Printing Utopia: The Domain of the 3D Printer in the Making of Commons-Based Futures

Abstract

ABSTRACT The 3D printer is a “projection screen” for the eco-social maker movement. It signifies a desire for networked collaboration, ecological and social participation, political empowerment, and socioeconomic transformation. Yet the 3D printer is not producing anything that fulfils such a comprehensive and disruptive potential. While it has become a profound agent for a commons-based future that aims to solve the global challenges of modernity, it is a tool, rather than an agent of the maker movement. This article explores the utopian potential of the 3D printer within the discourse of commons-based future-making. Along with a wide range of academic and popular literature, the sociotechnical motives of a commons-based imaginary are analyzed and discussed in their historical construction and social order. Indeed, the 3D printer revitalizes longstanding desires for social transformation, giving them fresh impetus. Because of its interpretative flexibility, the 3D printer has become a “weak desire machine” that allows members of the maker movement to express their utopian desires. On the one hand, the 3D printer helps make utopian desires tangible and negotiable. On the other hand, the 3D printer tends to promote a techno-positivist approach that oversimplifies social change, losing sight of alternatives and ambiguities.

Keywords:

• maker movement
• design activism
• utopia
• 3D printing
• sociotechnical imaginaries
• boundary object
• commoning
• degrowth

Introduction

Members of eco-social maker communities pose big questions: How do we want to live in a globalized world? How do we want to address global challenges, such as climate change, the COVID-19 pandemic, energy transition, or social polarization, all of which globalization has exacerbated? How can we live and consume on a planet with limited resources? Where do we want to produce? How do we want to organize ourselves? What infrastructures do we need? What do we not need? These questions take on a new urgency in the face of the increasing number of crises in recent years, such as the financial crisis, the refugee crisis, the climate crisis, and, most recently, the global COVID-19 pandemic. Design theorist Irwin (2015) refers to global challenges as the “wicked problems” of the twenty-first century, to which the members of the maker movement are now seeking answers in and through 3D printing.

Through science and technology, modernity has not only produced a complex understanding of the world; it has increased the world’s complexity. The relations seem to be too closely intertwined to be comprehensively understood. Therefore, makers no longer hold “those at the top” solely accountable for the complex social, political, and ecological circumstances but, instead, makers recognize their own responsibility. Thus, global issues seem to become increasingly personal challenges that everyone must ameliorate through their own contributions.

For makers, this is a call to action that can be witnessed in numerous socially and ecologically motivated initiatives emerging from counterculture movements such as hacking, free software and open-source, “do-it-yourself” activities, or civic activism, which I will refer to under the umbrella concept of the “maker movement.”

By speculating on possible futures, makers create shared visions, which they make tangible through prototypes. Even if the prototypes manufactured in makerspaces seem less sophisticated – such as a 3D-printed door opener to avoid contact (Figure 1) or an automatic soap dispenser using Arduino – makers materialize a collective understanding of community values.

Figure 1 Screenshot showing a collection of 3D-printed door openers designed in response to the Covid 19 pandemic and uploaded to the platform “Thingiverse,” December 2021, by the author. https://www.thingiverse.com/.

The maker’s visions manifest in manuals, tutorials, online repositories, community events, or workspaces and in a vast number of files, protocols, practices, or “crappy objects.” They are marginalized as ephemeral media but are worth a closer look because they all emerge in the discourse on commons-based future-making and at the periphery of the 3D printer.

At this point, it has already become clear that the symbolic meaning of the 3D printer goes far beyond its technical and operational function of printing objects. “New technology” plays a key role within community activities and the 3D printer is one of the most intriguing gadgets of the maker movement. According to design researcher Stein (2017), the 3D printer is both a set of developing technologies and social phenomenon. Thus, for the maker movement, the 3D printer becomes a projection screen for longstanding visions of decentralized and democratic production, eco-social participation, and open, shared knowledge. The 3D printer seems to be the tool that makes such desires tangible while at the same time reducing the complexity of the many possible futures.

This article makes a theoretical contribution to situate the 3D printer in the imaginary of commons-based futures. It discusses the utopian potential of the 3D printer and how it might facilitate and form a commons-based future. Through the conceptual unfolding of a commons-based imaginary, I discuss the driving motives of the makers’ utopian vision, unveiling its ambivalent tensions.

