Tag: digital minimalism

  • Smart Enough

    It is raining in Paisley again. A grey, steady drizzle that seems to have set in for the winter.

    I checked the time a moment ago. 7:34 pm.

    I didn’t check it on a screen. I didn’t have to wake a device up, or swipe past a notification about a breaking news story, or see an email I didn’t want to deal with. I just looked at my wrist.

    It was my Casio F-91W.

    I’ve written about this watch before. It costs thirteen quid from Argos. It looks exactly the same as it did in 1991. It tells the time, lights up (badly) if you press a button, and has a stopwatch I rarely use. That is it.

    Lately, though, I have started to see this little piece of resin and plastic as something more than just a retro accessory. I see it as a political statement.

    The Trap of the Upgrade

    We live in an economy built on dissatisfaction. The entire tech industry is designed to make us feel that what we have is old, slow, or broken.

    Batteries are glued in so we can’t replace them. Software updates slow down perfectly good hardware. We are nudged, gently but constantly, to throw away the old and buy the new.

    The environmental cost of this is staggering. The rare earth minerals dug out of the ground, the energy used in manufacturing, the shipping, and finally the e-waste pile where our “old” gadgets go to die after two years.

    It is a cycle of churn that is burning the planet.

    Durability as Defiance

    A close-up of a Casio F-91W digital watch on a wrist, fitted with a black fabric strap. The LCD display reads "TH 27" and the time is 19:34. In the background, a laptop keyboard and wireless mouse sit on a wooden desk.
    “Smart Enough” by Douglas Ireland is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0.

    This is where the Casio comes in.

    The battery in this watch will last seven years. Maybe ten. When it runs out, I can unscrew the back and put a new one in for pennies. It is not designed to be thrown away. It is designed to work.

    Wearing it feels like a small act of resistance.

    It is a rejection of the idea that everything needs to be “smart.” I don’t need my watch to track my heart rate or tell me the weather or sell me things. I just need it to tell me when it is time to put the tea on.

    There is a concept in Green politics called the Right to Repair. It is the idea that we should legally require companies to make things that last and things we can fix ourselves. It is a massive, necessary shift in how we handle resources.

    But we don’t have to wait for legislation to start living it.

    Enough is Enough

    Choosing “dumb” tech is a way of saying enough.

    Enough noise. Enough tracking. Enough waste.

    It is about finding satisfaction in utility rather than novelty. It is about respecting the materials things are made of, rather than treating them as disposable.

    So yes, it is just a cheap watch. But on a rainy evening in Scotland, with the world trying to sell me everything I don’t need, it feels like the most valuable thing I own.

  • Why I’m Using Bluesky (Yes, I’m Still Blogging Too)

    For a few years now I’ve leaned into the idea of using my own site, writing slowly, valuing analog habits, stepping back from the endless scroll. Blogging felt like a quiet resistance to the noise of “platform social media”. So when I say I’m now using Bluesky, it might sound like a contradiction. But for me it isn’t. Here’s why.

    Ownership & Control

    I blog because I want control over what I say, when I say it, and how it is archived. Relying on platforms where rules shift, algorithms change, and data disappears makes me uneasy.

    Bluesky is built on an open protocol (the AT Protocol) which means it’s designed with data portability, user agency, and less corporate lock-in in mind. (Decrypt)
    In other words: if I decide Bluesky isn’t for me, I won’t lose everything I built. That fits with how I try to live: make low-regret choices, keep options open.

    Bluesky logo.svg
    Image: Bluesky logo, public domain via Wikimedia Commons.

    Quiet in the Noise

    I’ve written about resisting modern pressures, choosing slow movement, real life over performance. A social feed that feels frantic, algorithmically driven, purely growth-oriented is the opposite of that.

    Bluesky offers a different vibe: transparency about algorithms, ability to pick or customise feeds rather than being forced into a “for you” feed that is opaque. (Rival IQ)
    This means I can dip in, say something, connect with people without feeling like I’m on a hamster wheel of engagement, likes, and noise.

    Community, Not Consumption

    I believe in small acts of defiance: keeping a capsule wardrobe, being intentional about my media, using the tools but not being used by them. Bluesky, for me, feels more like a place where that is possible.

    There’s a sense of early-stage community, of people who are there by choice, not because they got sucked in by algorithmic loops. Some early analysis shows the platform has higher levels of original content and less resharing or viral churn than many alternatives. (arXiv)
    That quieter, more intentional energy is something I’ve been missing elsewhere online.

    A Bridge, Not a Full Shift

    Using Bluesky doesn’t mean I’m giving up my blog. Far from it. I still want long-form, considered writing, a place I can archive my thoughts, reflect on slow change, recovery, the everyday in a way that social media rarely allows.

    But I’m also okay saying: yes, I will use a social platform. Because I believe we can use tools in ways aligned with our values, rather than be wholly subject to them.
    If used thoughtfully, Bluesky becomes a space for connection, not consumption.

    If You’d Like to Connect

    If you’re on Bluesky too, you’ll find me at @douglasireland.com.
    Feel free to follow, say hi, or simply observe how this plays out. No pressure, no algorithmic rabbit hole.

    I’m using Bluesky because it aligns with many of the things I’ve been saying here, small acts of intention, resisting the noise, owning my presence.
    And yes, I’m still blogging. Because some things are worth doing in their own time, on their own terms.