Introduction: The Garden as a Place of Vocation
Protopia Garden takes its name and conceptual structure not by chance. The metaphor of the garden, permeating the entire architecture of the project—from the dual-circuit system to cluster “plots”—reflects a deep philosophical understanding of what human vocation is in an era of technological concentration and political uncertainty. Two texts that form the foundation of the project’s concept—”Gardens: An Essay on the Human Condition” by Robert Pogue Harrison and “The Garden Against Time: In Search of a Common Paradise” by Olivia Lang—offer not merely beautiful images, but fundamental frameworks for thinking about how to build sustainable infrastructure for social innovation in the 21st century.
Protopia as a Rejection of Utopia and Dystopia
The term “protopia,” introduced by Kevin Kelly and developed in the context of technology studies, denotes not an ideal state of society (like utopia), but directed, gradual improvement through small but significant changes. Protopia Garden is built precisely on this logic: we do not promise “paradise on earth” through decentralized technologies, but we offer an institutional structure that allows civil society to preserve sovereignty and access to resources even under conditions of political pressure and technological concentration.
Here arises the first connection with Harrison’s philosophy. In his analysis of Eden, the key point is understanding that expulsion from paradise was not a punishment, but a necessary condition for the emergence of human culture. In Eden, where “everything was there for him,” Adam was relieved of cares but incapable of devotion. Only outside paradise, where the environment required daily labor, did the possibility arise for “the gardener’s self-extension into care”—the foundation on which human culture and identity are built.
Protopia Garden follows this logic not through a promise of “easy paradise,” where technologies solve all problems automatically, but through creating a structure that requires constant care, cultivation, and responsibility. We do not build a system where “everything is given”; we build a system where access to resources requires participation, governance, and ethical choice. This is not a utopian project freed from labor, but a protopian one—requiring constant work on maintenance and improvement.
The Vocation of Care and Technological Sovereignty
Harrison’s central idea—the “Vocation of Care”—finds direct reflection in Protopia Garden’s architecture. Harrison asserts that the garden brings order not to nature, but to “our relationship to nature.” This means that gardening is not merely a technical activity, but an ethical and existential imperative that requires patience, wisdom, and long-term vision.
In the context of Protopia Garden, this manifests in the fact that the project does not merely “distribute” computational resources, but creates an institutional structure that requires active participation from all participants—from donors to beneficiaries—in cultivating the common resource. The dual-circuit model (Circuit A and Circuit B) is not merely a technical separation, but an expression of the fact that different forms of care require different institutional conditions. The “white” circuit is needed for legality and transparency; the “free” circuit—for protecting vulnerable communities. But both circuits feed the same “plots”—clusters of NGOs and civil initiatives.
This structure opposes the modern tendency that Harrison calls the “gardenless age”: an era when, despite the abundance of technologies, we lose the ability to “see” the garden in all its metaphysical significance. The modern pursuit of “paradise on earth” through consumption and consuming fruit without producing it leads to a paradox: “Our action brings forth fruit less than it consumes it.” Protopia Garden reverses this logic: we do not merely consume AI computation as a ready product; we cultivate access to it through long-term infrastructure that requires care and responsibility.
Garden Time Against Capitalism’s Summer
Olivia Lang introduces the concept of “Garden Time”—a cyclical, nonlinear chronology that opposes the linear, predatory time of capitalism. Garden time moves as a “long unfolding spiral of decay and fertility,” where death and decay are integral parts of the life cycle. This time requires “recognition that one of its recurring stations is death.”
Lang contrasts this with “capitalism’s summer”—an ideology that demands constant, unnatural growth and consumption, forcing the land to sustain an “impossible summer.” Accepting cycles of decay becomes for her a political act of resistance to the capitalist ideology of infinite linear progress.
Protopia Garden embodies this logic at the institutional level. The project is designed as “infrastructure for 10–100 years,” accounting for changes in technological paradigms and political cycles. This is not an attempt to create an “eternal summer” of technological abundance, but a recognition that sustainability requires accepting cycles of growth, decline, and renewal. The cluster structure allows the system to adapt: some clusters may fade, others may emerge, but the overall infrastructure remains.
Moreover, utility endowment (compute credits) instead of monetary capital is also an expression of garden time logic. We do not accumulate abstract financial capital that can depreciate or be frozen; we create a reserve of real utility (computational resources) that cyclically renews through connecting new capacity and spending existing resources. This is not an “eternal summer” of consumption, but a constant cycle of cultivation and use.
Common Paradise Against Private Eden
Lang’s key search is not for creating a closed “private Eden,” but for finding a “common paradise”—an inclusive space accessible to all. This requires rejecting the historical model of gardens of power, which were built on “displacement and marginalization of indigenous populations” and financed through the “cost and horrors of empire.” Lang categorically rejects the notion of the garden as a place where one can “hide from the world”; instead, she insists that these spaces are “inherently politicized and deeply emotional.”
Protopia Garden follows this logic through cluster architecture and the dual-circuit model. We do not create a single, monolithic “fund” that decides who is worthy of receiving support and who is not. Instead, we build a “digital garden”: a set of “plots”/clusters, each of which can have its own rules, its own limitations, its own donor community, but all drawing from a common source of value generation and a common distribution mechanism.