First, I outline the theoretical framework and show why it is necessary to refer to imaginaries in the field of design studies. This is followed by a brief review of the relevant academic and programmatic literature to frame a discourse that encompasses commoning, making, and 3D printing. In this context, voices from civic activists and the maker scene will be considered, as well as those from academic encounters with 3D printing. The second part of the analysis is followed by a detailed consideration of the imaginary of a commons-based future. Based on Jasanoff and Kim’s (2015, 19) characterization of sociotechnical imaginaries, I unfold the basic motives in their “historical construction and social order” and carve out its reductionist tendency. In the discussion, I then focus on the ambivalent role of the 3D printer and its interpretative flexibility as a core quality. In the face of crises, the 3D printer enables members of different communities to express their desires and negotiate a common vision of the future. Finally, I conclude with the main statements and locate the 3D-printed utopia in the tradition of the universal utopias of classical modernity.

Theoretical Framework

A consideration of how the maker movement negotiates the future requires both a cultural sociological perspective and a comprehensive understanding of design practices. The field of design studies integrates both perspectives and, therefore, is the most productive for consideration. The field of design studies reflects on design as a cultural practice and asks about the effects of design activities on the modern world. The modern world is understood as something formed in which people and the environment, as well as future values, are affected by that design. Current discourses on design theory and practices broaden the concept from “a design of everyday objects” to a more holistic understanding of “a design of society” (Manzini 2015). Summarized under the umbrella term “design activism,” which includes practices of civic activism and social or transformation design approaches, design is no longer tied to, but rather opposed to, consumer culture (Jonas 2015; Irwin 2015; Escobar 2018; van Helvert 2016; Midal 2019; Colomina and Wigley 2019). Thus, design activism is particularly about a productive criticism of the capitalist mindset, about the conditions that shaped this mindset, and about designing possible alternatives. The activities of design activism imagine idealized scenarios. Therefore, elaborations on design activism must situate the activities in a larger context and reflect on them in the mirror of late modernity. However, design-theoretical contributions on design activism tend to lack a more fundamental understanding of how the social comes into being. It is also important to consider a cultural sociological perspective.

The cultural sociology of design helps focus on the relationship between artifact and society, how social relations are constituted and constructed, and how one can “think through things” (Moebius and Prinz 2012, 11). The becoming of a design object is examined as a complex interaction between the practices of human and nonhuman actors (Moebius and Prinz 2012). Here, the designer, the materials, and the technical equipment become the cocreators of an object. This is an important way of looking at the versatile role of the 3D printer within the maker movement. Instead of taking the maker movement only as a social network of people, a cultural sociological perspective also includes interactions with technology and objects (nonhuman actors). This, of course, has methodological consequences. In the analysis, I will consider the explicit claims made in the maker discourse, just as much as the implicit socio-material qualities of 3D printing.

In Dreamscapes of Modernity, Jasanoff and Kim (2015) show how the sociotechnical imaginary is a product of the supposed technological possibilities in the mirror of late modernity. Its embedding – the coming into being of a collective vision – takes place through the “coproduction of ideas, materiality, values, and sociality” (Jasanoff and Kim 2015, 326). Considering Jasanoff’s (2015, 326) comments about the “embedding of desired futures,” one could say “the making of the future,” that is, the negotiation, tinkering, and prototyping of desired places, becomes a key practice of the maker movement. However, Jasanoff’s understanding of the cooperation between human and nonhuman actors differs from Latour’s (2005) actor-network theory. Although a productive structure would consist of heterogeneous elements, such as “people, objects, nonhuman entities, organizations and texts […] it is still humans and their collectives who can imagine a world” (Latour 2005, 15, 17). The associated wishes, visions, and expectations help “produce a system of meanings” (Latour 2005, 220), whereby a social order, belonging, and political action can be produced. In terms of the maker’s practices, the focus is on the close connection between technology, material, and human experience, from which the imaginary of a commons-based future can be developed.

These perspectives complement each other: starting from the design practices, design studies look at the broader social and cultural context; in turn, a cultural sociology locates the negotiation of power relations in the practice of design. The envisioned future becomes the design object, “the product” itself, as Jasanoff states (2015, 326).

A theoretical unfolding of the imaginary is important for recognizing the complex relationship between technology and society and between the 3D printer and the maker communities. In this context, Stein’s (2017) article, “The Political Imaginaries of 3D Printing: Prompting Mainstream and Awareness of Design and Making,” makes an important contribution. She identifies three political imaginaries in 3D printing, and although these may differ in their fundamental political orientation, they “share one important thing: an increasing awareness of design, making, and production” (Stein 2017, 1). Following Stein, I want to explore these similarities within the diverse landscape of the maker movement to elaborate on the role of the 3D printer and discuss the power relations that evolve in the cocreation of futures.

