Maintenance is essential, difficult, and—by its very nature—messy. We ignore the blinking light on the dashboard because brand-new things feel immortal, but everything eventually demands a tax. Whether it’s a machine, the national airspace, a relationship, or the planet itself, the entropy is coming for us all. Stewart Brand ’s newest project explores the "maintenance of everything," and it’s a masterclass in long-term thinking. After diving into book one, I’m struck by how much our survival depends on our willingness to embrace the "messy" work of repair. I think of Stewart Brand, if you have not run into his writings before, as an eclectic mind obsessed with long term systems thinking. The best you can sometimes say of writers you encounter is that they have sent you down rabbit holes to explore - Brand has supplied me with an ample number of rabbit holes.

I like to hold books in my hand. A book well done - well written, good design, good typeset - is a joy in and of itself. This book has that going for it, in full measure. The design of the book is a joy. The contents might not interest everyone but it fascinates me. It continues to expand on themes that Stewart has explored before - in How Buildings Learn, for example.

The book sets the stage for the discussion of maintenance with the divergent approaches taken by three of the competitors in the Golden Globe around-the-world sailboat race of 1968. Of the nine competitors, only one, Robin Knox-Johnston, finished the race. Bernard Moitessier who could have won the race, decided he did not want the publicity and kept on going, half way around the world again, to Tahiti 🤩 . And, tragically, Donald Crowhurst, who attempted to fake his way to glory, committed suicide. Exploring vehicles, guns and manufacturing, Brand makes you subtly expand your understanding of maintenance - the need to care. While nine competitors started the race only one finished.

“Make do and mend" (The MacGyver approach): Knox-Johnston, though the youngest of the three at 29, had substantial sailing experience. He had sailed 17,000 miles from India to England on Suhaili - the same boat he ended up using for his race. He had tried to raise money for a better boat and failed and his philosophy became “make do and mend”. That, in a nutshell, is a valid maintenance philosophy. Whatever comes, ingenuity and the can do mentality gets us through. For long the systems that support air traffic control for the National Airspace has run on that regimen. Whether you have to get parts on eBay or rebuild them on your own, the technicians at the FAA have kept these decades-old systems running.

"Simplification as Prevention" (The Zen approach): Moitessier was the most experienced of the three. He dealt with most of the maintenance issues in advance. His boat, Joshua, was an extension of his soul. He didn't just maintain his gear; he edited it. He stripped away everything non-essential, knowing that complexity is the enemy of reliability. True maintenance often starts at the design phase—choosing the simple path, so there is less to break in the first place.

"Performative Maintenance" (The Hubris approach): Crowhurst got into the game with the intention of his race becoming legendary. He was chasing history and acclaim that would solve his financial problems. He was counting on the unique design of his boat, a trimaran, to outrace his competition. His speciality was actually electronics but he was an innovator seemingly with an endless capacity to convince himself that every was going to be wonderful. He was ill-prepared and lax about every aspect of maintenance (he enjoyed electronics, so he worked on his radios even when they didn’t need additional attention). Nature has a cruel way of exposing us when we lie to ourselves.

While Brand explores guns and vehicles, he forces a larger question: Are we maintaining the foundations of our nation with the rigor of a Moitessier, or the delusional optimism of a Crowhurst?"

Which one is your approach, and are you thoughtful about the things that need maintenance - whether it is equipment, communities, or relationships?

A friend posed a question to me about necessary complexity.

Rather than merely quote Einstein (“things should be as simple as can be, no simpler”), I thought I would use one of Brand’s many examples to elaborate a bit further. AK-47 vs. M16 (this AK-47 vs M16 is handy example to substantiate ones argument is a variety of cases). Einstein has it right - even though he was talking about theoretical explanations where parsimony should be the guiding principle, it is sound design guidance.

The history of M16 vs AK-47 has been told many times. In short AK-47 is more powerful, simpler, robust; the M16 lighter, more accurate, longer range, more complicated and needed more maintenance. M16 had a disastrous debut to say the least - “Practically every one of our dead was found with his rifle torn down next to him where he had been trying to fix it” said a Marine in his letter home. The AK-47 could be used and abused and still continued to be the effective killing machine it was then and now.

Both of them are killing machines - essentially serving the same purpose. Functionality is the same, one did aim to be more accurate at longer distances, so design choices do effect complexity but it is clearly important to focus on the primary criterion.

An M16 costs $650, AK-47 $150. I have no expertise in guns - but it appears that the M1 is highly mechanically complex and contains significantly more parts than the simplified AK-47. Most sources suggest that the M1 had more than 100 parts - the platform relies on a high density of small, precision-engineered parts, such as tiny springs and detents, which are essential for function but easily lost during maintenance. The Kalashnikov was designed to minimize the number of critical small parts by integrating them into robust, often non-serviceable sub-assemblies. The U.S. government (for 922r legal compliance purposes) recognizes the AK platform as having only 16 to 17 "countable" major components.

The maintenance burden of a weapon system is a primary factor in its operational effectiveness. The M16 and AK-47 represent two different ends of the maintenance spectrum. The AK-47 was designed for "field-level" simplicity. A standard field strip can be completed in four steps without tools:

Remove the magazine and clear the weapon.
Press the recoil spring guide button and lift the receiver cover.
Remove the recoil spring assembly.
Remove the bolt carrier and bolt assembly.

The AK’s reliability in the absence of cleaning is legendary. Its "loose" tolerances allow sand and carbon to be displaced away from the critical locking surfaces. While long-term neglect will eventually lead to corrosion, the AK can often function for thousands of rounds without oil or carbon removal.

The M16 requires a sophisticated maintenance schedule to ensure reliability. The Technical Manual (TM 9-1005-319-10) specifies that only "issue" type cleaning materials (CLP - Cleaner, Lubricant, and Preservative) should be used. Because the DI system deposits carbon directly into the barrel extension and the bolt carrier, the soldier must use specialized tools like a chamber-cleaning brush to scrub the locking lugs.

The M16’s maintenance complexity is also highlighted by the risk of losing small parts. During a field strip, the firing pin retaining pin (a small cotter pin) and the bolt cam pin must be removed. The manual explicitly warns that if the cam pin is not re-installed during assembly, the weapon will explode when fired. This level of critical-path maintenance requires a higher standard of training and discipline compared to the Kalashnikov system.

There you have it - things should be as simple as can be, no simpler