Technology's Role in Bike Destruction during Shortages

One poignant example is the mass destruction of functional Uber Jump bikes, a wasteful act stemming from software compatibility issues and contractual disputes, coinciding with a time when essential workers in the U.S. needed bikes due to the collapse of public transit early in the pandemic. This act starkly contrasts with the resourceful essence of techne. It exemplifies unethical and unsustainable practices, yet these companies are still hailed as innovative.

These bikes were not surplus to needs; they were surplus to Uber's growth model, which prioritizes rapid upgrades over durability. The sight of these bikes being destroyed was particularly disheartening, especially as reports indicated a severe bike shortage in the U.S. due to global supply chain disruptions. A recent headline from Bloomberg CityLab highlighted the bicycle's newfound prominence during the health crisis, yet the Jump bikes were discarded, their bright red paint symbolizing their youth and potential for reuse.

As I have discussed in other writings, when evaluated purely through conventional user-centered design methodologies, systems like Uber and Jump may seem well-constructed. It is not the fault of interaction designers refining user experiences, as they are merely executing directives. However, if the design discipline still struggles to grasp the growth dynamics influencing user experience nearly fifty years after Papanek's groundbreaking Design for the Real World, we have collectively failed, akin to the field of economics.

The destruction of those perfectly functional bikes serves as a visceral reminder of this failure. Uber's stock market valuation is not intrinsically linked to the fate of those bikes. Similarly, design's perceived value and GDP, which benefits from every transaction in this troubling scenario, are disconnected from real-world outcomes.

This situation highlights several mental models at play: the prioritization of growth-focused startups and market capitalization over tangible outcomes; strategies aimed at market dominance; a design approach fixated on individual user experiences instead of broader resilience; and a tech sector that is largely oblivious to the wider social context and needs.

> “An amazing COVID e-bike program could’ve done so much good and instead we have horrific images of bikes being eaten by the Claw at the dump. It’s a shameful nightmare.” — A former JUMP employee

The technology integrated into those Jump bikes rendered them less resilient than they could have been. This is an example of design that lacks care.

The bicycle, on the other hand, can be seen as a near-ideal design. Steve Jobs famously noted its efficiency in his assertion that computers are like bicycles for the mind, drawing inspiration from S.S. Wilson’s 1973 study published in Scientific American.

In his article, Wilson used calorie-to-weight charts to argue that a man on a bicycle is the most efficient mode of transportation among all animals. He posed the question of why such a seemingly simple device as the bicycle significantly accelerated technological advancement, attributing it to the bicycle’s inherent humanity: it facilitates easier movement for individuals without imposing on others' schedules or resources.

Ivan Illich later echoed Wilson’s sentiments in his 1978 pamphlet Toward a History of Needs:

> “Bicycles allow individuals to travel quickly without consuming excessive amounts of space, energy, or time. They enable longer distances to be covered without demanding more from others. Their design fosters autonomy in movement while respecting communal space, unlike motorized vehicles, which escalate demands on time and space. The use of bicycles is self-limiting, promoting a balanced relationship between life-space and life-time without disrupting inherited balances. The benefits of modern self-powered transport are clear, yet overlooked.” — Ivan Illich (1978)

Returning to Wilson's conclusion, he suggested that if one were to prescribe a rational approach to global issues surrounding development, transportation, health, and resource efficiency, the simple formula would be: “Cycle and recycle.”

Nonetheless, the mass adoption of cycling and recycling remains elusive, with only a few notable exceptions. Our collective mental models often reject these obvious advantages in favor of abstract constructs, such as disposing of bikes to elevate market capitalization through technological upgrades. I recall a moment in my previous role in urban innovation circles in the UK when someone in a higher position expressed that we should undertake fewer cycling projects since the government believed there was no financial benefit in bicycles.

The Uber-Jump incident epitomizes the reckless integration of Big Tech's characteristics into the bicycle's everyday utility, as described by David Edgerton. The bike’s resilient, straightforward, and near-perfect design was compromised by excessive technology, primarily aimed at market success rather than actual utility. While some contemporary e-bikes demonstrate a more sensitive integration of technology—such as those from VanMoof, Cowboy, and Sushi Bike—these are produced by European companies, not coincidentally.