Analysis

Mapping the Discourse of a Commons-Based Future-Making

Richterich et al. (2017, 9) describe the maker movement as “a technologically inspired revival of DIY culture,” one supported by a global network of “somewhat idealistically motived and entrepreneurial minded” makers. Maker communities build on open-source activities and DIY practices, but also a strong community spirit and willingness to share knowledge, skills, and other resources. Tinkering with so-called “new technologies,” such as the 3D printer, is characteristic of the maker movement, as is the positive belief in achieving social change through action. Therefore, the 3D printer receives special attention. Operational knowledge is typically shared in the form of best practice instructions and tutorials, which are distributed via online platforms, such as Thingiverse, GitHub, or even YouTube. They often include deliberations of the influence that 3D printing technology has, could have, or should have on society.

In addition to the fuzzy category of amateur manuals, many of the publications are academic papers and reports in the fields of engineering and economics. They deal with the innovative benefits of the 3D printer and expect that a “disruptive quality for social change” (Manyika et al. 2013) will accompany it. Frequently, these papers can be found in journals with a design orientation in which the notion of design is scientifically coded (Balka 2011; Manyika et al. 2013; Kostakis and Papachristou 2014; Jiménez 2014, Bonvoisin 2016; Félix, Dias, and Clemente 2017; Bonneau and Yi 2017; Jordan 2018).

Another resource for articles explicitly deals with the intersection of 3D printing and society. These articles represent perspectives from science and technology studies (STS), economic philosophy, social sciences, design studies, or cultural geography, while also dealing with a more general understanding of society. In papers, individual chapters, or reports, cases of open source and makerspaces are often used as examples of successful application but are rarely critically examined (Gershenfeld 2012; Kostakis, Niaros, and Giotitsas 2015; Hermans 2015; Kostakis et al. 2018; Richardson 2016; Roberts 2017; Stein 2017; Ferrari 2017; Resch, Southwick, and Ratto 2018; Keppner et al. 2018; Gasparotto 2019).

A third category of linguistic manifestations in the discourse of postcapitalist future-making is dominated by social concepts and discourses around open source, degrowth, common-based peer production, or commoning; that is, the shared organization, production, and care of common goods beyond market and state (Ostrom 1990). An extensive source for this can be found in interdisciplinary anthologies, which include contributions from cultural theory and social sciences, as well as self-observations, activist project outlines, best practice examples, or manifestos. In the more programmatic texts, the 3D printer is repeatedly cited as an example to illustrate the feasibility of the desired visions (Helfrich 2012; Troxler 2013; Troxler and van Woensel 2013; De Filipi and Troxler 2015; Baier, Müller, and Werner 2013; Seravalli 2014; D’Alisa, Demaria, and Kallis 2015; Helfrich and Bollier 2015; Adloff and Heins 2015; Baier et al. 2016; Siefkes 2016; Bauwens, Kostakis, and Pazaitis 2019).

Across the very different textual genres of amateur manuals, academic papers, and programmatic manifestos, a progressive engagement with the future can be found. The techno-positivist vision for social change is closely associated with the 3D printer and its expected agency. In essence, this is a more general proof of concept as a facilitator of desired change.¹

It is suspicious that many of the contributions come from European industrialized countries. Yet commoning, degrowth, and making represent discourses that react to the development of industrialized nations (Braybrooke and Jordan 2017). For example, the activist protest movement Décroissance (French for degrowth) was formed in France in the early 2000s and advocated for car-free cities or communal meals in public spaces (D’Alisa, Demaria, and Kallis 2015, 2). About ten years later, an intellectual movement, which was also initiated in France, was founded under the name Les Convivialistes. The supporters wrote a manifesto for a “new art of living together,” which later found resonance in many European countries. Similar debates have been held in German-speaking countries under the term “commoning.”

D’Alisa, Demaria, and Kallis (2015, 5) critique the concept of degrowth as only applicable to the “overdeveloped economies of the Global North.” Similarly, the Colombian design theorist Escobar (2018, 145, 150) sees the degrowth movement as primarily representing the concerns of the Global North: “the degrowth movement is based on the critique of economic growth as the number-one goal and arbiter of what societies do. […] while degrowth is fine for the North, the South needs development.”

However, Escobar (2018) does not generally criticize the degrowth movement or commoning activities. Instead, he situates the movements in their local relevance and understands them as a contribution to the plural “transition discourses” that have been emerging worldwide. Their common goal is “a profound cultural, economic, and political transformation of dominant institutions and practices” (Escobar 2018, 10), which is manifested in the Global North and Global South in different discourses, movements, and activities. Escobar (2018, 140) notes that, “While the age to come is described in the North as being postgrowth, postmaterialist, posteconomic, postcapitalist, and posthuman, for the South it is expressed in terms of being postdeveloped, nonliberal, postcapitalist/noncapitalist, biocentric, and postextractivist.”

Despite the wide range of academic and popular literature dealing with the characteristics and importance of 3D printing as a driver for social change, there are clear overlaps in how its emancipatory potential is understood and addressed. In the following section, the discussion of a commons-based imaginary is expanded by looking at it sociotechnical motives.

The 3D Printed Imaginary of Commons-Based Futures…

Commoning describes the shared organization and care of common goods. These can be material resources as well as knowledge that is organized peer-to-peer (Bauwens, Kostakis, and Pazaitis 2019). Commoning is based on the vision of a future beyond market and state (Ostrom 1990; Helfrich 2012). As a mindset for the “complete transformation of social and economic relations” (Stein 2017, 11), the commons-based vision contrasts with the simple, technical device of the 3D printer. Basically, 3D printing is an additive process for the physical production of digital objects, in which material is applied to a surface in layers. The technical processes can vary greatly. According to the “Digital Manufacturing Trends” report of 3D Hubs AG (2018), so-called “fused deposition modeling” processes are used primarily in the home and amateur sector, which includes the maker community. In addition to commercial 3D printers for private use, there are also a large number of self-builts with open source licenses. RepRap is probably the best known and most frequently reproduced model (3D Hubs 2018, 5). The printer is made of “real, robust, mechanical parts” (Zheng 2009, 115) and has attracted wide attention because it “literally makes a copy of itself” (Zheng 2009, 115). Despite the increasing variety of models, printable materials, and applications, the principles of 3D printing remain the same, as do the projected techno-optimistic visions of instant manufacturing. The RepRap is thus the missing link between the utopian concept of the commons and the banal, technical principle of 3D printing. As a low-cost home device and supported by a vivid community, the RepRap stands for a possible democratization of production (De Filipi and Troxler 2015; Stein 2017, 12). Simply through the theoretical ability to reproduce itself, the RepRap embodies the commons vision of a post-capitalist economy (Stein 2017, 4; Paech 2016, 287; Troxler 2016, 88).

The commoning processes take place “outside traditional structures and are carried out by individuals or smaller groups acting as grassroots movements” (Seravalli 2014, 91). These experiments and a trial-and-error attitude are inherent in the maker movement and are also seen in the strong networks of community members; they are pursued as critical practice – or as a positive protest – to hierarchically perceived, exclusive expertise (Baier et al. 2016; Seravalli 2014, 66). To expand participation and enable interest-based cooperation, virtual platforms are used for documentation and exchange. The development of such decentralized infrastructures aims to make knowledge openly accessible and democratized through participation (Baier et al. 2016, 53; Stein 2017, 14; Gershenfeld 2012).

Another vision projected onto the 3D printer is to enable local and demand-oriented production. Ideally, it should be part of a self-organizing environment in which recycling, upcycling, cradle-to-cradle, or similar collecting cycles are created (Stein 2017, 14–15). In community-based peer production, 3D printers are often embedded in spaces of community exchange or social events, such as hackathons and FabLabs. The aim here is to create collaborative value that is not compensated for in monetary terms (Kostakis and Papachristou 2014, 435).

To summarize, makers aim to organize a shared vision of a commons-based community by making it more productive through 3D printing: the use of the 3D printer is intended to create peer-to-peer networks, as well as spaces for cooperation and exchange. Those environments, which are regarded as utopian playgrounds for best practice and trial-and-error experiments, help project possible futures and make visions (literally) tangible.

…and Their Sociotechnical Motives

Decentralized Organization: Who Owns It?

The 3D printer in the “living room” was a new sociotechnical paradigm for users when the “liberatory technology” was first introduced in 2009 (Resch, Southwick, and Ratto 2018, 106). It promised the possibility of being able to print consumer goods at will.

According to Resch, Southwick, and Ratto (2018, 107), these new technical possibilities increased the desire to create new digital and material worlds. The users felt themselves responsible for doing justice to the many new possibilities that the 3D printer offered and to use them in the best possible way. For the growing techno-optimistic maker communities, the idea that ecological and social change is “also possible from the living room” was awakened.

Since then, several online platforms, such as Thingiverse, GitHub, and Instructables, have been set up to collaboratively manage, share, and comment on construction plans and print files. Events such as maker fairs, hackathons, and workshops have been held. Over time, FabLabs, makerspaces, and repair cafés have been established, and the vision of a decentrally organized collaboration assumed a more concrete shape.

The tension between decentralized organizations on a global scale and smaller production cycles on a local scale is answered by the maker movement’s frequently used motto “design globally, produce locally” (Kostakis and Papachristou 2014, 435). This phrase is rooted in the slogan “think globally, act locally” of the environmental movement of the 1970s and calls for a rethinking of the immediate, local situation without losing sight of the bigger picture.

Although the maker movement acts in a rather techno-optimistic way and has a very positive belief in innovation, it is looking for alternatives to globalized modernity. According to p2p (peer to peer) activist Troxler (2013), the development of “resistant, lateral infrastructures” could help bring back manufacturing activities that have been outsourced to Asia or the Global South as a result of globalization. In the future, this could even make conventional supply chains obsolete, according to utopian fantasy (Resch, Southwick, and Ratto 2018, 108; Stein 2017, 15).

The resumption of the environmental and degrowth debate since the early 2000s has been accompanied by the development of digital infrastructures. According to D’Alisa, Demaria, and Kallis (2015), the concept of degrowth is no longer limited to the threat of limited resources. Rather, the second phase criticizes the contradiction of a “hegemonic idea of sustainable development” (D’Alisa, Demaria, and Kallis 2015, 2). In fact, a decentralized organization requires a number of preconditions, such as access to facilities, basic skills in dealing with hardware and software, and technical and organizational standards.

Connectivity: Who is In and Who is Out?

In commons-based maker communities, the guiding principle of DIY is reformulated into a more joint “do-it-together” or “do-it-with-others” (Baier et al. 2016, 37). Again, the former slogan originated in the 1970s protest movements. It is now used in writings on making practices, here as an imperative to participate. Thus, “do-it-together” reveals a critique of capitalism that is directed against the practice of “trade” (Siefkes 2016, 69). Siefkes (2016, 65) comprehends trading as an exchange of goods that have been produced specifically for “saleability”² and, therefore, lose sight of a social awareness.

This is exactly where the 3D printer should take effect; however, this is less about the actual production of objects or consumer goods. Rather, it points to the symbolic potential “to return production to the hands of the people” (Stein 2017, 19). As a tool, the 3D printer should promote social participation and the exchange of knowledge. Along these lines, members of maker communities propose redesigning collaborative practices in which “trading” is replaced by “contributing” or “redistributing” (Siefkes 2016, 65). In this way, the values underlying trade and the community should be revisited and promote more sustainable consumer behavior (Hermans 2015, 7; Stein 2017, 6–15).

Thus, the redesign of social practices is an integral part of the commons-oriented maker scene. Making, growing, fixing, forking, waiting, repairing, recycling, and upcycling represent a vision that can direct the experience of production processes to a responsible use of resources (Stein 2017, 18).³ Therefore, connectivity refers not only to interpersonal exchange, but also to the awareness of interconnectivity with nonhuman resources.

Besides this, it is usually not mentioned that a large part of the results produced in 3D printing are misprints, superfluous “crappy objects,” or additional support material that must be removed. The surplus produced is accepted as a necessary evil of development (Keppner et al. 2018). Even the imagined independence from global supply chains to avoid shipping through conflict areas, long-distance truck journeys, or container ports is a rather distorted perception of the real economic conditions of 3D printing. Although 3D printing ultimately takes place locally, the raw materials for printing and workplace equipment continue to require the same logistical routes that are used in conventional industrial production. The problematic tension between the Global North and Global South is further strengthened. Thus, although resources and objects become part of the utopian connection, those less privileged or less skilled remain outside.

Openness: Who Takes Care?

The third shared sociotechnical motive that is key in understanding a commons-based imaginary is the principle of openness. The attitude found in the postcapitalist peer production of maker communities fundamentally differs from conventional industrial production. According to Acksel et al., “The products not only look different, they are usually modular, accessible, documented, repairable, durable, resource-saving.” In this way, they would become “design principles from the very beginning of development” (Acksel et al. 2015, 143).

