant and productive half an hour reviewing code. On my arrival, however, the power was out at the pier, so the machines didn’t work, and I couldn’t tap out to end my journey. One of the people working at the pier unhelpfully told me to walk to Embankment to tap out. I didn’t have time for such a wild goose chase – it’s not that far, but at least ten minutes each way – and nor should I have to. I’ve been charged a punitive maximum fare of £17. I’m in the process of claiming it back.

The activity I organised went even better than I could have hoped, and got people talking and coming up with ideas that I hadn’t considered. That was what I wanted to get out of that session, but I didn’t expect it to work so well.

On the other hand, my position on AI did not go down well among the prevailing boosterism. “How can AI help with sustainability?” My answer, approximately, “don’t use it, the energy and resource demands are terrible”, was not what anyone wanted to hear. Nor did they appreciate being asked what, concretely, they expect an “AI chatbot” to actually do.

I introduced a few people to the CIA Simple Sabotage Field Manual, a publication produced by the US around the time of the Second World War to instruct sympathetic workers in Axis countries in ways to undermine their governments. (A note for any confused readers: the US was opposed to fascism at that time.) I explained that some of the meetings feel like they take their inspiration directly from the principles within:

  • When possible, refer all matters to committees, for “further study and consideration.” Attempt to make the committees as large as possible – never less than five.

  • Bring up irrelevant issues as frequently as possible.

  • Haggle over precise wordings of communications, minutes, resolutions.

  • Refer back to matters decided upon at the last meeting and attempt to re-open the question of the advisability of that decision.

  • Advocate “caution.” Be “reasonable” and urge your fellow-conferees to be “reasonable” and avoid haste which might result in embarrassments or difficulties later on.

I had a good chat in the pub afterwards, and it was reassuring to know that others share my frustrations.

L— made it to the top of Kilimanjaro and back down again, and I got to speak to her for the first time in a week. It’s unusual to be out of touch for so long in this hyperconnected world. You might assume that a mountain has a good line of sight to cell towers, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. They go up on average, but via a lot of ups and downs and there’s often rock in the way. We were able to exchange the odd message, but some took days to get through.

I’m old enough to remember when “Death to America!” was a rallying cry against the Great Satan and not the actual policy position of the reactionary nihilists who are now dismantling its state capacity. I’m going to have a lot to explain to L— when she gets back after a fortnight away from current affairs.

The sun was out on Friday for what felt like the first time in living memory, and I cycled down to Deptford.

I picked up a couple of albums by Téléphone in the market. I was surprised to find them there, but delighted: we used to play a cover of Un autre monde in my band when I lived briefly in Alsace, and it brought back good memories of playing at fêtes du vin.

After that, I met a friend for a pub lunch at the Dog and Bell and we chatted for hours over a couple of beers.

I made it to Tate Britain in time to catch the Turner Prize exhibition on its last weekend. I was a little underwhelmed by most of it, although I really liked Claudette Johnson’s portraits. (She didn’t win.)

I’m often thinking about the motivations behind the AI push and one idea keeps coming back to me: the tech plutocrats want to extend rentierism to thinking itself. Knowledge workers don’t need to pay anyone else to just use their brains (although Adobe and Microsoft try hard to wedge a monthly subscription into that process). But if you insist that all work now requires an AI assistant, you can become a landlord in the realm of pure imagination.

We should resist this.

I’ve bookmarked a lot this week: