#124 | This week I unplugged
Following a whim is, in fact, the result of deep passivity blended with a wish to avoid boredom.
“Nothing. Such a useful word, isn’t it? It can mean anything and everything.” – Mary Poppins
“I can do nothing for you but work on myself...you can do nothing for me but work on yourself!” — Ram Dass
This week I spent four days detoxing. My takeaway: Digital detoxing is underrated. The world should do more of it. But why?
It starts with an insight from Erich Fromm. Fromm philosophises about freedom. In his day (he published To Have or To Be in 1976), authoritarianism appeared to be on the way out. Western Europe was basically America's (democratic and free). Cracks were emerging in the USSR. China was not on the geopolitical scene. More of us were getting the vote.
Were we heading for a golden age of individual sovereignty? Despite the success of American-led liberty, Fromm saw individuals were subject to a new authoritarianism—one of Big Government and Big Corporations. Today, we're subject to the same.
We have the illusion of living freely, says Fromm. We vote not for different world views but for one homogenous politician or another. Parties are split not by policy but by Oxford colleagues. We buy one indistinguishable car brand over another. Your phone looks like mine. We submit — no, surrender — to a faceless, nameless, soulless new authority. It gives us what we don’t ask for, all the while making us think we do. This new amorphous authority values the individual and her freedom as much as the Kings and Princes of the nineteenth century.
There is a difference in how we're treated, of course. In the west, we enjoy universal suffrage; the death penalty has broadly gone. I can be left handed and not be a witch. Our healthcare is good. But Fromm's point is that under Henry VIII, or William of Orange, there was no illusion of existing in anything but an authoritarian system. You had a king and were his subject. The vote didn't exist; there was no pretence.
But now, under Sunak or Biden, we have some illusion of control. We elected them, no? We believe our votes matter; that we have options. It's relieving to assume this. By analogy: knowing a pilot sits in the cockpit of your plane is comforting, but when disaster comes, the Boeing is so complicated and has so much momentum that the pilot can do nothing but comfort passengers on the tannoy. Brace, brace.
Importantly, in Fromm's eyes, the aeroplane of our society is at full pace headed in the wrong direction.
In such a context, we develop a what's-the-point apathy. What is the point of voting? They never listen anyway. What's the point of working hard? Nothing ever changes. Why should I save money? The house price-to-income ratio increases incessantly. A what's-the-point attitude means we make short-term decisions. Though we are voting for or buying homogeneity, we assume each choice is us exercising our freedom of will.
What Fromm says, and what is brilliant, is that most of us actually—more often than not—exercise a freedom of "whim". Not, as we assume, our freedom of "will". From his book, To Have or to Be:
What is the difference? A whim is any desire that emerges spontaneously, without any structural connection with the whole personality and its goals.
Fromm defines a whim: "The general criterion of a whim is that it responds to the question "Why not?" and not to the question "Why?"… Following a whim is, in fact, the result of deep passivity blended with a wish to avoid boredom. Will is based on activity, whim on passivity."
In summary, our apathy is probably appropriate given our modern context. Even so, we assume we exercise freedom of will. In fact, because of being passive, we're nonchalantly scrolling our way, whim-like, towards no-goals. We forget our god-given independence. This is bad.
Thinking back, we've all been offered a biscuit, tickets to the rugby, or asked for drinks. Each particular event may not be part of our life plan, and that's okay. But too often, we defer to "why not?" and attend.
We may only note this passive "why not?" internally. To others, we express delight. "Thanks for the biccy!" But there is a betrayal of our "active" selves, a deferral to being a Non-Player Character. We become a leaf in the breeze. Worse, "why not?" extends to our phones. Notifications are unceasing and mindless. There is a hollow feedback loop from social media. Ping—why not check? Why not respond? Each prompt and "why not?" action reinforces the flabby muscle of passivity.
This matters because the more we are passive, the more passive we become. It's like the bottomless thirst of a drunk. It's sipping sea water to hydrate. It's self-creating and reinforcing. We say, "why not?" until we're directionless, stuck between the boat and the harbour wall. (The boat is our forgotten desires; the harbour wall is the desires of others). When the tide of age comes in, there is a squeeze, pop and crack. A shock.