The making process does not follow a linear planning structure or pursues a concretely defined outcome. Rather, it is characterized as open to processes and results. An ideal open design process would work like this: starting from an initial idea, designs develop over time, here through the contribution of “prosumers.”⁴

To underpin the self-regulating quality of openness, reference is often made to the RepRap project (Bonvoisin 2016, 8; Stein 2017, 15; Richardson 2016, 8; Balka 2011, 68; Kostakis and Papachristou 2014, 2; Baier et al. 2016, 67; Gershenfeld 2012, 45; Jordan 2018; Gasparotto 2019). In particular, the studies on maker movements and peer production published between 2009 and 2014 celebrate RepRap as a pioneer of open design. As of December 10, 2021, the RepRap online wiki lists 72 variants (Figure 2). The first RepRap model (version 1.0), which its inventor Adrian Bowyer called Darwin and which he put online under a GNU General Public License, was often copied. Additional variants were developed by the members of the rapidly growing community. All these variants are built on the construction principles of the original device. Some further developments, such as the three-axis delta printer, cannot be linked visually to their origin anymore. Although it is fascinating to observe this genesis, it seems problematic to surrender community building to technocratic – or even Darwinist – principles.

Figure 2 Screenshot from the RepRap wiki demonstrating the different versions of the RepRap 3D printer. December 2021, by the author. https://reprap.org/wiki/RepRap_Options.

Many approaches of the maker movement, such as the “open source ecology,” are considered to have a similar vision of a self-regulated process. However, to date, a comparable autogenous, self-regulated process cannot be observed in any other project. The fact that no pioneering projects are known to have been reproduced and further developed in conjunction with the RepRap printer suggests that it is less about printing than it is about the ability to print.

Discussion

The 3D Printer, a Weak Desire Machine

In the previous section, the commons-based maker’s imaginary and sociotechnical motives were outlined. The outlining of the utopian expectations was guided by questions on how the 3D printer might organize such a future and what values it implies. As we’ve seen, motives cannot be sharply separated from one another. Rather, they serve as visual axes through the rich and diverse material of the discourse, allowing us to discuss the several aspects of a commons-based imaginary. In addition to the affirmative aspects, each motive also includes an ambivalent tension. This already indicates a problematic relation between an envisioned utopian future and that future’s perceived complexity, which becomes visible in the following discussion on the role of the 3D printer.

The motives that I have unfolded in the previous section are not “new ideas” that have only emerged from current global challenges. Instead, they are rooted in the social imaginations previously formulated in the protest movements of the 1970s or even in the reform movements at the fin-de-siècle. However, their mottos and slogans, anchored in political activism or isolated communities, have been updated according to late-modern circumstances. Through 3D printing and the worldwide web, the ideas of a decentralized organization, connectivity, and openness now seem to be feasible and can become a new actuality. It seems no longer a matter of creating a parallel society. Rather, the movement expects to significantly influence the existing global economy and infiltrate hierarchical systems. The movement members feel encouraged to reconfigure the future social, political, and economic mechanisms (Hermans 2015, 115; Stein 2017, 18; Baier, Müller, and Werner 2013, 86; Troxler 2013, 1; Jordan 2018; D’Alisa, Demaria, and Kallis 2015, 3–12). From this, makers want to promote an awareness for a paradigm shift that is directly experienced by the aggregation of crises.

The 3D printer often serves as an entry into the worlds of the maker movement. It is part of the basic equipment of FabLabs and makerspaces and is often the first purchase around which a local community is formed. It seems as if the differences in the personal backgrounds or motivations of the members no longer matter because the 3D printer does not require a consensus of values or homogeneity to enable collaboration. Both its meaning and use may vary depending on the user. Such “interpretative flexibility” (Star 2017, 213) makes it possible that, in addition to the more popular boys-with-toys culture, feminist maker and hacker spaces or eco-activist initiatives can take possession of the technological possibilities of the 3D printer. Therein, the future can be treated as a design problem that could be collectively discussed, iterated, prototyped, or even rejected. Even though CNC mills or laser cutters are more frequently used in makerspaces, 3D printers serve as a way to (literally) open doors because of their weak structure and conceptual openness (Star 2017, 225). By highlighting the wide range of potential applications and use cases, it becomes obvious that the reductionist quality of the 3D printer can be easily disregarded.

In addition, and within maker communities, the social exchange of experiences and knowledge seems more important than printing itself. It can be assumed that a useful function is not the decisive criterion. Just like the many versions themselves, the objects created do not have to be useful to serve as a basis for discussion, as Star (2017, 220) points out regarding the characteristics of the “boundary object.” She describes the boundary object as a “complex of work arrangements” through which “practices are structured and language is created so that things can be done” (Star 2017, 214). This is not limited to a mere technical object, and its concrete use is not defined. The ability to print promises common activities, shared values, and the cocreation of alternatives. Thus, the 3D printer serves as a desire machine to examine the principles of open source, p2p production, social participation, and the democratization of knowledge. Nevertheless, the visions are speculative, and there is little experience of their actual implementation.

