My woodland friend Ed sent me a long email about his thoughts on political freedom. Forget black bloc activism and climate camps, he said, freedom for him is embracing the fact that those forms of protest are hopelessly weak and will never make the structural changes needed to stop corporate and state abuse of nature. Yes! We're not teenagers any more! So, he says: embrace the fact that things will probably get a lot worse before they get better, and live humbly with and in nature, enjoying the simple pleasures that a primitive life has to offer.

I sympathise with his position, but I'm not going to the woods just yet. Ed condemns cities as inherently unsustainable; as essentially incompatible with a harmonious relationship with the earth. But as James Lovelock has been saying of late, sustainability is a slightly ahistorical concept – the history of the earth is full of species who bring disruptive and destructive changes, few more so than the appearance of plants producing oxygen. Ed utilises primitive forms of technology to build shelters, trap birds and gather wild vegetables; he is close to nature, nature thought of as another, as it exists today. His transformation of the other is simply smaller, and available only to the small population it could support. We may yet contribute to a different kind of "planetary welfare" (as Lovelock puts it) with more urbanism than Ed would like.

The important thing about Ed's journey, which I really admire, is that he has put himself in resolute opposition to the norms of industrialised society and (as of the moment) found himself in tune with a most basic form of government.

To live deliberately, to front the essential facts of life; so ventured Thoreau into his Walden woods. To test and find those forms of social and political organisation, those pursuits, that are most conducive to our nature. The town Thoreau returned to, deliberately, was no less harmonius with nature than his pond in the woods. I don't know that I have found this freedom in my own life - I still struggle to embrace passivity and resolve anxiety - but I know I need more than a primitive woodland circle to be free.

Aren't religious people the most lovely, effective activists? I'm not a religious person, nor a fan of the darker side of organised religion, but I wonder how secular communities can capture two of the best things about moderate, liberal religious communities: their culture of learning, considering and discussing "everyday ethics" through stories, and their strength when they come together as movements for social justice.

Faith in myths and folklore can hold us back from questioning and dismissing cherished beliefs. At worst they ingrain dogma through a repressive social structure. But there's something wonderful about using stories to reflect on humane values like kindness and reciprocity, and encouraging each other to allow these values to flourish through our actions. It's one thing I love about Taoist poetry. I'm not holding out much hope for a Just world but more goodness would be, well, good!

Religious political movements don't have a very good name - from the Crusades and Islamism to hatred of free expression, they're not often perceived to be on the side of liberal values and social justice! But Barack Obama's capacity to inspire, and London Citizens' effective campaign against working poverty, both share something important. They are rooted in coalitions full of religious communities inspired by the optimism of faith. Their collective action is so effective both because they are strategic and practical in their community organising, and because they build up strong social networks based on those humane values of reciprocity and concern for others. They're also loads of fun!

No secular recipes offered, just food for thought.

The panel I helped organise on the philosophy of the commons at iCommons' annual iSummit in Dubrovnik went down really well. It got some nice writeups on the iCommons web site (one, two, three) and spurred lots more discussions throughout the event. In fact it was so much fun, and got so many people talking from the audience, that David Berry and I are thinking of editing a collected volume of articles on the subject! It has also really made me want to go and do a PhD again, though I've no idea where I might do it, nor whether I'd look at this sort of stuff or focus on more practical green political issues.

As usual, the best bits of the summit were in between scheduled panels, talking mainly with people from openDemocracy, academics, activists and some of the really great artists (I had the pleasure of finally chatting with Joy Garnett). By the time our panel came around my brain was completely thrown so my talk was a bit impromptu. Given that this confusion remains, here are some sketchy thoughts on where I'd like to take my chapter, where I want to focus my thoughts.