This allows the system to be simultaneously open (any cluster can join through procedure) and protected (sensitive clusters can operate in “invisible” mode, without revealing beneficiary details). We do not exclude “destructive elements”—weeds, external events, consequences of the climate crisis; we integrate them into the structure, recognizing that true common paradise must be ready to bear the weight of its history and inevitable future shocks.
Integration of Destruction and Ecological Realism
Lang finds solace in life’s capacity for regeneration even after destruction. She cites examples: the flourishing of weeds after the Great Fire of London, the appearance of “regenerating plants” in ruins after the Blitz. These wild plants symbolize uncontrolled but resilient life that “pushes back” against human intervention. Accepting these elements forced Lang to abandon the idea of a “pure Eden” and include weeds and cycles of decay in her own gardening process.
In the context of Protopia Garden, this manifests in the fact that we do not try to create an “ideal” system, free from political risks, technical failures, or institutional conflicts. Instead, we build a system that can survive and regenerate even under pressure. The dual-circuit model is a recognition that not all risks can be eliminated, but they can be separated and isolated. The cluster structure allows the system to adapt: if one cluster becomes toxic or vulnerable, it does not destroy the entire system.
Moreover, “cemetery policy” and offboarding mechanisms are also expressions of the logic of integrating destruction. We do not erase traces of problematic clusters; we archive their history, preserving the reputational stability of the entire system. This is not an attempt to create an “eternal garden,” but a recognition that sustainability requires the capacity to accept and integrate cycles of decline and renewal.
Radical Utopias and Rebellious Outposts
Lang turns to historical examples of gardens that functioned as spaces of social and political experiment. Derek Jarman’s garden on the desolate beach at Dungeness, created while he was dying of AIDS, became an “incredible queer utopia” and a “rebellious outpost,” where boundaries were ignored and gardening was conducted “playfully, stubbornly, ignoring boundaries, freely collaborating.” William Morris promoted a “fertile vision of common Eden,” linking aesthetics with socialist reform and insisting that beauty and the fruits of labor should be publicly accessible.
Protopia Garden draws inspiration from these examples but adapts them for the era of decentralized technologies. We do not build a physical garden, but we create an institutional structure that allows various communities—from Belarusian activists in exile to Ukrainian research groups—to create their “rebellious outposts” in digital space. Each cluster can be such an outpost: a place where a community experiments with forms of self-organization and access to resources.
At the same time, unlike Jarman’s individualistic resistance, Protopia Garden combines radical rejection of boundaries (through decentralized infrastructure) with a collectivist ethical vision (through a common platform and distribution rules). We do not merely provide tools to individual activists; we create common infrastructure that enhances civil society’s capacity for self-organization and mutual aid.
Garden-Tomb: Integration of Death into Life
Harrison explores how garden spaces reconcile humanity with its mortal condition. He pays special attention to the Christian archetype of the Tomb in the Garden: in the Gospel of John, Jesus was buried in a new, well-tended garden, not far from the place of crucifixion. This image sharply contrasts with the cruelty of death, offering instead a vision of rest, tranquility, and new beginning. Placing the tomb in the garden is a powerful cultural gesture that integrates death back into the cycle of life.
In the context of Protopia Garden, this manifests in the fact that we do not try to create a system free from risks and losses. We recognize that some clusters may fade, some initiatives may fail, some political regimes may make access to resources impossible. But we build a system that can survive these cycles of death and renewal. “Cemetery policy” and archiving histories are not merely technical functions, but expressions of the fact that we integrate the inevitability of decline and loss into the very structure of the system.
Moreover, the project’s long-term horizon (10–100 years) is also an expression of garden-tomb logic. We do not build a system for one generation; we create infrastructure that must survive generational change, technological paradigm shifts, and political cycles. This requires recognition that the current form of the system is not eternal, but that it can be passed on to subsequent generations in an updated form.
Protopia as Philosophy of Practice
Protopia Garden is not merely a technical project or financial innovation. It is a philosophical and sociological experiment that attempts to answer the question: how can we build sustainable institutions for civil society in an era of technological concentration and political uncertainty?
The philosophy of the garden, developed by Harrison and Lang, provides us with not merely a metaphor, but a fundamental framework for thinking about this. It reminds us that:
- Human vocation is care, not consumption. Protopia Garden requires active participation from all participants in cultivating the common resource, not merely passive receipt of benefit.
- Sustainability requires accepting cycles, not eternal growth. We do not build a system for an “eternal summer” of technological abundance; we create infrastructure that can survive cycles of growth, decline, and renewal.
- Common paradise requires inclusiveness, not exclusion. We do not create a closed Eden for the chosen; we build an open platform that allows various communities to create their “plots” in the common garden.
- Realism requires integrating destruction, not denying it. We do not try to create an “ideal” system; we build a structure that can survive and regenerate even under conditions of pressure and loss.
Protopia Garden is protopia, not utopia. We do not promise paradise on earth; we offer a direction of movement and tools for gradual improvement. Just as a gardener who knows that their garden will never be “complete” but continues to cultivate it, so Protopia Garden is not a final state, but a constant process of care, responsibility, and renewal. This is the philosophical foundation of the project: not a technical solution to problems, but an ethical imperative to create a structure that allows the human vocation of care to manifest even in the most adverse conditions.