This potential could be observed, in particular, at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic. 3D printed door openers were made to help avoid contact; they were more of an encouragement, satisfying peoples’ need to participate while not being exposed to the virus, but they were hardly the solution. Based on the productive understanding of the 3D printer as a weak desire machine, a tangible negotiation process is a central aim. Thus, instead of fixating on an end result, a process is sought in which abstract concepts materialize into very concrete artifacts.

Therefore, the essential quality of the 3D printer lies in its “interpretative flexibility.” This allows many people to participate in a common negotiation of possible futures. However, 3D printing is perceived by those in the maker movement as a shortcut to a “better future.” The 3D printer as a “desire machine” tends to reduce the complexity and ambiguity of togetherness. The utopian promise of the 3D printer even tends to promote, here in the tradition of utopian narratives, an ideal but totalitarian social order. In fact, aiming for a common good, such a vision of the future, could overlook social differences and, in the technical sense of a network, include only those who are connected.

Conclusion

Plural Futures, Shared Anxiety

The current article has considered how a commons-based future is shaped through and facilitated by 3D printing. It also addressed the extent to which maker communities are responding to the global challenges of modernity and what ambivalent, sociotechnical tensions are carried within their utopian visions.

First, I outlined the maker’s discourse on a commons-based future and discussed the shared imaginary that unfolds between maker communities and the promising possibilities of the 3D printer. Within this sociotechnical entanglement, I identified three basic motives: (a) decentralized organization, (b) connectivity, and (c) openness. Each bears an ambivalent relationship between the social and technology. In the second part of the discussion, I focused on the 3D printer as a sociotechnical device, discussing its distinct role within the maker movement. In the “making of futures,” the 3D printer takes agency beyond its operational qualities. As a “weak desire machine,”⁵ the 3D printer is supposed to change the processes and ways of thinking and help codesign spaces of possibility. Thus, in addition to its material properties as a technical device, it also has an organizational structure with its own agency (Jasanoff 2015, 128). At the same time, however, the 3D printer fosters the tendency to simplify and reduce social complexity. Sociotechnical tension must be regarded within a broader context.

The future vision being developed within the maker community is of a society beyond economic growth. In principle, the vision is united by a common concept: a society in which knowledge is shared globally and is organized in decentralized, peer-to-peer networks that enable local production, here according to the demands and needs of local conditions. This vision of a commons-based utopia ties in with the great utopias of the twentieth century – such as those embodied in the 1940s geodesic dome of Buckminster Fuller as a symbol of democracy and self-empowerment, in the egalitarian “universal town” Auroville (founded in 1968), or in the eco-socialist writing on waste of William Morris (1890) – whose motives the utopian vision embraces and tries to update. However, in contrast to the tradition of utopian narratives, especially those in Western literature until the mid-twentieth century, there is no single totalitarian social order. The desired “common good” that is located in the imaginaries of a commons-based future is based on diverse, sometimes contradictory, understandings and a wide range of prototypes. Often, 3D-printed objects can only be considered in a common larger context at second glance because of their simple, toy-like appearance.

The visions of a degrowth society do not materialize in a uniform picture or in the selection of iconic consumer goods. Rather, various desires are manifested in an ephemeral mass of heterogeneous prototypes. They are open-ended experiments. They embody a permanent ideation phase, whereby the constant process of negotiation is not terminated but remains in an enduring state.⁶

In contrast to the universal utopias of classical modernity, the imaginary formulated here rejects a linear causality. Because of the weak structure of the 3D printer, different and sometimes contradictory attitudes can be negotiated. Thus, a variety of interests and futures can stand side-by-side.

Although the postcapitalist, degrowth, commons-based future cannot be printed – and as has already been made clear, this is not its objective – the desire for a commons-based future accumulates a rich and diverse set of infrastructures, practices, and values. The extent to which this is a conscious and critical inquiry into the images of the future of classical modernity – or whether only other images are being produced – must be examined.⁷

Nonetheless, one thing that remains and unites diverse positions is the attempt to recursively bring the future into the present. To make possible futures tangible in concrete artifacts is an attempt to face uncertainty. For every possible catastrophe, even before it has occurred, a solution should be ready. Besides the experimental and somewhat innocent trial-and-error mentality, the prototypes also embody an emotional quality and anxious attitude toward the future. Exploring possible solutions and searching for easy answers are all driven by an anxiety of uncertainty.