First, I've been trying to translate the typical discourse of free culture into one that makes more sense. In my talk I spoke a bit about the way in which the free culture movement has inherited the free software movement's tendency to label things as "free" and "non-free" without thinking through the arguments that made Stallman & co. arrive at those terms. As Andrew Rens pointed out, it's particularly sick to tell a South African, whose country went through a painful 50-year struggle against apartheid, that they have the wrong meaning of "free"! I find it completely nonsensical to say "that piece of art isn't free". So here are some translations:

• free culture -> free cultural practice
• free content -> free relations with cultural artefacts
• digital commons -> a commons of cultural activity; spaces in which cultural activity unfolds freely, in which self-realisation is possible / facilitates / encouraged / etc.
• enclosure of the digital commons -> enclosure of domains of cultural practice

Second, I want to synthesise various strands of work that I've done over the years to better reflect this new discourse: my MA dissertation on a Lockean argument for free culture; my undergraduate dissertation on the hacker ethic, alienation and meaningful work; my recent short writings about Lessig's shifting CC ideology and real cultural freedom. Lots of thinking to be done in spare moments!

I've organised a session at the annual iCommons summit, this year being held in the lovely Dubrovnik, Croatia. The panel and audience will debate the philosophy of the commons; here's the blurb: "What do we mean by ‘free culture’? Is it just a reaction against copyright, or a broader positive movement for the arts? Should we take our inspiration from the free software movement, and if not what philosophical and tactical differences should we account for? Debate over the Creative Commons non-commercial licenses, and the diversity of approaches on show at the iSummit, suggest we have plenty of disagreements to resolve or reinforce!" With the session I hope to stimulate some critical thinking about the commons, and some reflection on what we are working to build, promote or attack.

The argument I will present is based upon my MA Philosophy dissertation and a few years of "in the trenches" work with free culture projects like Remix Reading and Free Culture UK. It's also something I'm currently working up into a book, which I'll finish if I can find a publisher interested in it. My main aim is to sound a note of caution for those working on definitions like Freedom Defined and the Open Knowledge Foundation. Read on for a synopsis of my argument...

Various events and bits of work have got me thinking about complexity. Why do we often love the details when they're least helpful, then seek out simple answers when comprehensiveness is most needed?

Two quick examples.

Free software is generally available free of charge, a nice side benefit of the low costs of distribution combined with the freedom to share copies. Even at the launch of the National Open Centre, talking to people in good positions to understand the complexity of decisions regarding IT infrastructures, I hear arguments like "free software has a lower TCO because there aren't licensing costs". Those savings can be significant, but no responsible person or organisation is going to base their decision on such a factor, especially in smaller organisations where it becomes relatively minor. Free software advocates are best off talking about freedom -- how the free licensing puts you in control of your systems, how it frees you from vendor and format lock-in, and how you can work with and participate in the communities to meet your needs rather than waiting for the next release cycle to come round.

This big idea, this framework, sets the conditions for a healthy market that is in equal parts competitive and cooperative, and delivers the specific details that are attractive to people. It often means lower costs, more flexibility and better technology.

Another example - I've been working recently on BioRegional's response to the Building greener homes consultation. To tackle the ecological footprint of new homes we need to look at their place in the regional and national ecological context. How do they relate to existing housing stock that can be retrofitted, and to commercial and other building stock? How can planning and building regulations go beyond the building fabric to address lifestyle issues such as personal transport, thereby amplifying the effect of building fabric improvements? These details are lost because the government has succumbed to worthy but narrow-sighted lobbying from certain green groups in favour of decentralised energy. So the consultation exalts on-site energy generation, and suggests we deal with energy use in new homes in isolation.

A big idea - regional and national ecological footprint strategies - could provide the framework to tackle the carbon footprint of new homes most effectively. For example, if on-site energy generation isn't feasible, then the planning department should look to fit its energy needs within the local/regional energy strategy, rather than forcing developers into the "all or nothing" game that the consultation could lead to.

Both cases make me think that people are really quite good at adopting the right solutions when the questions are framed correctly. Get the big picture right, with all the detailed analysis and synthesis required, then design markets and through smart regulations. The rest will follow, as competitive and cooperative approaches emerge organically.

