Instead of reducing, reusing, recycling, we must resist, rebel and rewilder

Translation of eighth Text from the series by Mark Boyle, author, among others, of the book The wild year — A life without technology in the rhythm of nature (2019) where he recounts his experience of living without industrial technology. In this article, he discusses the vital need to revolt against the industrial system and to rewilder ourselves.

Read more of Mark Boyle's texts here:

• 1) I reject technology because it destroys places and people ;
• 2) Lesson from a prince's life outside the machine world ;
• 3) Life is more beautiful and complex without technology, you never get bored! ;
• 4) Before ecology meant defending nature, not anymore ;
• 5) Living without technology taught me about social life ;
• 6) You don't need modern medicine to be healthy ;
• 7) Living without technology is not romantic ;
• 8) You have to resist, rebel and rewilder ;
• 9) Unplugging from the industrial world allowed me to discover reality.

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My advice after a year without technology: rewild yourself (by Mark Boyle)

Obviously not all of us can go live in the woods. But if we refuse to go into debt, if we resist the temptation of gadgets, and if we reconnect with nature, the world could change.

After being a techno-enthusiast who threw himself at every gimmick, I was unbelievably one of the first to reject technology. My last phone call to family or friends was over a year ago, as was my last connection to antisocial media, my last text message, my last email, my last online browsing. I also did not take photos or listen to electronic music during this time. Living and working in a small house with no electricity, fossil fuels, and running water, the past year has taught me a lot about the natural world, society, the state of our shared culture, and what it means to be human at a time when the boundaries between man and machine are becoming increasingly blurred.

The reasons why I unplugged have not changed much, but they have evolved in their importance. My first motivations were — and still are — ecological. The logic was pretty simple. Even if used minimally, a single smartphone (or toaster, toaster, internet server, solar panel, sex robot) relies on the entire industrial megamachine for its production, marketing and consumption.

The consequences of this ever more intense industrialism are obvious: widespread surveillance thanks to an object that fits in our pockets; the standardization of everything; the colonization of wilderness, indigenous lands, and our mental universe; cultural imperialism; the mass extinction of species; the mass extinction of species; the breakup of communities; the breakup of communities; mass urbanization; the intoxication of everything necessary for a healthy life; resource wars and land grabs; 200 million of climate refugees by 2050; automation of millions of jobs, and the inevitable inequalities, unemployment and the lack of meaning that will result and that will provide fertile ground for demagogues to take power. I could go on, but you've already heard all of this.

Although it is no less important to me today, a person who lives without technology in an isolated place does not have the least impact on the machine economy. There are 7.7 billion active telephones on Earth today — that is, more telephones than people — so one fewer person makes little difference.

What I am most interested in today is keeping the best of the old ways alive. I want to help maintain the connection between our ancient past — its crafts, its perspectives, its stories — and our future, so that when the industrial apparatus collapses under the weight of its own junk, these ancient practices can guide us on the way back. Because, as your computer screen says when you close a program, anything that is not saved will be lost. We would do well to take this into account, otherwise we will lose ourselves.

This lifestyle is often referred to as “simple living.” A closer look reveals that it is far from simple. This life is actually quite complex, made up of a thousand simple little things. By comparison, my former urban life was quite simple, made up of a thousand small, complex things. I found industrial life too simple, and therefore repetitive and boring. With all of its apps, switches, electronic entertainment, power tools, power tools, power tools, websites, websites, devices, comfort, and conveniences, there was almost nothing left for me to do myself except this thing that allowed me to earn money to buy my other needs and wants. For example, as Kirkpatrick Sale wrote in Human Scale, I wanted to “complicate, not simplify”.

However, this lifestyle remains timelessly simple. I discovered that when we extract ourselves from the plasticized, vacuum-packed existence imposed on us by industrial society, what remains could not be simpler. There is no extravagance, no clutter, no unnecessary complications. Nothing to buy, nothing to become. No frills, no bills. Only the raw ingredients of life, to be dealt with immediately and directly, without intermediaries to complicate and confuse things. Simple. But complex.

In the bloody, filthy, and sweaty reality of living in direct relationship to a particular place, I learned that while death is an essential and beautiful part of life, cruelty on an industrial scale is not; and that while veganism is an urban myth — food and industrial products annihilate life en masse, whether or not they contain animal products —, the protection of the natural world and its Breathtaking creatures is more important than ever.

While the term “living without technology” seems self-sacrificing and austere, I've found that the benefits outweigh the initial losses. When you are connected to wifi, you are disconnected from life. It's a choice between the machine world and the living world, and I feel physically and mentally healthier for choosing the latter.

I am regularly told that 7.3 billion humans cannot live like me. I agree on this point. But 7.3 billion humans also cannot continue to live as the mass of people do today. I am not claiming that this way of life is a solution for everyone on the planet, for the simple reason that there is no magic solution to the convergence of crises that our culture is creating. People will not voluntarily return to wilder lives or local economies, but by continuing to “progress” forward it will likely end in techno-dystopia followed by ecological collapse.

I don't believe in one-size-fits-all solutions, but there are important things that most of us can do. In my latest book, Drink Molotov cocktails with Gandhi, I say that the three “rs” of the climate disaster generation — reduce, reuse, recycle — need a serious update. Instead, I suggest resisting, rebelling, rewilding.

Resist debt. Resist professional careers. Resist the dollar race. Resist selling this mass-produced gadget that will distract you from life and the people you'll regret not having spent more time with once on your deathbed.

Revolt. If you don't like the geo-socio-eco-political consequences of fossil fuels, of hydraulic fracturing [to exploit shale oil and gas, NdT], mining, quarrying, seabed exploitation, deforestation, and fraud in general, so oppose the industrial system that requires all of this.

Rebuild. Start playing a role in re-wilding our landscapes. Support innovative projects, such as Cambrian Wildwood and Rewilding Britain, who are doing some of the most important work of our time. If you have land — a small garden, a farm, an estate — leave as much of it as possible in the wild and attract birds, insects, bees, and other wildlife. Stop cutting. Stop controlling. Stop spraying insecticides. Just stop doing. By stopping all of this, you will begin the long and fascinating journey of rewilding. As the wheel of life turns tirelessly on itself, the skills of the past will become the skills of the future.

Life is a constant compromise between comfort and the feeling of being fully alive. My experiences have taught me that the law of diminishing returns may also apply to comfort — and to the technologies that promise it.

I like the simple and complex life. Although it is not a realistic solution for the mass of people today, unless we put a stop to our addiction to more things, more growth, more dehumanizing and distracting technologies — more and more of the same — it may well be a solution for those who will have to deal with in the future.

Mark Boyle