The considerations in the current article are based on an analysis of different voices from the discourse about 3D printing in the maker environment. These are primarily written views, which are often strongly subjective. It is difficult to assess the extent to which these voices idealize their own practices and experiences or undermine the potential and possibilities of 3D printing. Moreover, the claim for urgent socioecological change and desire for alternative life models in and through making has spread far beyond the boundaries of institutionalized makerspaces. An empirical investigation in the field could shed light on how to loosen the fixed focus on the familiar formats of makerspaces and 3D printing. It could also determine how to not rely solely on self-descriptions from the scene, what the negotiation of futures looks like outside of the established makerspaces, how prototyping might affect community building, and, in a larger attempt, how transformation is actually practiced by means of making.

Acknowledgments

This paper is the result of a continuous, iterative process. I thank the editors and anonymous reviewers of Design & Culture for their excellent discussions and critiques of this article. Furthermore, I would like to acknowledge the intense exchange with Moritz Greiner-Petter and Johannes Bruder and also thank my Ph.D. supervisors, Timon Beyes, Claudia Mareis and Wolfgang Jonas, for their input.

Disclosure Statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.

Additional information

Funding

This work was supported by the Swiss National Science Foundation (SNSF) under Grant No. 179178.

Notes on contributors

Merle Kathleen Ibach

Merle Ibach is a Junior Researcher at the FHNW Academy of Arts and Design Basel and a Ph.D. candidate at the Leuphana University, Lüneburg. As a design researcher she works on the intersection of design anthropology, cultural sociology, and eco-social activism. Her current research focuses on eco-social maker communities and explores how commons-based futures are negotiated in and through DIY making. [email protected]

Notes

1 In addition to the publications mentioned here, which mainly represent a techno-positivist perspective on the potentials of the 3D printer, it is important to point out that there is also a more critical position towards making activities and the visions that come from maker cultures. A rich discussion on this can be found in the field of human–computer interaction (HCI). In particular, I would like to refer to the panel “Making Cultures: Empowerment, Participation, and Democracy – or Not?” (Ames et al. 2014) at the Conference on Human Factors in Computing Systems (2014). This current article, however, focuses more on situating the 3D printer within a commons-based imaginary.

2 According to Siefkes (2016), peer production would put the focus back on what was actually needed and its success, because economic competition would no longer be the main focus.

3 In this respect, the 3D printer fulfils two needs. First, it facilitates loss-free and resource-saving production (Manyika et al. 2013). Second, it saves energy through reduced logistics (Kostakis et al. 2018), thus decreasing the impact on the environment (Baier et al. 2016; Manyika et al. 2013). Because of the additive material structure, in theory, it is possible to produce “without material loss” (Baier et al. 2013, 86). Emphasis is also placed on the extended possibilities of sustainable printing materials, such as the use of recyclable plastics or natural raw materials. However, it is usually not mentioned that their recycling properties are not yet fully developed (Keppner 2018).

4 Makers envision a dynamic design process that follows “natural laws” rather than rational-strategic ones. However, according to Gasparotto (2019, 23), in many cases, development can stagnate. The same product is constantly reproduced but without any change or improvement. Gasparotto (2019, 24) notes that this could be because of the physical nature of the objects and their materiality, which is far more complicated to engage with than digital code. In addition, she sees a lack of an established and standardized common language.

5 According to Deleuze and Guattari (1983), the production of desire could be understood as a supra-individual practice that takes place in the structure of the community, makerspaces, virtual platforms, subjective desires, and collective vision of a commons-based coexistence beyond economic growth. See “desire machine” in Deleuze and Guattari (1983).

6 For the prototypes of the future egalitarian society, form seems to have secondary importance. Although 3D-printed objects have a unique character, the aesthetic shaping of the artifact – and even the object itself – does not really seem to matter. The form is opposed by a continuous process that is intended to bring about a transformation of social, economic, and material structures. As boundary objects, the prototypes pool resources and power to negotiate the underlying practices, infrastructures, and production conditions, and initiate them.

7 However, by shifting the focus away from the designed product toward the creation of a collective future, utopian thinking does not lead to “new aesthetic conditions,” which Geiger (2018, 84) sees as being necessary for a counterculture of design that is critical of the system. It is true that concrete and tangible situations are created beyond global and abstract theories, as required by making and as seen in the connection parts or makerspaces. Still, the envisioned future attempts to criticize the existing conditions within its own techno-modern paradigm, but to do so without formulating an actual counter-proposal.