The Slowdown in Technological Innovation

While the Uber/Jump model of technology contradicts the concept of techne, it paradoxically embodies our era's perception of rapid technological evolution. Big Tech is often viewed as the driving force behind this frenetic pace, characterized by a perception of constant disruption and innovation.

Contrarily, this chaos represents the sputtering engine at the conclusion of the Great Acceleration, revealing a longing for past simplicity. Kevin Kelly, in a TEDx talk in San Francisco promoting his book What Technology Wants, posited that technology fundamentally amplifies change.

This perspective, however, is fundamentally flawed. Danny Dorling, in his book Slowdown, argues that the rate of technological innovation has significantly decelerated over recent decades. Stanford’s Nicholas Bloom also supports this assertion, noting that despite increased investment in research and development, the productivity of individual researchers has been declining for decades.

Dorling presents a compelling narrative: if you were born in the West around 1900, you would have witnessed a world transitioning from horse-drawn transportation to supersonic jets and moon landings within a single lifetime. He provides numerous instances illustrating how the technological advancements of the Great Acceleration surpass those of our current age, claiming the 1930s as the peak decade for innovation.

Yet, we find ourselves in a time where the tech sector is elevated as a panacea for myriad problems, despite its stagnating capacity for breakthrough innovation. As Dorling aptly notes, there is considerable resistance to the notion that technology is no longer progressing at the pace it once did. We stretch our vocabulary to make grand claims about machine learning and the Internet of Things; however, as Dorling wryly observes:

> “The washing machine itself was a great leap forward. Getting washing machines to communicate with one another is not.”

This example underscores a more profound understanding of technology within a broader social justice framework, rather than merely pursuing market growth. The true innovation of the washing machine occurred over a century ago, liberating generations, especially women, from the burdens of laundry, thereby allowing for greater workforce participation. In contrast, an Amazon Dash button attached to a washing machine for easy detergent reordering contributes little to social equity, and was discontinued after four years.

Cedric Price’s 1966 adage, “Technology is the answer. But what was the question?”, remains relevant, as it encapsulates our tendency to leap at new technologies without first considering the broader context or the questions we need to ask about technology's role. We should not start with the assumption of ‘cars’; instead, we should ask, “What kind of city do we envision, and what values should it represent? How might this city facilitate movement?”

Technology encompasses a vast range of possibilities, with all our inventions—from pencils to libraries, streets, and clothing—qualifying as technologies. Among the most intriguing avenues of exploration today involves research into nature-based technologies, often rooted in indigenous practices. (Refer to my earlier paper for a deeper discussion on this topic, especially as articulated by Julia Watson in her recent book, Lo-TEK: Design by Radical Indigenism.)

These nature-based technologies integrate biodiverse and health-affirming environments into social and cultural infrastructures. As with De Monchaux’s prototype, they represent more than mere functional alternatives; they embody cultural significance, stewardship, and relationality. Is it too far-fetched to consider a connection between softer, more adaptable landscapes and their social and psychological counterparts?

In their responsive and engaged nature, these technologies echo Jonathan Raban’s notion of the 'soft city', where the urban environment is not a rigid structure, but rather fluid, flexible, and inviting.

> “(The city) invites you to remake it, to consolidate it into a shape you can live in … Decide who you are, and the city will again assume a fixed form around you.” — Jonathan Raban

Though Raban's vision is rooted in a deeply human perspective, this adaptable and relational approach—contrasting with the rigid urban planning paradigms of today—can inspire new mental models for developing nature-based infrastructures. For instance, consider the technologies highlighted in my previous Slowdown Paper: the Gates Foundation's ‘Toilet of the Future’ initiative versus the East Kolkata Wetlands.

The Omniprocessor fecal sludge treatment plant, a flagship outcome of the Gates project, processes substantial amounts of sewage daily and generates drinking water. While this is undoubtedly beneficial, the East Kolkata Wetlands also represent a form of technology—specifically, a nature-based infrastructure shaped by human interaction with landscape and ecosystems.

A cursory comparison between the two reveals that the Wetlands outperform the Omniprocessor on various metrics: biodiversity, job creation, maintenance, food production, water filtration, and resilience, to name a few. The only metric where the Omniprocessor may have an advantage is its potential for venture capital investment.