And so it's 2023, and small cabins appear in the countryside to get people to turn off their phones and switch on their minds. LinkedIn fad? No, a life raft for modernity.
It's advertised as three nights, alone. But you're not alone. You go to bed with Herman Hesse and wake up beside Ram Dass. Charles Bukowski leaves cigarette butts in your morning coffee. Visiting these cabins is an exercise in asking "why?" rather than "why not?".
There is no passivity in spending time alone, offline, no matter where you are. You can't say "why not?" to yourself; you are the instigator. You made the choice. You live with it. Failing to attend leaves no trace of FOMO. There is no invite to refuse.
So, why do you go to a cabin? To ask “why?”.
After twelve hours alone, you zone out—too much earl grey. There's a palpable release of energy. A sigh. A trance. A shift from distraction to absorption. Watching the clouds rise from a cup. Waking up to snow on the ground. A fox pads over puddles. Sleep under a big moon. You stoke the fire, and use an irresponsible number of logs. Then, shoes off, walking around in the rain. Grounding. Singing. Humming. Crying? Yes. Each of these is active; you’re alive.
As Fromm notes, you can live spontaneously, not on a whim, so long as your decisions align with your “whole personality and it’s goals”. Conversely, living on a whim is chaotic, unstructured and unfulfilling. The acid test: you feel regret after acting on a whim and feel proud when you’ve been spontaneous.
Life is better lived spontaneously. But we need space in our lives to do so. This means radically changing our relationship with whims. We find the space only when we’ve asked “why?” enough times and got good answers. I want those accidental Sundays, the weeks of no plans, so that we can make plans on the spot with the right people at the right time. But the good questions (the ones that start and end with “why?”) are timid; they are nervous — they creep out for our answering after 48 hours alone in a cabin in the woods.
My week in books
Ham on Rye by Charles Bukowski. Bukowski likes short sentences. It makes his semi-autobiographical novels, and poetry, bump along. This was raw and thrilling. Recommended.
“The problem was you had to keep choosing between one evil or another, and no matter what you chose, they sliced a little more off you, until there was nothing left. At the age of 25 most people were finished. A whole goddamned nation of assholes driving automobiles, eating, having babies, doing everything in the worst way possible, like voting for the presidential candidate who reminded them most of themselves.”
Siddhartha by Herman Hess. The second time I read it, and it blew me away. It’s poetry, almost infinitely deep and so spiritually nourishing that you feel you’ve been on retreat. I underlined on every page. Here’s a quote:
“When someone is seeking,” said Siddartha, “It happens quite easily that he only sees the thing that he is seeking; that he is unable to find anything, unable to absorb anything, because he is only thinking of the thing he is seeking, because he has a goal, because he is obsessed with his goal. Seeking means: to have a goal; but finding means: to be free, to be receptive, to have no goal. You, O worthy one, are perhaps indeed a seeker, for in striving towards your goal, you do not see many things that are under your nose.”
Waking Up by Sam Harris. Attempted but never completed before, but this time it fit different, and was a joy to read. I’ve listened to, and read, a lot of Sam’s work. This book is easy, inspiring, and I highly recommend it.
Bore Hole by Joe Mellen. My friend Robin lent me this. I did not know what to expect. Curve ball! Joe drills a 6mm hole in his head, to feel lighter more spacious and free. He undertook his trepanation in 1970, the book is about his *multiple* attempts. It works, by all accounts. All three accounts actually, so a small sample. I’ll be investigating further.
How to Avoid a Climate Disaster by Bill Gates. I read this half expecting it to inspire me to pivot Yokeru into climate tech. It didn’t, and while I’m more informed, it felt a little ‘doom-mongery’ for me. But I suppose that’s the point: To awaken action. Even so, it’s a great overview of what is the biggest challenge of our generation.
The Science of Meditation by Daniel Goleman and Richard Davidson. I also read this with expectations around lifestyle changes. I didn’t love it, the point (for me) of meditation is not the scientific outcomes, but the more holistic changes in world-view. I want to be a more loving person, not to focus 15% better after 3,000 hours (or whatever the science might tell us). Start with Waking Up if you want to be inspired, which touches on some of the same material.
If only all weeks could be this full of books! What are you reading? I’d love your recommendations.
Live well,
Hector
If you like Bukowski then you'll love John Fante!