Radical libertarians would have us believe that a completely unfettered market can deliver solutions, which is of course complete hogwash, any applied economist will tell you as much. Mainstream politicians love to tout technology as the saviour to our problems without any real evidence, whilst some deep greens fail to account for its potential. At the Reith Lecture tonight Jeffrey Sachs talked a great deal about technology delivering solutions to climate change that would cost less than 1% of the global economy -- hardly realistic! We are stuck with politicians, academics, NGOs and all the rest advocating details in absence of a framework, complexity without coherence.

Aaron and Adrian have kicked off an interesting discussion about value on Planet KDE. Having an MA in philosophy, I thought I'd follow up on Adrian's quandary, that both Aaron and Andrew Cowie are right about value in software.

To begin with, a very simple answer to the quandary is that they are discussing different conceptions of value. Andrew Cowie is interested in the exchange value of his code, which is a feature of market economies and dominates the developed world in late capitalism. Aaron is more interested in use value, which preoccupies many Marxian, anarchist and liberal thinkers who reject the supremacy of the market. An object can have both exchange and use value, as well as other kinds of value, and sometimes those considerations coincide. So, for example, useful software is more likely to sell than useless software.

The problem is that life is never as simple as many free market economists would have us believe. There is a connection between exchange and use value, but it's not a direct correlation. To begin with, both the creator, passive users and fellow programmers will have different ways of judging the use value of the software. The KDE4 snapshots are of no use to me, but of significant use to Aaron and Adrian. But the dynamics of free software communities mean that the snapshots probably don't have much exchange value for Aaron or Adrian - that is they wouldn't pay for it - and neither would minor bug fixes, even if they have considerable use value.

Things are further complicated by the fact that, especially in free software communities, we are interested in political and moral considerations, not just economic or technical.

Thomas Scanlon developed an interesting theory of value, saying that it is underpinned by reasons (for philosophers, normative considerations are prior to the domain of intrinsic value). Scanlon defines a reason as "a consideration that counts in favour of some attitude or action" (other philosophers might lend more weight to moral considerations, e.g. John Broome says that a perfect reason is "an explanation of why you ought to" do something). We can then argue that things or actions have value because we have good reasons for them. This may sound pretty obvious, but it rejects a common belief that things may be inherently valuable.

Bastardising his work, then, we can say simply that Aaron and Andrew have different reasons that count in favour of sharing or witholding code. They aren't just different in the sense of different business models, but also in that Aaron brings in wider ethical, political and technical values, themselves based on a complex and (one would hope coherent) set of reasons.

A common challenge for free software advocates is in ensuring that exchange value coincides with our ethical, political and technical values. That is, can we still put food on plates and roofs over heads whilst sharing and developing code in open communities?

Further reading: Reasons, values and agent-relativity, by R. Jay Wallace.

In a slightly silly New Statesman article, Edward Skidelsky writes: "Environmentalism is, in truth, a conservative ideology. The passion that animates it is one of return, not progress. Its current association with the political left is mere window dressing". Is the trendy neologism - that the Greens are the new home of true-blue conservatives - correct? Not at all, to think so is to completely misunderstand Green political philosophy.

Bertrand Russell once wrote a 5,000 word essay in praise of idleness, but I don't have the time to match his dedication to the lazy. In between postgraduate study, political activism, community projects and a modicum of social life the closest I usually come is gardening or neighbours.

Yet Russell's tract fascinates me, the slow food movement invades my dreams, my Taoist inclinations tut at my hectic striving. So I present here my own ode to idleness, a reflection on my own pursuit of passivity.

I attended an interesting seminar at the Oxford Internet Institute today given by David Weinberger, a Fellow at the Harvard Berkman Center. He spoke about the "new" shape of knowledge in the digitised world, where it is able to escape the organisational restrictions previously imposed by our physical world. Whilst his talk was interesting, particularly in the way he drew trendy technological developments around some basic philosophical questions about knowledge, it was a bit evangelical for my taste. It reminded me of a previous, somewhat anecdotal blog entry I wrote on the value of blogs. So what follows are some reflections, worries and criticisms from his talk.

Software is a tool, a compilation of code that directs computer hardware, a program that empowers people to work more productively. Before Richard Stallman founded the GNU Project, many outside of hacker communities would have reasonably asked: why on earth is the ethics of software distribution philosophically interesting?