A system like the Wetlands requires ongoing care, maintenance, and engagement—essentially a gardening approach. It is slow, labor-intensive, and organic, yielding positive outcomes. Its effectiveness stands in stark contrast to traditional notions of efficiency, which often prioritize speed over quality.

Consider the disparity: 14 tons of waste treated versus 700 million tons? Maybe 80 jobs created versus 80,000? Zero biodiversity compared to rich ecosystems? The comparison is clear.

Reframing places like the East Kolkata Wetlands as infrastructures is crucial. Eric Klinenberg posits that modern society has been constructed around the value of infrastructure, often viewed through the narrow lens of the Great Acceleration and its quantifiable metrics. As Watson seeks to "rebuild an understanding of indigenous philosophy and vernacular architecture for sustainable, climate-resilient infrastructures," so too must we recognize that infrastructure embodies profound significance.

As Susan Leigh Star and Karen Ruhleder articulated:

> “Infrastructure appears only as a relational property, not as a thing stripped of use, and the choices and policies embedded in such systems become articulated components. Substrate becomes substance.”

The implications of the Omniprocessor are clear; its substance is evident in its substrate. In the Netflix documentary Inside Bill’s Mind (2019), Gates demonstrated his tendency to view technology through a limited prism. Despite his extensive reading, his perspective remains constrained by the Silicon Valley paradigm. As he states, “When you’re a hammer, everything looks like a nail.” His lens is primarily composed of code, cloud computing, and concrete solutions.

While the Omniprocessor is indeed a valuable addition to Dakar's sanitation infrastructure, we must also acknowledge its limitations and adopt a more inclusive, diverse, and inquisitive approach to technology.

Failing to do so not only perpetuates a narrow interpretation of technology but also diminishes the value of richer alternatives. Recent satellite imagery indicates significant degradation of the East Kolkata Wetlands, with development encroaching on this vital nature-based infrastructure. This carelessness stands in stark contrast to the careful stewardship these ecosystems require.

Amitav Ghosh, who grew up in Kolkata, succinctly captures the gravity of the situation:

> “If something (like a natural disaster) happens, the two things that protect Kolkata are the East Kolkata Wetlands and the Sunderbans. This vast wetland makes life in the city possible. If development occurs on these lands, it is doomed. When floods come, they will destroy everything. This is a disastrous idea.” — Amitav Ghosh, Hindustani Times, 25 August 2016

In The Great Derangement, Ghosh connects Kolkata with other coastal cities facing similar threats, linking their growth dynamics with their physical vulnerabilities:

> “It is surely no accident that colonial cities like Mumbai, New York, Boston, and Kolkata were all brought into existence through early globalization. They were interconnected not only by their founding circumstances but also by the trade patterns that propelled Western economies. These cities are thus the architects of the very processes that now threaten their existence.” — Amitav Ghosh, The Great Derangement (2016)

Could reframing older, pre-Accelerationist, nature-based systems like the Wetlands as forms of technology or infrastructure ensure their intrinsic value is recognized in a world that prioritizes such constructs? Or does this approach merely play into their narrative? Our definitions of technology and infrastructure are overly narrow, shaped by the prevailing Silicon Valley monoculture, rendering the Wetlands virtually invisible.

This mirrors the tactics employed by English colonizers in Australia, who disregarded the complex patterns of indigenous settlement, labeling the land Terra Nullis, a ‘blank canvas’ for exploitation. The land was never empty; it simply appeared so to those whose perspectives were dulled by colonial attitudes. Robert Hughes’s The Fatal Shore provides valuable insights on this topic, as does Paul Memmott’s work on indigenous architecture.

Gautam Bhan effectively critiques the current framing of technology in Indian cities, advocating for a new vocabulary and discourse. Instead of focusing on the grand designs of programmers and policymakers, we should celebrate the resilience, creativity, and everyday innovations of citizens and neighborhoods. He emphasizes the need for terms that reflect our identities and the way our cities have evolved, looking no further than our own streets.

As India grapples with the ongoing pandemic, Bhan emphasizes that "no one benefits from ineffective public policy." He does not advocate for a rejection of governance but rather encourages a reevaluation of the conditions in which millions of migrant workers find themselves.

