A while back, I mentioned the
use of a 3D printer to make Warhammer 40K models. There were plans
available, online, for an Imperial Guard Sentinel, a Leman Russ
battle tank, and a Space Marine Dreadnought. Obviously Games
Workshop, the company that puts out 40K, wasn't happy about
this fact. Somewhat ironically, given its name, Games Workshop has
always styled itself a producer of models, rather than a developer of
game systems, so a mechanism that would enable their player base to
cut them out of the loop in terms of creating their own,
personalized, fully customized armies would have to be their worst
nightmare. In a completely predictable move GW sent in their
lawyers, and Wired recently did a piece on the latest from the
scuffle, including noting that GW may not actually have much of a
legal leg to stand on. And not that I wish GW any specific harm, but
it wouldn't pain me to see a company that basically stole the setting
of Dune for their earliest iteration of 40K laughed out of court for
arguing someone else is violating their 'style'.
Don't even get me started on these guys!
But I don't specifically want to talk
about GW, today. What I wanted to talk about was 3D printing, and in
particular the more utopian rhetoric that surrounds these devices.
While many appear aware of their actual limitations, there's no
shortage of those predicting Star Trek's replicators are just around
the corner, happily oblivious to the fact that it would take the
combination of several different technologies, all currently in
relative infancy, in order to even approach the TOS-style
replicators, nevermind the more sophisticated ones seen in TNG
onwards. I think 3D printers, whether for plastic or food, are a
fantastic new innovation that will upend the world just as much as
the computer and the cellphone and the internet, but I don't think
we're just a few short years away from a post-scarcity world.
See, both at present and for the
foreseeable future, the output of 3D printers is going to be pretty
limited, both in terms of complexity and scale. Copying a
Dreadnought or a Sentinel is easy; they're relatively small,
relatively boxy things, which can be made in a single immovable piece
that's able to lose a great deal of fine detail and still remain
useful. And that's about what these devices are going to be offering
for the next few years. Now, look around yourself; what do you have,
what do you buy on a regular basis, that could be replaced by
something with those limitations? Cutlery, plates and cups, if you
don't mind looking a bit shabby; combs and hair-clips, if we can get
the detail work down far enough; small toys for children, or models
for wargames, though you could never enter the army in any official
tournaments; shelves and boxes, perhaps, if you had a sufficiently
large printer. But what do most people spend their money on?
Housing, bills, clothes, food, services, entertainment. Aside from
clothes and food you can't replace any of that even with a
fully-realized replicator, nevermind a current 3D printer. Which is
why, contrary to what some are hoping for, and some are fearing, the
sky is not, in fact, falling.
Star Trek has trained a generation of
nerds, and I count myself among them, to believe that once you have
replicators, that's it; this whole economy thing can be put behind
us, like bartering chickens for a pair of trousers, and we can get on with 'improving ourselves',
whatever that may mean to each of us, individually. But a deeper
look at the way even a replicator-possessing society would have to be
organized shows that's simply not going to be the case. And it's
going to be even more prevalent for us, now. Yes, 3D printer
technology may well advance to the point where you can make, probably
in pieces, whatever small, solid pieces you might require; you could
print out pieces of furniture and them assemble them yourself, a sort
of hybrid offspring of torrents and Ikea. And yes, the experiments
with food-printers may bear fruit, giving us at least the ability to
produce strands or sheets of pasta or flavoured pastes or grains or
the like, reducing our reliance on the basics of food and making
grocery shopping more a case buying the best complementary frills
rather than building meals from the ground up. But nobody is going
to be printing out a car, or a computer, or a cell phone. Certainly
nobody is going to be printing out a house, and even if they did,
where would they put it if they didn't own land? And what are you
supposed to print with, if you haven't got the appropriate raw
materials, and the power to run it on, and the network connection to
get the plans for all these things?
Without a heck of a lot of infrastructure supporting it, this is nothing but an ugly shelf.
So long as it isn't strangled in the
crib by companies like GW, companies that may quite rightly fear for
their future as a viable business in the face of replicator-like capabilities in the hands of the average consumer, it's entirely possible that 3D
printing will revolutionize the world. For the first time in human
history, it may be possible, both practically and economically, to
provide the basics to every human being on the planet. But the
infrastructure to support these systems is going to be massive, far
beyond what we have in place now. Some jobs, some industries will
fall by the wayside, like horse and buggy makers or telegraph
operators did in their time. But there will still be jobs. We'll need people to build
and run the power plants we'll need for all the computers designing
the plans for all the 3D printers. We'll need a hugely expanded
power delivery infrastructure, and a better network to handle all
these plans zipping back and forth. And we'll still need roads, and
sanitation, all the services governments provide to keep cities habitable. We'll need raw materials to put into these printers,
since there's exactly no chance everyone will be one hundred percent
efficient at recycling everything they use, and we're not yet at the point of being able to turn any element into any other with the push of a button. And we'll still need all
sorts of services, be they cosmetic or financial or personal. There
will still be hairdressers and barbers, restaurants with chefs and
waiters and busboys, bankers and stock brokers, doctors and lawyers
and teachers and firefighters and police officers and politicians.
Possibly the overall amount of money being made will go down, but
that's not a terrible thing; with the economy organized as it is right now, we largely have too little
work for too many people. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the
world if a person could earn a living wage with fifteen or twenty
hours a week; more jobs to go around, more shifts to share, and of
course, more free time. The productivity levels of the average
worker have climbed incalculably from the Industrial Revolution to
the present day, and there's no reason to assume they won't keep
doing so; if we went from ten or twelve hours a day, seven days a
week to eight hours a day five days a week, well, where's the harm in
going down to six hours a day, three days a week, in the future?
Rather than arbitrarily set employment at 'full time' levels, we
could force the market to reorient around 'full wage' levels, leaving
people capable of meeting their diminished economic needs in a
shorter work week. And since so many of the post-3D printer jobs will be service
based, rather than production based, the decline in
hours-to-sufficiency is even better; a restaurant that's open ten
hours, six days a week can employ a heck of a lot of people who only
need three six-hour shifts a week to meed their needs.
3D printing, whether plastic or food or
some future fabric-based system, is going to change the world. But
it's going to do so in the same way, to the same extent, that the
telephone, and the internet, and the steam engine changed the world;
it's going to reorder the world that exists, not create a wholly new
one. I look forward to a future where people work as hard as they
want to, not as hard as they possibly can, because our material needs are so
much less demanding than they are now. But I don't for a second
imagine that this future will be some eternal utopian summer holiday;
there will still be people with jobs, making money to buy things.
What they buy may be different, and how they make their money may
have changed, but the fundamental nature of the present system will
not change overnight. There's just too much that goes into it for
one alteration, no matter how potentially paradigm shifting, to upend
it overnight.
Contrary to what some might think, this is not a synonym for 'new technology'.
Which isn't to say I wouldn't love
living in a post-scarcity society. It's just that I'm confronted by
the most basic problem of science-fiction, whether utopian or
dystopian; I just can't see any way to get there, from here.
I have to admit that I'm more intrigued by the notion of the Standard Template Construction than by the notions of a post-scarcity society (since there's always scarcity of something), or replicator-esque technology (a by-product of cheap special effects).
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