As I write, the attempt to reinvigorate the Indian economy is faltering, exacerbated by a mass exodus of individuals from major cities, which Arundhati Roy poignantly describes as:

> “Our towns and megacities began to extrude their working-class citizens like so much unwanted accrual.” — Arundhati Roy

The COVID-19 pandemic has unveiled this grim reality, revealing a deeper pattern embedded in the language of aspirational growth, efficiency, and a limited understanding of technology and the environment, framed through the lens of Western ideals during the Great Acceleration—a model whose time has passed.

The Value of Inspired Inefficiency

In the midst of this turmoil, it is critical to remain vigilant against a resurgence of the efficiency-driven ethos embodied by today’s Big Tech. The concept of Silicon Valley is fundamentally rooted in optimization, and history has shown the pitfalls of this mindset in urban planning.

In her satirical piece in How to Run a City Like Amazon, and Other Fables (2019), Shannon Mattern critiques the typical elements of Silicon Valley—growth, capital, optimization, and elitism—especially in the context of urban development.

Her story, “Let’s Make This An Urban Product Everybody Wants”, satirizes the venture capitalist Y Combinator’s announcement of a ‘New Cities initiative’. It imagines a press event filled with phrases like, “Baltimore can become a change agent for the world, demonstrating new global paradigms, iterating our way out of injustice and inequality, cultivating ecosystems for full optimization and self-actualization.”

To illustrate how closely this fictional narrative mirrors reality, it’s worth noting that Y Combinator’s actual post regarding their New Cities initiative begins with:

> “There are many high-level questions we want to think through, for example: What should a city optimize for?; How should we measure the effectiveness of a city (what are its KPIs)?”

This line of questioning raises serious concerns about the appropriateness of such language, particularly in the wake of crises like COVID-19 and movements like Black Lives Matter. It indicates a fundamental misunderstanding of urban life.

The Y Combinator New Cities Twitter account launched in October 2016, but its last update was in March 2017. While there may be hope for their initiatives, history suggests a pattern of unfulfilled promises and abandoned schemes from a culture that has not traditionally embraced diversity.

Despite a significant surge in market capitalization for tech companies during lockdowns, the more profound questions raised by these developments highlight the inappropriateness of the tech industry treating cities as experimental laboratories or physical extensions of their digital platforms—essentially, a mine for further value extraction. Companies like Airbnb, Uber, and WeWork have not significantly enhanced the urban environments in which they operate; in many cases, they have caused considerable harm.

It is entirely feasible for urban tech startups to operate in ways that are sensitive to social justice, non-extractive, and respectful of public institutions and processes.

For example, Urban Sharing, the operator of the Oslo Byskkel bike-share program, has been analyzing gender diversity data for some time. They recognize that a singular focus on optimization perpetuates existing biases in urban planning, which has historically catered to male commuting patterns. Consequently, they are adapting their algorithms to prioritize strategic outcomes aligned with the city’s sustainable development goals, rather than reinforcing patterns of discrimination.

This approach exemplifies advanced technology that shapes urban environments while prioritizing social fabric over metrics like average revenue per user or market share. The Swedish e-scooter company Voi shares similar aspirations for sustainable urban environments, articulating its mission to “shape cities for people, reduce air and noise pollution, and alleviate traffic congestion across Europe.”

Just as care does not equate to efficiency, cities should not be defined solely by efficiency metrics. While efficient public transit is desirable, it should not overshadow broader goals like community building, cultural vibrancy, or social cohesion. The former facilitates the latter, but we do not create cities merely to construct buildings or roadways—at least, we shouldn't.

The obsession with efficiency, particularly as influenced by Le Corbusier, led to a misapplication of urban planning principles, prioritizing one-dimensional efficiency over holistic urban qualities. An understanding of technology aligned with the dynamics of slowdown could foster a focus on social progress and environmental justice, moving away from the hyper-growth model driven by venture capital. This approach would reveal a diverse array of technologies, combining various elements in innovative ways.

There are stories within living memory that illustrate the value of a more nuanced understanding of technology and the loss incurred when such perspectives were sidelined in favor of efficiency. In 1987, Pete Hammill wrote a reflective piece on New York, acknowledging the risks of nostalgia but lamenting the destruction of the trolley-car system:

> “The most foolish decision made post-war was the dismantling of the trolley-car network. Every time I see a bus belching fumes, I yearn for the trolleys, which were electric and environmentally friendly. They operated on tracks, preventing the chaos of double-parking that plagues our streets today.” — Pete Hammill, The New York We’ve Lost, New York Magazine, 21–28 December 1987

The inherent slowness of the trolley-car technology has enduring virtues, evident in cities that have retained them. Reflecting on the last 30 years, we see cities like Sydney that are investing heavily to reinstate trams, reminiscent of the routes they used to have, while Melbourne has successfully integrated trams into its urban fabric.

These values are gradually being rediscovered—see also the aforementioned article by Anthony Lane on sleeper trains.

A more profound understanding of technology does not impose rigid, non-adaptive frameworks. Instead, it embraces a layered approach. Considering mobility, we can devise a strategy that integrates heavy, long-range transportation systems like subways and trams with lighter, more adaptable systems such as buses, ferries, and shuttles, all while prioritizing active transport modes (cycling, walking, scooting) and enhancing user experience.

Backing the car sought to erase these layers in a non-adaptive manner, disguising individualism and industrial growth as notions of freedom and progress. Once streets are designed around cars, the potential for alternative uses is lost.

> “The deepest challenges of modern life stem from the individual's struggle to maintain autonomy amid overwhelming societal forces, historical legacies, cultural influences, and the techniques of daily existence.” — Georg Simmel, The Metropolis and Mental Life (1903)

We can observe similar tendencies in Elon Musk’s uncompromising Boring Company proposal to construct tunnels beneath Las Vegas. While there is knowledge to glean from Las Vegas, Musk’s vision does little to alleviate car congestion, which will likely worsen as a result. Altering tunnel construction methods does not address the core issues; it reflects an outdated model focused on individual efficiency and profit.

Alissa Walker accurately encapsulates the situation:

> “Musk’s tunnels have become a perfect metaphor for the public-private dilemmas that post-COVID cities will encounter. Almost 40% of Las Vegas’s transit funding derives from sales tax, which plummeted from $4.7 million in February to just $398,943 in May. As cuts are imminent, public meetings are scheduled to discuss proposed service reductions, including the elimination of a vital bus route linking the airport to downtown, while a $50 million tunnel for a few Teslas nears completion beneath their feet.” — Alissa Walker, Somehow Elon Musk’s Tesla Tunnels Are Even Less Useful Now, Curbed, 23 July 2020

Despite being a leader in venture capital, Y Combinator's approach reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of technology, as it does not align with the traditional VC-driven Silicon Valley model.

As Mattern indicates, without a fresh perspective, they will likely remain unaware of the significant social focus of Oslo Bysykkel’s algorithms, which prioritize deliberate inefficiency, or the immense value generated by the East Kolkata Wetlands, which resists financial capture. Both approaches expand the definition of technology, situated in opposing corners yet sharing sensibilities of care, maintenance, culture, and craftsmanship.

Sara Hendren, who possesses profound insights into technology, recently articulated a thought-provoking response to MIT’s search for a new director—an initiative that has sparked critical reflections on the broader technological culture.

She advocates for a new direction centered on repair and critique.

> “Let’s define ‘repair’ mode as the ideal scenario for new technologies that emerge to genuinely benefit humanity ... the world gains essential technology that addresses real needs.”

> “‘Critique’ has been a concern at the Lab, but it has not been sufficiently defined or robustly supported ... Technological critique should translate urgent socio-political questions into tangible realities. These are public technologies with significant stakes attached.”

While they may currently seem far apart, the approaches to nature-based technologies like the East Kolkata Wetlands and Australian 'cool burns' could potentially benefit from integrating satellite data, sensor networks, and contemporary biomaterials.

This synthesis would require meticulous craftsmanship and an honest assessment of the associated value, but it could yield fruitful outcomes by building on the foundation of nature-based technologies rather than the more restricted paradigms of the current tech industry. Prioritizing the Earth's most valuable ecosystems over its most lucrative corporations could prove transformative.

Is it possible to detach technology from Silicon Valley's blitzscaling mentality, placing it instead within the context of a slowdown characterized by nature-based technologies or community-driven architectures? What might these everyday infrastructures, technologies, and landscapes look and feel like?